Pieter Wispelwey’s multi-album mission to record all of Brahms’s and Schubert’s duos – not just the ones for cello – has struck a special chord with me over the course of its creation. Partly because it’s very clearly been a labour of love, and partly because it’s thrown up a few really interesting interpretations: for instance, hearing what the cello can do with Schubert’s Introduction and Variations on ‘Trockne Blumen’ for flute (2/16). So now here is the fifth and final instalment, which as ever is further strengthened by hugely enjoyable and committed partnering from pianist Paolo Giocometti, and I’d say it’s probably my favourite.

Top of my personal pops is Wispelwey’s opener, Brahms’s Violin Sonata in G major: a work which, unlike the Op 108 Violin Sonata also on this disc, has existed in a cello incarnation ever since it was transcribed by Paul Klengel during the last year of Brahms’s life. However, while Klengel transposed it into D, Wispelwey sets it back into G for the first time, and the results leave you wondering why no one thought of doing this before, because it feels so right. Take the cello’s first-movement entry: whereas Klengel’s transposition places the opening theme on the cello’s highest string, and thus introduces a shine not there in the violin version (which begins on its softer second string), Wispelwey’s G major repatriation has reintroduced all the original’s soft, autumnal intimacy, further offset by the cello’s own more dulcet tones. It’s a winner, and I hope other cellists begin to follow suit.

Schubert’s Violin Sonatina No 1 is an equal hit: understandably less gossamer-light than in its violin original but with Wispelwey bringing enough slender fragility and nimbleness to his radiant tones to make it more than work. Then the old cellist’s chestnut, the Arpeggione Sonata, which sounds both like the fruits of decades of thoughtful exploration and as fresh as new paint.

I don’t really like to add any niggles to all the above. However, I will just whisper that my one occasional reservation across the entire series has been the closeness of the recorded sound, and it’s a similar story again here. On the plus side, this has delivered a vividness and immediacy that bring their own pleasures: take the excitingly meaty thwack of bow against strings on the FAE Sonata’s fortissimo chord (bar 238). I’m less a fan of the very audible breathing; every so often it detracts slightly from the impression of elegance you feel from Wispelwey live. Still, read that more as ‘be aware’ than ‘be warned’, because ultimately this series deserves a hefty ‘bravo’.