Few musicians have had the inclination, opportunity and wherewithal to record as frequently as Stephen Hough. Now 59, he has well over 50 recordings to his credit, ranging from his own most recent compositions back to Mozart, encompassing solo releases, instrumental and vocal chamber music and works with orchestra. Given the sheer quantity of those recordings, their variety is all the more remarkable. Alongside canonic repertory, Hough’s appetite for forgotten or neglected works is voracious. Everywhere Hough’s keen intelligence and broad culture are in evidence.

His latest recording is a return to Schumann. Apart from his ‘In the Night’ album (6/14), which included the eponymous number from the Fantasiestücke and Carnaval, Hough has scarcely ventured into the world of Schumann since 1989, when he first recorded the Fantasie along with Davidsbündlertänze and excerpts from the Album for the Young (11/89).

The gently rippling surfaces that open the Arabeske move along briskly, with more expressive gestures reserved for the two contrasting sections and the coda. It’s a strategy that contributes to the psychological interest of the piece, while fully conforming to Schumann’s score.

Kreisleriana, it could be argued, is far and away the most challenging of the cycles. While Hough’s approach is supremely lyrical, he is especially adept at capturing the sudden, unsettling shifts of tone and mercurial mood swings with which Schumann evokes ETA Hoffmann’s fictional character, Johannes Kreisler. This vivid portrayal of madness could only be achieved by the utmost restraint and poise. Poetic moments are heightened by tasteful asynchronicity of the hands and Schumann’s polyphony is lovingly delineated.

Embarking on the great C major Fantasie, we are transported to a realm of almost ideal beauty. Hough’s various rubato strategies seem infinitely calibrated, each aptly suited to a specific emotional circumstance, while the attention to voice leading so prevalent in Kreisleriana is here redoubled to marvellous effect. Professionals will note, no doubt with envy, the ostensible ease with which Hough pounces on the perilous leaps at the end of the second movement. Describing this performance as more cerebral than sensuous, more Apollonian than Dionysian, is no complaint. It is part of what makes every bar of this masterpiece fully conscious, each detail apparent yet integrated within Schumann’s mighty edifice.