How inspiring that something so enriching should have come out of lockdown, for the three concertos and the Masonic Funeral Music were all recorded in November by a socially distanced Mahler CO, with the other works set down just prior to lockdown in February last year. Socially distanced they may have been but the camaraderie that was so evident in their groundbreaking Beethoven cycle with Leif Ove Andsnes is, if anything, even more apparent here. The year 1785 was, even by Mozart’s standards, an annus mirabilis, as this double album abundantly demonstrates. But what we also gain from hearing these pieces in this context is an appreciation of the interconnections between them, and that’s certainly brought alive in every performance.

Among the concertos, Andsnes has previously recorded only K466, back in 2007, and this new account is by some way bolder, emphasising the way in which the first movement prefigures Beethoven, while the Norwegian CO, though good, are outclassed in characterisation by the Mahler orchestra. Andsnes’s account of Beethoven’s cadenza in the first movement is also more dramatically etched than in the earlier reading. If he impressed in conveying the limpid beauty of the Romanze in 2007, this one is even more distilled, ornamentation always subtly drawn, and there’s a new sense of ferocity as the music turns to the minor. The finale’s fieriness has, too, a steelier edge than in his previous reading, and it’s not the mad dash that some pianists choose. He again plays the Hummel cadenza, and the moment where bassoon and oboe enter at its close (6'46") is full of cheeky character, while emphatic brass and timpani underline the journey from darkness to light.

Their way with the C major Concerto, K467, which was composed a month after the D minor, is particularly effective, the outer movements no longer overshadowed by the fame of the Andante, with the orchestra bringing to the opening of the Allegro maestoso the sense of an overture to an opera buffa, trumpets, horns and timpani emphasising its bonhomie. The moment before the piano’s first entry (2'15") is just one example of the calibre of the music-making, in which oboe, then bassoon followed by flute add just the right degree of rubato, the piano then picking up the sense of delight. The instances of chamber-musical finesse are everywhere, Leif Ove Andsnes always sounding like one of the gang. His choice of Géza Anda’s cadenza is fitting, its cheeky little harmonic excursions playful but always apt.

There’s no lack of longing and sadness in the slow movement but it’s restrained, and the individual colours of the wind are wonderfully subtle. I’ve got a soft spot for Pires and Abbado in this concerto; they have a more flexible approach to this movement but both versions are equally winning. In the joyously spirited finale Pires and Abbado are more impetuous than Andsnes and co but there’s great imagination each time the main theme reappears, and the pianist’s pristine closing runs end the work in a blaze of light.

The E flat Concerto, K482, is also new to Andsnes’s discography and is the first of Mozart’s piano concertos to use clarinets, a timbre that is very much apparent thanks to the finesse of the Mahler CO. Again there’s an ease of playing from all concerned: it all sounds completely inevitable, right down to the cadenza by John Fraser, Andsnes’s producer, which is grand but in keeping with what has gone before. The musicians convey the profound sense of tragedy in the C minor variation-form slow movement without overdoing it – and the opening, with the strings using minimal vibrato, adds a searing rawness to the proceedings. As the mood switches again for the lolloping finale, the Mahler CO bring a delightful sense of release and there are some notably agile bassoon and flute contributions. As the tempo slows for the Andantino interlude the horn and clarinet-rich texture is generously coloured. Géza Anda’s brief but ebullient cadenza is a fine choice and the musicians clearly revel in the spirited optimism of the closing bars.

For the First Piano Quartet, Andsnes is joined by three string principals and their leanness of tone (and lack of vibrato) emphasises the gritty vigour of the opening movement, certainly more so than the Lewis/Leopold Trio recording, which has long been a benchmark of mine. The solo piano introduction in the Andante is a degree more beautifully sung by Lewis but the interplay between Andsnes and the strings is also very compelling, as is their finale, with all four enjoying its concerto-like qualities and egging one another on in delightful fashion.

Andsnes takes a rest in the Masonic Funeral Music, and how potently this comes across, with the pungently coloured winds contrasting very effectively with the restrained strings.

The remaining work finds Andsnes alone at the keyboard for the C minor Fantasy, K475. Again, you sense that he has learnt much from his Beethoven journey and he brings a real grandeur of conception to the opening section, relishing the semitonally falling octaves in the bass line. This can, in the wrong hands, sound somewhat sectional but his conception of the whole is mesmerising, with the switch to D major (2'57") sounding inevitable, while he launches into the Allegro section with an apt fervour, making the most of the contrast between this and the easeful Andantino. As we return to the initial material, the craggy grandeur is ever present, the final upward C minor scale dramatically Beethovenian. It sets the seal on a remarkable achievement by all concerned.