Amazing to think that in 1965, with a violinist of Itzhak Perlman’s calibre on its books, RCA shelved what was in effect a highly auspicious début album. The reason? According to Eric Wen’s excellent booklet-note, ‘a mixed bag of violin pieces didn’t seem appropriate for an artist of his stature’. Very odd. So this collection has had to wait almost 40 years for its release. Only one item has appeared previously, a fine account of Sarasate’s lilting Navarra for two violins, where Perlman recorded the first part then overdubbed the second, watertight as playing though it’s strange that the violins are recorded in mono.

The programme opens with three dextrous Paganini Caprices, beautifully played (superb arpeggios in the E major piece) but granted a rather brittle edge by Max Wilcox’s otherwise lifelike recording. Ben-Haim’s lyrical Berceuse sfaradite reveals Perlman at his most intimately expressive, and Handel’s E major Sonata is a nice compromise between discreet romantic expression and stylistic decorum (Elman and Heifetz are infinitely more luscious). Hindemith’s early E flat Sonata benefits from the fundamental warmth of Perlman’s approach, and Bloch’s Nigun is tonally alluring without sounding especially passionate. Perhaps the most subtly moulded performance is of the Leclair Sonata, which, like the Handel, is muscular and honeyed but never overbearing. The Falla and Bazzini pieces sound effortlessly brilliant, Perlman’s bow as agile as ever. The whole programme is informed by a rounded, vibrant tone which never sounds ‘nervy’ or excessively intense.

The seal was already set; the playing couldn’t possibly be anyone else’s, though Perlman would soon widen the scope of his interpretative language. ‘On the whole, it’s not bad,’ was his own verdict, apparently. ‘Not half!’ I’d add, with an admiring nod or two in the direction of pianist David Garvey.