These Beethoven concertos have waited a while to emerge, having been recorded in 2017 (No 3) and 2018 (No 4). Listening to them, two things are immediately striking: what fine fettle Elisabeth Leonskaja is in, pianistically speaking, and the warmth of her relationship with Tugan Sokhiev and his Toulouse musicians.

They place No 4 first, and it’s a quietly persuasive reading, Leonskaja beautifully poised in her opening chords, the Allegro moderato unfolding at an unhurried pace. The piano is not unduly spotlit, allowing for the most natural of conversations between soloist and orchestra; and in the many hushed passages, Sokhiev proves a subtle accompanist. Throughout the concerto there’s a sense of Leonskaja having this music in her bones, and Beethoven’s narrative unfolds with complete inevitability. Occasionally, I could have done with more tension, such as in the lead-up to the first-movement cadenza. The Andante con moto initially sounds a tad too slow, though this has less to do with the tempo per se and more to do with the phrasing – Kovacevich and Davis are slower but the solo lines are peerlessly sustained. What is particularly impressive in this new account, though, is the emotional curve of the movement, the strings’ ire gradually fading to allow the piano to sing uninterrupted, the close with the subdued strings beautifully modulated. But they can’t quite match Paul Lewis, with the much-missed Jiří Bělohlávek, who reveal real depths here, contrasting it deliciously with the puckish finale. Leonskaja is a little more circumspect in her reading of the Vivace, though the moments where the music pauses to gaze in wonder prompt from her and the orchestral musicians some fine playing.

No 3 leaves me with more reservations, however. Sokhiev sets up a dramatic orchestral tutti and Leonskaja’s C minor scalic entry is aptly resolute. But from here on in, the movement’s seething fury tends to be underplayed, with the pianist instead offering a more beseeching view of the music. Bělohlávek and Lewis are altogether more emotionally tense here, while Andsnes and his chamber orchestra fearlessly drive the music forwards, emphasising Beethoven’s mercurial shifts of mood. I’d hoped that the slow movement would provide an opportunity for Leonskaja to display her manifold lyrical gifts, but the solo opening sounds a little unsure of itself. By the time she’s conversing with the orchestra things take off, but she’s no competition for Lewis at his haloed best here. The finale comes off better, with the piano-writing dispatched with energy and a real glint in the eye, proving that you don’t have to go at the same lick as Andsnes to be effective (though I maintain a very soft spot for the characterful timpani and brass in his account). Sokhiev ensures there’s plenty of contrast between the rondo theme and the shifting moods of the episodes, and the Presto C major coda is aptly triumphant.