Ingolf Turban marks 30 years of performing with the release of this recital recorded live in Munich last April. He chooses a different violin for each Brahms sonata – an 1808 Nicolas Lupot for No 1, a 1721 Stradivari for No 2 and, for No 3, an instrument made in 2009 by Martin Schleske. It’s an interesting selling point, but is it enough?

Unfortunately for Turban, I’d recently been relistening to the wondrous Gioconda de Vito (Testament, 12/93) and it was very much her sound that was in my head as I turned to this new set. Some would argue that this is unfair pressure – ditto the mention of Josef Suk (Decca, 1/68) or Adolf Busch (EMI) – and that music is not a competitive sport. But when you can acquire such legendary recordings for the same kind of price (or less if you’re minded to acquire a box-set) then it is a pertinent point.

Time and again Turban and Gabriele Seidel-Hell demonstrate their ease with this music: tempos are apt, slow movements flow well and there’s a good sense of give and take, even if the violin is occasionally overly dominant when accompanying the keyboard.

With the exception of the slow introduction to the Second Sonata, the audience is generally quiet. It is in this work that the two players are at their best, and it unfolds seamlessly, with a notably flowing second movement and a heartfelt finale. However, here and elsewhere the perils of live recording reveal themselves via moments of sour tuning (to give just a few instances: track 1, 4'30"; track 3, 0'10"; track 6, 4'01"; the Schumann encore, track 11, 0'07") and ensemble isn’t always completely spot-on.

That would matter less if these interpretations left a really strong mark but they lack the characterisation of the best, and I craved a greater range of dynamics, particularly at the quieter end of the spectrum. In their hands, the opening of the Third Sonata is fervent from the off, whereas Znaider and Bronfman (RCA, 7/07) are initially much more withdrawn, giving them a greater breadth of expression but also lending the bolder writing a sense of fragility. Or try the finale of the First Sonata, at the point where it magically moves to E flat, the violin’s double-stopping marked espressivo (track 3, 3'48"): with Turban and Seidel-Hell it feels abrupt; how much more organic it is in the hands of Dumay and Pires (DG, 3/93). Overall, not a game-changer.