If anyone needs a sharp reminder of Horowitz’s greatness in certain repertoire, then this is it. Who else could – or would – show such a teasing and phenomenal mastery of tone in his tantalisingly brief selection of Debussy Etudes, biting and acerbic when not suave and luxuriant, their fantasy unfolded with all the cunning and artifice at his command. His ‘Serenade for a Doll,’ as on so many other occasions, is more speculative than coquettish, remembering, like Debussy himself, a long-vanished world of childhood innocence.

And who but Horowitz could make Kabalevsky sound so indelibly Russian rather than frivolous? He casts an aura of rare distinction over the eight Preludes he chooses from Op 38, conjuring a memory of Mussorgsky’s ‘Gnomus’ (Pictures at an Exhibition) in No 10 and whirling us through the moto perpetuo of No 3 with enviable aplomb. Even he has his work cut out focusing his audience’s attention on the Second Sonata (they grow restive and bronchial during arid stretches where the ghost of Prokofiev remains obstinately in attendance) but his lavishness, colour and hyper-virtuosity make the finale irresistible, and his long-favoured Moszkowski encores are tossed off with a nonchalance and demonism that only he could command.

His mischievous charm and ravishing cantabile in Prokofiev’s ‘Gavotte’ and ‘Valse lente’ from Cinderella close a recital of live New York performances dating from 1947-51 when Horowitz was at the height of his powers, long before he became a parody of his former glory. Such playing has you by the throat, roaring and whispering its audacity through every page. This reissue of performances which have entered and left the catalogue like so many Cheshire cats brilliantly captures Horowitz’s instrument with its resonating bass and splintering treble. There are no accompanying notes and the Moszkowski Etudes are placed back to front, yet these hardly seem considerations when such necromancy is on offer; just listen and be amazed by this ultimate Merlin of the keyboard.