Imagine hearing the exact phrasing that made Rachmaninov’s playing so magical. Or thrilling to the timbre of a teenage Menuhin playing Elgar’s violin concerto under the baton of the great composer himself. It would seem impossible today: the great Russian composer has been dead for 63 years, and no other pianist could precisely imitate his mannerisms, expression and vibrant emotion. But a computer could. And soon, thanks to advanced digital technology, the great performances of the virtuosi, classical and jazz, will again fill the concert halls as the piano, perfectly programmed, plays by itself, alone on an empty stage.

The ghostly presence of Rubenstein, Horowitz or Cortot may look down, wincing occasionally as every hesitation, sloppy phrasing or fraction too long on the pedal is reproduced. The audience may feel bemused with nothing to watch, and the critics, tested by the equivalent of a blind tasting, may find it hard to match their expansive clichés to the autonomous movement on the keyboard. But if engineers can reproduce the original luminosity of recordings that now sound more like a cacophony of hisses, Bach and Duke Ellington will be well served.

There are, of course, limits. No remastering can recapture the great Joseph Joachim playing Mendelsohn: his violin is lost for ever to the ether. We will never know the sound of deaf Beethoven hammering at the keys. But just as the pianola gave way to the phonograph and LPs overtook 78s, so “live” recordings may challenge live concerts. Today’s pianists, flautists and cellists will have to work harder: they will soon be up against the competition of all the masters from ages past.