Well, what a treat this is. I can’t be the only one who finds themselves, whenever a fresh concerto recording appears from La Serenissima, anticipating with especial pleasure the solo turns from the ensemble’s violinist director, Adrian Chandler. So while it’s equally true that a huge element of the La Serenissima fun is its orchestral spring and zing, to mix things up with something as pared-down and focused on Chandler’s musical storytelling as a disc of Tartini violin sonatas gets my vote tenfold.

Repertoire-wise, Chandler and chums – cellist Vladimir Waltham, theorbist and guitarist Lynda Sayce and harpsichordist Robin Bigwood – have gone down the mixed-menu route here, and to great effect. From the 12 Corelli-influenced Op 1 Sonatas (Amsterdam, 1734) they’ve selected two chamber sonatas and one church sonata. Nestled among these are two representatives from the 26 Piccole sonate that Tartini sent to Frederick the Great in 1750; and since Tartini stipulated in his accompanying letter that these works could be performed either entirely solo or with cello accompaniment, Chandler provides an example of each approach. Then, for the grand finale, the famous Devil’s Trill Sonata, legendary both for the colourful story Tartini wove around its genesis – that he had heard the Devil play it during a dream, having made a pact with the latter for his soul – and for the high fiendishness of its technical demands.

Devil’s Trill aside, it’s safe to say that any violinist allergic to constant and prolonged double-stopping or unable to handle such finger-twisting complexities with poetry is going to be giving any Tartini a wide berth, given that double-stopping isn’t so much his spice as his bread and butter. Yet Chandler doesn’t just sound on top of it, but actually in his comfort zone. His Devil’s Trill is dazzling: crisply articulated, smack bang in tune, theatrically multi-voiced, and with all manner of different shades and colours. Plus there’s the sheer wall-to-wall energy of it all. He’s a violinist-shaped tornado, albeit dancing rather than hurtling. Pause, too, to admire the utter radiance and beautifully shaped voicing with which he dances, glides and skips his way through the first Op 1 Sonata’s fugue, further enhanced by Waltham’s expertly deftly balanced contributions to the counterpoint – and indeed the strong musical bond between these four longtime collaborating musicians is another continuous theme. The album’s highlight might well be the completely solo Sonata No 6 in E minor, simply because of its opportunity to fully appreciate Chandler’s interpretative poetry and his tonal mix of wide, softly earthy warmth and slenderer luminosity.

Add Chandler’s informative booklet-note essay and the whole is as delicious as the pizza on the cover looks.