Even more than some years’ instalments, Lugano 2014 is a celebration not just of the inimitable Argentinian but also of the most obscure alleyways of classical music. As ever, Argerich surrounds herself with personalities nearly as outsize as her own. We begin with Mozart, and the D minor Concerto that she performed so phenomenally at the 2013 Lucerne Festival with Abbado. How do they compare? The approach is largely similar as far as the soloist is concerned but the Orchestra della Svizzera Italiana is a more traditional ensemble than Orchestra Mozart, with plusher-sounding wind that can’t quite compare with Abbado’s in terms of intensity.

The first disc travels from dark to light, the Mozart followed by Beethoven’s (largely) uproarious Variations on ‘Bei Männern’ from The Magic Flute, with Maisky and Argerich egging each other on; they play with great spirit, without Maisky overdoing the vibrato as he sometimes can. From there to Milhaud’s arrangement for piano quintet of his own La création du monde. To my ears, this isn’t a patch on the orchestral version, and it’s not the easiest of pieces to bring off – there are more than a few textural challenges – and on occasion I found first violinist Dora Schwarzberg’s vibrato-rich tone somewhat overbearing. But the Fugue is delivered with due welly, even if the scherzo is slightly raw in places. Similarly, Busoni’s arrangement of Mendelssohn’s First Symphony, which opens disc 2, sounds a bit relentless in its eight-hands, two-pianos garb. The accentuation can border on the overenthusiastic on occasion; and though it’s generally extremely well co-ordinated, there is the odd patch of hurrying. The finale has plenty of con fuoco but again I’d question whether this is a better medium than Mendelssohn’s original.

Poulenc fares particularly well on this set, Lugano regular Gautier Capuçon joined by Francesco Piemontesi for a rendition of the Cello Sonata that balances warmth and wit, anguish and seriousness, with the more poignant elements (particularly the slow movement) potently realised thanks to Capuçon’s songful tone. The brief four-hand Piano Sonata, too, played by Argerich and Dagmar Clottu, offers an ebullient reminder of Poulenc’s love for Stravinsky. Frank Bridge’s wartime Cello Sonata (this time Capuçon with Gabriela Montero) is particularly telling in its more nostalgic moments, with the cellist tending to soften its more modernist edges in the finale. The recording here, too, seems particularly close, catching every breath.

We turn to Russia for the remaining works. Borodin’s Piano Quintet is still not that well known, and to be honest it’s not difficult to work out why, despite a wholehearted performance. The brief first movement in particular seems to score more highly on gesture than on memorability. The best is found in the rambunctious Scherzo – where the rhythmic timing is pinpoint – which encloses an altogether gentler Trio.

The Scriabin Fantasy, however, is a more intriguing rarity, fervently played by Alexander Mogilevsky and Daniel Rivera. And to end, Weinberg’s Fifth Violin Sonata, a work Gidon Kremer has consistently championed. The piece exudes such intensity that you don’t need to know that it was written just after his release from Lubyanka prison in 1953. It unfolds from the opening recitative-like writing, via the energy and ire of the second movement (brilliantly caught by Kremer and Argerich, the latter letting rip in the final stomping piano chords) and an increasingly unfettered scherzo, to a finale that begins edgily and proceeds to work through the moods of the previous movements, before ending in a mood of serenity. It’s a riveting performance, and one of the highlights of a compelling box.