At first glance this would seem to be a relatively routine affair: three barnstorming repertoire staples, only two of them obviously related to the ‘Dies irae’ title. But on closer inspection, and especially on listening, there is plenty of special interest to report.

For one thing, the ‘Dies irae’-less Spanish Rhapsody comes with Mikhail Petukhov’s addition of string orchestra accompaniment; and accompaniment is an understatement. Petukhov has added all sorts of counterpoints and repliques: some discreet, some less so. Pedal points and background resonances are judiciously, sometimes wittily, always musically applied: not as flamboyantly as in, say, Shchedrin’s Carmen Suite, but a little in that direction. The result is at least as creative as the Busoni version of the Rhapsody for piano with full orchestra. Petukhov was Dmitry Masleev’s main teacher, and this razor-sharp performance is a fitting tribute to him.

Liszt’s Totentanz is by turns hair-raising and glitteringly seductive, just as it should be. If I say that it comes across as great fun, that is no disrespect either to the piece or to its performance. After all, it’s hardly Liszt’s fault that what he may have intended in all seriousness now sounds faintly preposterous, thanks to innumerable cartoon scores aping its antics.

The piano is balanced quite forward. That works especially well in the Paganini Rhapsody, because it relieves Masleev of the need to compete, enabling him instead to impart optimum clarity to passagework that sometimes gets covered in pedal. The big tune of Var 18 has a refreshing directness, and Masleev has some imaginative thoughts on how to keep that freshness alive as the emotional waves gather. Overall, his approach may strike some as a degree cooler and more clinical than usual. But the combination of clarity and sensitive interplay with the orchestra makes it anything but routine.

Which brings me to the most remarkable feature: that Masleev directs the excellent Svetlanov Symphony Orchestra (formerly the USSR State SO) from the piano. He didn’t plan it that way; he was standing in at short notice for an indisposed conductor. More than just saving the day, and more than winning plaudits for their daring, all concerned have achieved a chamber-like interplay that gives the album special distinction.

What the Marcello/Bach – a Glenn Gould favourite – has to do with ‘Dies irae’ is anyone’s guess. But delivered respectfully and straightforwardly as here, it’s a pleasing way to round off an exceptionally interesting issue.