I think CPE Bach would have got on well with François Lazarevitch, such is the quantity of curiosity and imagination – sometimes to an arguably maverick degree – the French flautist brings to his interpretations of even the most core Baroque repertoire. I’m thinking especially of the rhythmic and articulational invention he brought to van Eyck’s Der Fluyten Lust-Hof (7/21); if, like me, you enjoyed that recording, then you’re likely to be equally beguiled by his reading of CPE Bach’s A minor Sonata for solo flute, Wq132. Inspired by the 18 keyboard sonatas Bach published between 1760 and 1763, which sees the composer make a fresh divergence from his original thematic material over each new repeat of a section or motif, Lazarevitch applies that same principle to his reading of CPE’s solo flute sonata, making, ‘in all due humility, significant changes to the repeated passages of its two fast movements’. Sounds dangerous, but it’s impossible to argue with the results – and not only because of the sheer thrill of not knowing what’s coming next. As ever, there’s also the variety he brings to his articulation and phrasing (birdsong often springs to mind), along with his equally characteristic sense of rhythmic pulse combined with a fluidly improvisatory feel.

But of course Lazarevitch is not the only name on this album’s ticket. Equally key to its success is period keyboardist Justin Taylor, with his similar talent for making ancient repertoire sound newly minted. So hop next to his own solo spot – the melancholy and improvisatory Fantasia in F sharp minor, Wq67, of 1787 – and there are further riches to be savoured. In fact, once Taylor’s reading is in your head, you may struggle to find another that so fully captures the impression of an outpouring of instinctive creation and the principle of Empfindsamkeit or ‘sentimental style’, such is the crisp detail and expressive variety of his articulation and his deft employment of dynamic contrast.

Such qualities radiate from Lazarevitch and Taylor’s solo playing. Put them together for the four trio sonatas that are the bulk of the programme and the results are every bit as good, as is clear from the outset of the Trio Sonata in D minor, Wq145, where they catch and imitate each other’s polyphonic lines with an easy organicism and captivating range of expression.

I should add that the superb engineering is part of the pleasure. Recorded in the Rosario monastery in the Flemish village of Bever, the sound is immediate but not too close, with an impeccable balance between flute and piano.