Leaping from his cello chair in the Quatuor Mosaïques‚ Christophe Coin reveals the directorial side of his musical persona in a beautifully conceived programme of Dietrich Buxtehude’s exquisite instrumental and vocal chamber works. Not surprisingly‚ Coin’s viola da gamba is the thread binding the whole‚ as the piccolo cello was to be in his Bach disc of Cantatas (Nos 180‚ 115‚ 49). He is not afraid to project his considered vision of each work‚ playing with a robust and astringent timbre in the uplifting ritornelli of Jubilate Domino and the sui generis trio sonatas for violin‚ gamba and continuo. In the former‚ he plumps for a light ‘haute­contre’ tenor (in the French style) to replace the more usual countertenor‚ so to recreate the type of ‘chest voice’ which might have characterised an Italian castrato. If not entirely effortless sounding‚ there is an open­hearted generosity to the singing of Rodrigo del Pozo; the emotional climate is gauged to perfection by Coin’s rhapsodic instrumental commentaries. This is indeed a work of supreme bravura‚ although I am inclined‚ by a short head‚ towards the honey­toned falsetto of James Bowman and Andreas Scholl in this fine piece. The same irresistible joie de vivre informs the ostinato bass of the first movement of the B flat Sonata where Coin finds an ideal sparring partner in the mischievous and quixotic figuration of violinist‚ Gilles Colliard. Here and in the A minor Op 1 Sonata‚ bold characterisation and imaginative colouration (if not always the most discerning use of vibrato) sit in easy relief to the tempo relationships‚ which draw together these concentrated canzona­like sections. This is ultra­civilised chamber music. From such a varied palette‚ Ensemble Baroque de Limoges convey with great sympathy Buxtehude’s remarkably varied emotional landscape‚ and nowhere more so than in the deeply affecting vocal concerto‚ Gen Himmel zu dem Vater mein. Here‚ Buxtehude summons up all possible incandescence in realising a musical snapshot of Christ’s Ascension. It is a com­pelling masterpiece. Bénédicte Tauran is‚ on first hearing‚ a rather breathy soprano (at the ‘mezzo’ end) but she is an involving presence and warms her sound around the alluring instrumental counterpoint. Emma Kirkby delivers another convincing perspective in her dignified and objective reading‚ a recording which also introduces the contrapuncti from Buxtehude’s ‘Fried und Freudenreiche’ as effective interludes to the vocal music. But it is the Klaglied – a truly personal elegy to a devoted father – which forms the emotional climax of both discs‚ and the Purcell Quartet’s recent recording of that name. Unassumingly presented as Buxtehude’s signature tune‚ this strophic aria (heard here with two tremolo gambas) is as hard to pull off as a great Purcell song. Kirkby does so movingly in her version with organ‚ but Coin takes it too slowly and Tauran’s voice cannot sustain the line of this ravishingly touching text. A slight let­down after the brilliance of what precedes it‚ but still a very fine disc which ends with a dazzling performance of the Toccata in D minor.