From the outset these 12 concertos have always been beyond borders – created for diverse occasions in Rome, revised by Corelli for publication in Amsterdam (appearing posthumously in 1714) and lionised in early Georgian Britain – so it hardly matters whether their present-day interpreters hold Dutch, German, Swiss, British or American passports. Even so, the Ravenna-based Accademia Bizantina has roots in the same eastern corner of Emilia Romagna as Corelli, and it is the first entirely Italian baroque band to record the original orchestration of Op 6 for nearly three decades.

HDB Sonus’s copious book lists 21 players but does not credit the concertino soloists clearly; concertmaster Alessandro Tampieri is presumably joined by violinist Ana Liz Ojeda and cellist Emmanuel Jacques in solo trio passages that converse gregariously with the ripieno string orchestra. Accademia Bizantina’s playing offers gleeful fantasy or smooth serenity. The middle of the texture is comparatively underpowered (the ripieno has only two violas), although the bottom end of the sonic spectrum is enhanced by the tiny cello section being joined by three mixed lower bass instruments (one of them a violone made in 1685 by a Roman luthier who played with Corelli). Chordal continuo realisations are spread expertly among an archlute, theorbo, organ and director Ottavio Dantone at the harpsichord.

The quick succession of sections that opens No 2 traverses between fizzy liveliness and whispered intimacy. Darker-tinged emotions in No 3, especially the melancholic counterpoint of its central Grave and the dramatic tension of the ensuing Vivace, benefit from a shrewd balance of muscle and poeticism. The bookending fast movements of No 4 have shaded quick-fire exchanges between concertino soloists and ripieno orchestra. The Largo at the heart of No 6 is shaped poignantly. The pifa-inspired final Pastorale of the ‘Christmas Concerto’ (No 8) maintains an oscillation between soft lullaby and rustic firmness. During the last four concertos assorted dances are invested with lucid motion and personality. In No 10 the Allemanda tiptoes merrily (several members of the ensemble emerge to deliver little solos over the ostinato ‘riff’), and its paired Corrente and Gavotta are charmingly light on their feet thanks to immaculately softened landings.

Interventionist tricks are few and far between. The concluding Vivace of No 7 turns momentarily into an organ concerto. An Adagio bridge into the final Minuet of No 9 has all three concertino soloists taking turns in extended cadential embellishments. Perpetual arpeggiation by alternating harpsichord and archlute throughout the Sarabanda of No 11 consumes every available silence. Dantone fills up the central Adagio of No 11 like the slow movement of a harpsichord concerto. In such instances, Corelli’s composition is hardly discernible any more, but of course he would never have expected it to be played exactly come scritto. For that matter, he would never have expected anyone to listen to all 12 concerti grossi in one sitting, but Accademia Bizantina’s cohesion of dynamism and finesse is enthralling from beginning to end.