This recital is all about contrasts: at its centre, that most unpianistic of pieces – the Wanderer Fantasy – bookended by the outwardly untroubled A major Sonata, D664, and the highly ambiguous A minor, D845. Throughout there’s the sense that Ohlsson believes this music can speak for itself. True, some find more to smile about in the opening of D664, though Ohlsson’s understatedness in the Andante gives it a certain poise. The finale is spirited but in some passages the left hand seems too assertive, though this effect may be exacerbated by Dux’s recording. Turn to Lupu, however, and you find something faster and less po-faced, the climaxes in his hands acquiring a playful quality.

The Wanderer rather suits Ohlsson’s no-nonsense approach and he surmounts the work’s more intransigent corners with ease. But listen to Lewis in the opening ‘movement’ and you find not only a greater sense of direction but also more in the way of light and shadow. The Adagio has an apt gravitas in Ohlsson’s hands but, while he brings out the Wanderer’s relentless, somewhat obsessive side in the finale, I find myself more drawn to the oh-so-subtly inflected Lewis.

By this point, it’s no surprise to find Ohlsson’s D845 favours the vehement over the phantasmagorical. Lupu and Goode arguably find more of a balance between these two elements in the opening Moderato. But Pires has now entered the fray in this sonata and her way with the variation-form second movement is miraculous in its imagination and seeming effortlessness. Lupu, too, is a marvel here. And, in the finale, Pires, Lupu and Lewis all find an extraordinary variety of touch, compared to which Ohlsson sounds altogether more trenchant, not least in the chordal outbursts.