To use Stephen Hough’s own words from his previous Schubert recording for Hyperion (6/99), the ‘communion of hearts’ between the composer and the performer is the supreme virtue. And as before, this new disc materialises it. Once again he pairs a late sonata with an earlier one, throwing in one of Schubert’s many sonata torsos along the way. The incomplete work here is a fragment of a projected Sonata in E minor, D769a, lasting no more than a minute, but performed with the same conviction and drama as if it were a full-length sonata (and resisting any temptation to round the music off).

The unresolved tension of this fragment finds its serene resolution in the luminous opening of the A major Sonata, D664, as if opening the window on to a springtime vista. Hough then delicately probes the oscillations between dream and consciousness, laughter and tears, nostalgia and melancholy, with special poignancy in the second movement. Only with Richter have I been as convinced while listening that there was no other way of playing Schubert; and yet the two artists are so utterly different in temperament.

Hough’s uncannily subtle timing, his sensitivity to texture and his mesmerising voice-leading are means to greater ends. It is his noble humility in the face of greatness and beauty that makes these among the most touching Schubert performances I have ever experienced. And experiences is what they are. Where many pianists seem fully aware of the destination from the outset, Hough invites us to embark with him on a magical mystery tour. In the expansive opening movement of the G major Sonata, D894, the reiterations of the opening idea continually acquire new colours and meanings, unfolding naturally until the sublime ultimate resignation. Or take the ‘travelling’ music of the finale, which exquisitely depicts the protagonist/passenger deviating into little alleyways, some filled with sun and hope, others with bleakness and foreboding.

With Hough, dramatic import never comes at the expense of weighing down and plodding. Like Schubert himself, his protagonist is a young man. How appropriate is the cover image, Head of a Youth, Jean-Baptiste Vermay by Gottlieb Schick: a master depicted in his early years, yet already overpowered by fate. Emotional excess and sentimentality are beside the point. In the tender, lamenting episode of the first movement of the G major, for instance, Uchida’s impassioned intensity – so wonderful in so many ways – feels over-indulgent by comparison.

Hough’s choice of a Bechstein instead of his usual Yamaha affords additional warmth and depth of sound. This time Misha Donat’s informative notes are not, as with Hough’s recent Brahms, crowned by the pianist’s own inspiring words. For those, head to Hough’s website and read his enlightening thoughts for his previous Schubert album. Both recordings are the epitome of ‘Schubert’s miraculous ability to bare his soul without a trace of narcissism’.