So this is the Stravinsky Violin Concerto I have so often seen on the page but rarely heard in performance. Three-dimensional – with a startling inner clarity and rhythmic keenness that brings if off the page in ways you couldn’t imagine. Honestly, it’s like having one’s ears freshly syringed.

Part of the delight – and it is heightened by choices in the rest of this beautifully curated programme – is the sense of ‘interaction’ (in the chamber music sense), of the soloist in more of a concertante role so that the cast of characters in Stravinsky’s motley ensemble can truly make their presence felt and impact on both each other and the soloist in ways that sound spontaneous, indeed almost improvisational. Focus is pulled in every bar to bring inner parts to the fore and underline the originality of the piece. And it helps that the quirkiness of their character is accentuated by the instruments themselves – the rusticity, the period colour and cast of Les Siècles. So with glorious Isabelle Faust playing on gut strings we are only moments into the concerto when a grumbling bucolic bassoon expresses delight that she has come to play in his register. Faust references The Soldier’s Tale in the booklet notes.

Rhythmically, as I say, it’s like everything has been re-strung and re-sprung so in the outer movements (especially the finale) there’s a sense of commedia dell’arte (after Pulcinella) invoking Bach so everyone can dance. Then there’s the ravishing second Aria where Faust makes the melody truly sing through the embellishments. The exquisite dissipation of the closing measures – perfect in poise, balance, feeling – is magical in ways I’ve never heard before.

The disc opens with the second tableau of Apollon Musagète – ‘Apollo and the Muses’ – a fitting curtain-raiser to the Concerto and assorted miniatures to follow. Stravinsky the playful, master of pastiche, and Stravinsky the obtuse and mystical are each represented here. In the first of the Three Pieces for string quartet the folksy and primitive are catapulted into the 20th century while the second and third remain strange incantations lost in time and space. The musical abstractions of the Double Canon for string quartet and the 1920 Concertino pose their own cryptic questions while the Pastorale for violin, oboe, cor anglais, clarinet and bassoon has Faust as a soloist among soloists in what sounds for all the world like a missing interlude from The Rake’s Progress.

A delicious and enlightening disc in so many ways and further testament to the insights of François-Xavier Roth and his very special ensemble.