In a sense the images on the front and back of the disc say it all: this is Mozart of extraordinary intensity, as you might expect from Dame Mitsuko. The latest instalment, in which she directs The Cleveland Orchestra from the keyboard, pairs two delectable concertos, if ones less compulsively recorded than the miraculous sequence of 1785 86.

The guileless beginning of the B flat Concerto, K456, gives little hint of the extraordinary depths that are to be explored, most notably in the searing G minor variation-form slow movement. This is predictably rapt in Uchida’s hands: if her earlier version with the ECO and Tate was reactive, this is still more so, the whispered asides now even more daringly withdrawn. What’s striking is that The Cleveland – for all the warmth of the strings – sounds like a smaller band than the ECO, so intimate is the experience.

Mozart has been a constant throughout Uchida’s career but increasingly palpable is an otherworldly quality to her playing, an aspect that radiates out to her fellow players and to us, the audience. Her reading as a whole in this movement is more profoundly disturbed than most (if it’s too much, Richard Goode offers a wonderfully pliant and plangent alternative). Her finale – steadier than many – suggests that all is not as carefree as may at first seem; and the balance as a whole is less wind-focused than, for example, Goode’s Orpheus or Andsnes’s period-leaning, vibrato-light Norwegian Chamber Orchestra.

In the Allegretto central movement of the F major, too, Uchida is very compelling, imbuing the piano’s glorious lines with a haze of melancholy. Again the wind are less prominent than tends to be the norm nowadays, which occasionally seems a pity when the playing is as outstanding as it is here. The finale is ravishingly brought off, the repartee between piano and orchestra in the final bars delightful in its sense of playful affirmation.