There’s every likelihood, were it not for his being highlighted as Gramophone’s One to Watch in the November issue, that the American violinist Nathan Meltzer would be a new name to many readers, given that he’s still only 20 years of age. However, based on what I’m hearing on this debut album – part of the package for becoming the youngest-ever winner of the Windsor International String Competition back in 2017 – I’d wager that we’ll all be hearing a lot more from him over the years to come.

Equally unfamiliar to many will be the album’s dedicatee, the Polish-American violinist Roman Totenberg (1911-2012), given that although this former pupil of Carl Flesch, Georges Enescu and Pierre Monteux did enjoy a distinguished performance career, his greatest gift to the musical world was chiefly as a teacher. But for Meltzer he is a central figure, because Meltzer now plays the 1734 Stradivarius violin that was Totenberg’s before it was stolen from him after a concert in 1980, and not recovered until 35 years later, after his death. Hence this album of homage, bringing together a collection of Totenberg’s favourite pieces; and an emotionally resonant extra titbit is that just a few days before recording this in the Champs Hill music room, Meltzer had performed a recital in the very hall from which the instrument was stolen, at the Longy School of Music in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Still, as I’ve already hinted, the reason you should care about this album isn’t because it’s got a great back story but because this is wonderful playing, supremely polished in technical terms and exuding maturity. Space precludes a detailed description of everything on the programme but I was sold from the first notes of the programme-opening Bach Sonata No 3 – a ‘modern’ reading with its soft vibrato, but period-aware in terms of the clean poise of Meltzer’s delivery and the constant curve of his lines and inflections. Then a gorgeously coloured and shaped Franck Sonata that strikes immediately for the silky legato brought to the thirds of its opening theme; and equally for the satiny softness of the ensuing Allegro, rendering it less stormy than often heard, in favour of a gently mournful and even ethereal character; and then again for the luminous-toned exaltation at the final movement’s close. Also on show throughout the Franck has been Rohan De Silva’s exquisite delicacy and voicing, and the balance between the two players that pitches this absolutely as an evenly weighted duet. The warm, intimate engineering also deserves mention, realising the violin’s rounded, husky lower registers and the sweet, bright clarity of its uppers, while ensuring we’re equally aware of the glowing tone De Silva produces on the piano.

In short, this is a stunning album – to the extent that this may now be my go-to recording of the Franck.