Mendelssohn’s keyboard-writing benefits from a piano with a shallower action and greater transparency than the traditional Steinway and both players relish these qualities, with the full-throated opening of the Second Sonata never sounding overbearing, while the second movement has a winsome charm. They conjure a fine array of colours in the Adagio, too, though Isserlis and Hough are even more nuanced; and despite Tiempo setting up an alluring backdrop, Maisky’s highly perfumed approach to the melody is too much for me. Contrast comes with a thrillingly swift finale from Moser and Beatson. It may be too fast for some, but such is their clarity of textures that I find it entirely winning. Isserlis with Tan and the Watkins brothers are both relatively staid by comparison.

The First Sonata is slightly less successful: it works best in the finale, initially exuberant but with the players perfectly judging the reflective moments just before the close. But in the slow movement Moser’s phrasing is slightly predictable and the melody (from 1'40") could soar more.

The Variations concertantes, on the other hand, are a delight. The main theme is given a nice sweep, the piano’s transparency coming into its own in the first variation, while the two players reveal the limpidity of Var 2 and sound effortlessly virtuoso in the third and fourth. The pizzicato of Var 5 comes through the texture well, with Beatson relishing the nutty colours of the bass register. Others find more inwardness in Var 6, but Var 7 is dramatically charged and their coda begins with a sweet simplicity, making its build to the climax all the more telling. Here Tan and Isserlis sound somewhat more reined-in.

The disc is filled out by Mendelssohn’s Albumblatt and the famous Lied ohne Worte, Op 109, which is arguably more effective on the cello than in its piano original. Both are sensitively wrought but Moser can’t compete with Isserlis when it comes to conjuring a quiet wistfulness. I do like them more than the Watkins’ reading of the Lied, which is too briskly no-nonsense.

There’s more treasure in the form of two pieces by Fanny Mendelssohn. When I reviewed the account of the Fantasia by Nancy Green and R Larry Todd I wondered if it needed to be a little faster. Moser and Beatson prove that this is the case, and the former’s use of vibrato as a colour rather than a habit greatly illuminates the piece’s inherent beauty. The Capriccio, too, comes off far more convincingly, from its unassuming start to the driving tumult of its middle section.