It’s very clear that he’s playing these pieces not to prove anything, not to make any cosmic statement. Does this album reveal for the first time the true essence of these six pieces in a way every predecessor had somehow missed? Of course not. But it’s sincere and honest, and I think much of its power comes from this indefinable sense - impossible to pin down fully in words - that Capuçon is not over-awed by the music or its aura.

These impressive accounts are elegant and thoughtful, his generous tone lit up from within with sufficient vibrato to caress the ear while simultaneously acknowledging current thinking on period performance practice... the musical cut and thrust is invariably leavened with delicate touches in earnest readings that manage to hit all the right emotional buttons.