Listening to the extended orchestral opening that launches this disc, darkness shot through with piercing piccolo, you might be hard-pressed to guess genre, let alone composer. Because this is Moszkowski’s lost piano concerto, rediscovered as recently as 2008, whose journey from Paris’s Bibliothèque Nationale to the recording studio is recounted in Jeremy Nicholas’s lively and perspicacious notes. It’s apt that, a quarter of a century after Moszkowski’s E major Concerto launched Hyperion’s groundbreaking Romantic Piano Concerto series, this B minor work should feature on Vol 68, played by the pianist and conductor who reintroduced it to the world in 2014, Ludmil Angelov and Vladimir Kiradjiev.

And it’s quite a piece, lasting not far short of an hour. Moszkowski wrote it to launch his own career as a pianist and it’s given an unstintingly engaged and engaging performance by pianist, conductor and the BBC Scottish SO, who have been such stalwarts throughout this series. That doom-laden introduction proves to be deceptive, for once the piano enters much of the music takes on a sunnier bent. Angelov’s experience of Chopin serves him well, helping him make the most of writing that abounds in a sense of rhapsody and silvery filigree. Add to that an exuberant virtuosity and a penchant for spinning a good tune, and you have a very worthwhile addition to the series. And the orchestra is no mere accompanist here but a cheerful comrade-in-arms, Moszkowski delighting particularly in writing for woodwind.

The rolling lyricism of the Adagio is well brought out by Angelov (and the first clarinet), while the vivacious Scherzo, heralded by characterful pizzicato strings, unfolds as a deliciously playful conversation between soloist and orchestra. It’s the finale in which the weight of the concerto lies – at least in terms of length – and it demands from the soloist tremendous stamina, with little downtime and no fewer than two cadenzas. As in the first movement, the minor-key introduction gives little hint of the ebullience to come, by turns energised and graceful. It says much for the musicians here that it seems not a bar too long, ending in a blazingly affirmative burst of B major.

The Russian Rhapsody by Adolf Schulz-Evler, two years Moszkowski’s senior, is also making its recording debut. Based on a sequence of Russian-style melodies (the first a sombre one, faintly reminiscent of something a Russian male-voice choir might sing), it fairly swiftly becomes a blatant showpiece for piano, which at one point is surely imitating a balalaika. Subtle it ain’t, but again the performance from all concerned is compelling. However, from a pianophile point of view, it’s the Moszkowski that’s the bigger selling point here.