Bach’s keyboard concertos were derived, in all cases, from previous contexts – whether original cantata sinfonias, oboe or violin concertos – but, as so often from the 1730s onwards, Bach liked to compile sets for posterity; six of the seven works (the G minor, BWV1058, was probably an earlier revision) are consciously assembled in the composer’s 1738 autograph as a statement of growing interest in the keyboard as concerto protagonist.

All these works for solo ‘clavier’ and orchestra have received multiple readings on the piano over the years, of which Ramin Bahrami’s recent charismatic excursions with the Gewandhaus and Chailly (Decca, 11/11) create a probing alternative to clunky conventionality or dainty ‘period’ manners. Chailly speaks of a ‘third way’ of stylistic synthesis but Konstantin Lifschitz aims here to take us on to a further level of inquisitiveness.

He often succeeds, since his Bach-playing is infused with a truly recognisable and fascinating personality and, at best, a remarkable sustainability of line. Listen to how, in the last movement of the D minor, BWV1052, Lifschitz harnesses himself to Bach’s supreme voice-leading to guide his keen perception of dynamic possibility, texture and touch and, most of all, melodic intensity. Much the same musicality applies to fine performances of the F minor (BWV1056) and G minor concertos.

The E major, BWV1053, is witty, perhaps a little too gripped in places but delightfully lithe, as is the D major, BWV1054 (Bach’s fine E major Violin Concerto reworking). Indeed, all the major-key pieces dance with clarity and purpose without quite summoning a rich sense of joy: the A major, BWV1055 – that perfect little gem of intimacy and generosity – irradiates a general sentiment of well-being but not the familial and devotional warmth which is the sine qua non of its last movement. Lifschitz’s top-class pedigree is plain for all to hear in the D major and his glassy touch is perhaps most beautifully realised in the F minor.

Some may find the recorded sound unfashionably recessed but the balance and discreet dialogue between the piano and the headily light Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra allow mainly for eloquence and congeniality, except, alas, in those movements where an incessantly clipped, almost motoric string articulation can become wearing, as it does in the F major (Fourth Brandenburg reborn). And why do the flutes play every note the same length?

Lifschitz is an unusually cultivated artist whose best-judged work here reflects Bach-playing of the highest order. A little less foursquare froideur from the band in some of the outer movements, in which he becomes vicariously complicit, and this would be rather more than a qualified success.