Head straight to the opening Adagio of Sonata No 4 in F to get a flavour of Rachel Barton Pine’s interpretations of these sonatas. There is sweetness and shine, elegant phrasing, light and shade. But listen closer and the playing reveals itself as incredibly prescriptive, occasionally banal. Instead of being at one with the music, it sounds as if Pine is trying to do what the musical notation tells her to do; it’s a subtle difference, perhaps, but one that grows into a chasm on repeated listening. The ornamentation edges on the cliché. Even the way Pine trills feels like the result of someone teaching her that this is the way to trill.

The least successful moments are when Pine tackles Corelli’s counterpoint. In the fugal Allegro of Sonata No 1 in D, chords are laboriously spread. While admittedly such writing requires a firmer, more rigorous touch, Pine attacks the chords with such equality to produce a fairly one dimensional result.

For the closing sonata, Follia, the most famous of Corelli’s set, Pine plays on a viola d’amore. Her reasoning for this – ‘I was a little jealous that my friends were using multiple instruments’ – simply put, is bizarre. Had the results turned out better, perhaps I would have been enchanted by the experiment. But it becomes clear early on indeed that Corelli did not write Follia for viola d’amore for a reason. Pine does not manage to navigate the six strings of her Gagliano viola d’amore successfully. This is increasingly obvious in the chordal and more virtuosic variations. There are too many moments that simply sound cumbersome, and the playing falls flat – not in terms of intonation, though that is far from perfect, too.