Two decades ago Cédric Tiberghien recorded a disc of Beethoven variations (4/03) that included the three major sets here (Opp 34, 35 and 76). It’s been long discontinued but he’s now returned to that repertoire, broadening his scope in two ways. First, the new release launches a complete cycle of all the Beethoven piano variations. Second, it aims to guide listeners on ‘a journey through the world of the variation’, interleaving Beethoven’s sets with others that will eventually cover territory from Sweelinck to Kurtág.

Actually, if you listen in Tiberghien’s recommended order, you find yourself on two different kinds of journey. The first disc, consisting of the Mozart sonata and the three major Beethoven sets, is structured to provide historical illumination: Mozart’s first movement casts light on Beethoven’s variation technique; the finale casts light on his use of ‘Turkish’ gestures in Op 76. The second disc, consisting largely of less significant music, dispenses with historical insight in favour of abstract symmetry: a palindrome moving from Schumann to Beethoven to Webern (the only masterpiece in the group) and then back again.

If you’re hoping to refresh familiar music (and what performer wouldn’t want to?), placing it in new contexts is an excellent route. In this case, though, neither journey fully succeeds. The appearance of the Mozart towards the end of a programme otherwise devoted to Beethoven seems haphazard, and nudges us off balance. The arrival of the Webern at the core of the second disc seems more arbitrary still, since it has virtually nothing in common with the rest of the repertoire – sort of like finding a dollop of foie gras in the middle of your trifle. Nor would I choose these two second-rank Schumann sets, both left unfinished, as stops on a grand tour of the world of the variation.

Fortunately, another route to refreshing the repertoire is to provide an absorbing interpretative point of view. That’s certainly what happens here: Tiberghien offers poetic and rhythmically pliant readings with the melding of nuance and naturalness that marks his best work. On the one hand, these performances bring out the music’s subtler details in a way that keeps you enthralled – details of dynamics (listen to the finely judged modifications in the theme of Beethoven’s Op 34), of touch (listen to his fabulous leggiermente in the fourth variation of Op 76), of colour. On the other hand, for all their richness of incident, for all their rubato, the results seem neither fussy nor cluttered – Tiberghien’s tact prevents interest in the moment from interfering with the music’s larger design. Tact shows up, too, in his handling of the music’s technical challenges. Nothing here throws him (listen to his handling of the breathless syncopations of the Passionato étude A6 of the Beethoven Variations), nothing blurs; but there’s not a bar in which he seems to be showing off.

True, when you add his general patience and tonal richness to the mix – not to mention his preference for slow gradations rather than bold contrasts – some listeners might wonder if the playing isn’t too equable for their taste. Certainly, held up against the young Glenn Gould’s brittle but exhilarating 1952 concert version of the Eroica Variations (CBC, 7/94), Tiberghien’s, with its softer articulation and its smoother phrasing, is relatively well mannered. Similarly, next to Robert Levin’s vivacious and highly ornamented version of the Mozart (ECM, 11/22), Tiberghien’s might seem plain-spoken. (Then again, so would virtually everyone else’s.) But judicious as they are, it would be unfair to call Tiberghien’s performances unassuming. He certainly delights in the whimsy of the third variation of Beethoven’s WoO75 (listen to how deftly he whispers the ending), just as he revels in the shudders of intensity that cloud the Minuet in the Mozart. As for Schumann’s so-called Ghost Variations: it’s his last piano piece, sketched just before he was institutionalised, and it’s based on a theme he believed was dictated by forces from the Beyond. It’s a threadbare work; but in Tiberghien’s hands, even more than in Igor Levit’s (Sony, 11/18), it’s heartbreaking.

No, ‘unassuming’ is not quite the word. ‘Finely wrought’ would be more accurate – the kind of playing that holds up well on long-term listening. The clear sound of the recording and the informative notes by Jean-Paul Montagnier are welcome bonuses.