Despite the age of these recordings, I find I can quickly adjust and listen through the sizzle and swish (reduced to some extent by the transfers). Though we may not be able to experience the full impact these violinists would have had on a live audience, we can, for instance, get a strong impression of Fritz Kreisler’s rich, sensuous tone in 1903, confirmed by the superior electric records he was to make 30 years later.

The major shock on hearing for the first time these virtuosi of a century ago concerns style, not sound quality. Did such famous artists really play with so little regard for stability of tempo, rhythmic accuracy and precise ensemble, and with those amazing slow slides? Is there any point in listening, other than to rejoice in the progress of string playing during the past century? Well, yes, there is, and for two good reasons.

Firstly, we can get an idea of how composers of the time expected their string music to sound – Joachim’s association with Brahms is well known and Arnold Rosé was also involved in important Brahms premieres (and with Schoenberg, too); both violinists are notable for their pure tone, often vibrato-free, pervasive rubato and smooth legato. Sarasate’s phenomenal dexterity and graceful, almost nonchalant demeanour gives a vivid idea of the original effect of the famous pieces he inspired by Lalo and Saint-Saëns. And there are some fascinating direct connections – Ysaÿe certainly heard Vieuxtemps playing his own music and the same goes for Gregorowicz playing Wieniawski (what a shame that the Souvenir of Moscow is shorn of its spectacular introduction). Barcewicz’s account of the Tchaikovsky Canzonetta, surprisingly fast and with extravagant rhythmic freedom, comes with the composer’s enthusiastic endorsement – Barcewicz had performed the Concerto in 1892, conducted by Tchaikovsky.

The other, more important, reason for listening is that, once you accept the aims and priorities of these old violinists, it’s possible to forget what initially seems quaint and appreciate the playing on its own terms. The performances of unaccompanied Bach, for instance, may be worlds away from today’s historical awareness, but the sensitive musicianship and clear tone of Joachim, Thibaut and Marteau allow them to give illuminating, strongly individual interpretations. Sarasate’s arrangement of a Chopin Nocturne translates an essentially vocal idiom to the violin as persuasively as Chopin himself had made his original pianistic transformation.

A very different, but equally convincing, vocally based style is demonstrated by Rosé in the first part of the Ernst Otello Fantasie. It’s fascinating, too, to hear how violin playing was changing at this time – the old guard (Joachim, Gregorowicz, Rosé) with their very limited use of vibrato, contrasting with the more glamorous tone of Ysaÿe, Thibaut and, above all Kreisler. And our present-day concern with precision and perfection of detail was beginning to make headway – in the vanguard are the two Sev?ík pupils, Jan Kubelík, with his sparkling silvery brilliance and somewhat detached manner, and Marie Hall, equally poised and exact, yet always maintaining a warm, appealing tone.