As we reach Vol 8 of Bavouzet’s compelling series, we focus on the last three years of Mozart’s life (though there are more volumes to come) – and the strikingly different worlds of the relatively neglected Coronation Concerto, K537, and his serene final piano concerto, K595.

They’re prefaced by three opera overtures, opening with a taut, springy Così in which Gábor Takács-Nagy still finds time to embrace its more soulful moments. Then the very different world of Die Zauberflöte, its heightened initial solemnity giving way to a bustling energy, with a real zest to the fortissimo climaxes; finally La clemenza, a highlight here, with Mozart’s constant mood shifts caught well and some virtuoso wind-playing.

Bavouzet talks in the notes about his relatively recent discovery of the joys of K537, admitting that ‘for a long time I bore only a modest interest … but [it] has become transformed into an object of real passion’, and there’s no doubting the zest in his performance. The extraordinarily grand orchestral tutti – all two and a half minutes of it – is given with due trumpet-and-timps pomp by Takács-Nagy. Yet somehow, when the piano makes its entry there’s a slightly disjointed sense to it, a little too playful perhaps. Perahia, responding to an equally imposing opening from the English Chamber Orchestra, has more of the gravitas I hanker after. That said, there’s no lack of drama in the new version, particularly as it turns to the minor for the start of the development (at 7'03"), and Bavouzet’s choice of Paul Badura-Skoda’s cadenza is pitch-perfect.

Bigger issues stalk the Larghetto, which just sounds rushed here; how much more song Perahia weaves into it at a steadier pace. The finale has a pent-up energy, with Bavouzet dispatching the solo part with ease. But again, it can possess more majesty, as witness Perahia and the ECO, still a top contender several decades on.

Turning to K595, there’s a tremendous sense of reactivity between Bavouzet and his fellow musicians. Examples abound in the opening movement, where he finds a greater sense of playfulness than Pires and Abbado; to my ears it seems slightly overstated, but others will find it refreshing. In the middle movement – as in K537 – I hankered after a more serene reading. Richard Goode and the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra are superb here, finding a rare depth, and leaving lines barer of ornamentation than Bavouzet. The finale, though, shows the sheer camaraderie between these players, and Mozart’s own cadenza sounds wonderfully fresh in Bavouzet’s hands.