The misnamed Jeunehomme Concerto (we now know that Mozart wrote it for a Mlle Jenamy) was one of the outstanding performances in Mitsuko Uchida’s Philips cycle with the English Chamber Orchestra and Jeffrey Tate. In this new live recording as soloist-director, Uchida’s interpretation is essentially unchanged, albeit subtly varied in countless details. What remain are her impeccable pianistic finish, her deeply considered phrasing and her quicksilver response to mood and harmonic flux.

In the elegiac C minor Andantino Uchida moulds the quasi-operatic lines with the personal inflections of a singer. The ever-refined Cleveland Orchestra, first and second violins properly divided left and right, match Uchida in grave eloquence. I like, too, her flowing tempo for the finale’s Minuet interlude, which can too easily tempt players into an excess of rococo languor. But while differences are often minimal, I do miss the extra impish exuberance that Uchida brought to the opening Allegro and Rondo in her studio recording with Tate, which paradoxically sounds more spontaneous than this beautifully proportioned but slightly more sober reading.

Whereas some pianists, notably Alfred Brendel (Philips), play up the opera buffa associations of K467’s first movement, Uchida, as in her earlier recording, takes a spacious approach, in keeping with the maestoso marking that found its way into 19th-century editions. Again there is delicacy and grace in abundance, and an ideal clarity in the many contrapuntal exchanges, abetted by the superlative Cleveland woodwind. At times, though, I wished Uchida had let herself go more: say, in the passionate sequences in the development, where for all her textural lucidity she seems over-concerned with minutiae, reluctant to sweep the music inexorably forwards. That said, the concerto’s famous Andante sings as limpidly as you could wish, while the final delights with its mingled grace and ebullience and collusion between piano and comically self-important woodwind. Uchida provides her own cadenzas for K467 (Mozart’s have not survived), inventive – and becoming rather less Mozartian as it proceeds – in the first movement, brief and witty in the finale. The recording, from Cleveland’s Severance Hall, is first-rate: an ample bloom to the sound, a true solo-orchestral balance and a digitally silenced audience. While these performances don’t necessarily eclipse her earlier ones, Uchida remains one of the most thoughtful and poetic of Mozartians, with a fastidious control of sound second to none.