Gone, it would seem, are the days when Mendelssohn’s piano trios, like so much of his music, were routinely patronised as lightweight and all-too-easy in effect. Today we can acknowledge that their dazzling surface polish also admits of depth and intensity of expression; and the best performers, including the Florestan, balance Classical grace and Romantic ardour while being careful to keep Mendelssohn’s virtuoso piano parts from overwhelming the strings.

With its unforgettable opening cello theme, the D minor First has always been the more favoured of the two. But in a performance as subtle and impassioned as the Florestan’s, the C minor Second seems at least as fine. The powerful, almost Brahmsian first movement alone should give the lie to the cliché that Mendelssohn’s genius declined irredeemably after the brilliance of youth. While always keeping the potentially dense textures lucid (Susan Tomes’s refined, singing tone and articulation a constant pleasure), the Florestan play this with a mingled fire and lyrical tenderness that I have never heard bettered. Even the Beaux Arts, 1967 vintage, and the Gould Trio, on their excellent Naxos recording, sound a touch sober by comparison.

The flowing barcarolle slow movement has a crucial quality of innocence, and the flickering nocturnal Scherzo is as delicate and pointed as you could wish, at a tempo close to Mendelssohn’s optimistically fast marking, while the finale drives impulsively towards its triumphant chorale apotheosis, grandly inevitable rather than bombastic.

From the yearning opening, the great cello melody surging across the barlines, the Florestan are equally vivid in the D minor Trio. Scrupulously observant, as ever, of Mendelssohn’s detailed dynamic markings, they make you more than usually aware of how much of the music is held down to piano and pianissimo; and the moment at the start of the recapitulation, where Richard Lester’s warm cello is counterpoised with violinist Anthony Marwood’s fragile, floated descant, is as magical as you will hear.

Again the Florestan favour an easily flowing tempo for the song-without-words slow movement, phrasing in long spans (uncommonly pure, luminous duetting from Marwood and Lester) and finding a touch of playfulness when the main theme returns. Just as fine are the irresistible airborne Scherzo and the finale, where the Florestan, taking note of the qualifying un poco tranquillo, make the opening march unusually pensive before sweeping forward with an authentically Mendelssohnian mix of restless agitation, grace and lyrical fervour. Pleasure in these superb performances is enhanced by a beautifully natural recording and Robert Philip’s detailed, illuminating notes.