It must be said that Nemanja Radulovic´’s Bach and I did not get off to a good start. The disc opens with the D minor Double Violin Concerto, and while the extraordinary speed of the opening Vivace is impressive, when each phrase is dust on the horizon before your dizzied ears have even registered its approach then I’d say things have gone too far. However, read on, because after a few bars of the gentler Largo ma non tanto I fell in love. This was partly down to Radulovic´’s truly exquisite technique and tone, but ultimately it was his attitude to Bach that did it.

In the Baroque world it sometimes feels as though we’ve sanctified Bach to the point of his music becoming a bit like a Patek Philippe watch – ‘you never really own it, you merely look after it for the next generation’. That’s not to say that there aren’t wonderful period performances out there, but a Bach recording that speaks as much of its musicians as of what we think we know about Bach feels very invigorating.

So. Vibrato? Absolutely. Portamentos? Yes. Tempo and metre? Let’s be exciting. It’s not overdone, and it is couched within a Baroque performance framework. Still, there is a spirit of freedom, and the results are passionate readings that yank the great JS down from the heavens back into visceral humanity. You can hear this particularly in Aleksandar Sedlar’s almost rock-guitarist style arrangements of the Toccata and Fugue and the Chaconne, where both Double Sens and Les Trilles du Diable are with Radulovic´ every step of the way. Another highlight is the Solo Partita No 3’s Gavotte, where I found myself hanging on every gloriously glowing note as Radulovic´’s stunningly coloured part-writing unfurled.

I’ll never be convinced that the D minor’s Vivace is ripe for land speed record attempts, but as far as Radulovic´’s approach goes, I’m sold.