While you could say a lot of Kathryn Stott’s recital at the Wiltshire Music Centre was loud pedal-ish, the range and ebullience of Miss Stott was quite revealing.

She started with a hauntingly delicate Prelude and Fugue in C by Bach which eventually seemed as though she had got the dainty bits out of the way before launching into Grieg, Ravel, Rachmaninov and Shostakovich, all of which needed muscle, gigantic thinking and remarkable prowess.

Dwelling on that Bach for a moment: it was finely woven, intrinsically textured and, to me, so nostalgic. It sits almost permanently on my piano, played whenever a moment of escapism is needed, taught to my children and others; and there it was, played with such love. Thank you.

Grieg’s Holberg Suite: So energetic, full of panache and vigour, until the fourth movement, the Air, which turned the night into a magical richness of evocation. Miss Stott’s emphasis of the undercurrent melody in minor keys was strikingly poignant and emphatically evinced.

Corelli’s theme in Rachmaninov’s variations was frequently brought to the fore in decisive manner with enthusiastic, almost excitable, flourishes. Not anything for the faint hearted, but Miss Stott’s obvious enjoyment was captivating and infectious.

The initial frothiness of Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin proved an incredible aperitif for Prelude and Fugue No 24 in D Minor by Shostakovich. Full of Russian fire and passion, and, even now, 60 or 70 years since its conception, it was one of those performances that it was a joy to hear.