Competition in recordings of Bach’s solo violin music is strong and plentiful, and one might be forgiven for thinking Pablo Suárez Calero brave to take it on. He seems to be playing a violin, if not in Baroque set-up, then at least with gut strings; his 1780 Gagliano has the lean resonance of one (enriched by a helpful but controlled church acoustic), and his bow often has both the lyrical flexibility of a pre-Tourte model (especially in slower and quieter movements) and its lightness and quickness in faster ones. At other times he has the bolder projection, more sustained line, projected vibrato and fruity double-stops of a ‘modern’ player. It’s a combination that may in itself be a selling-point for listeners who favour neither extreme, and it is certain that Suárez’s performances combine strong technique with pleasing sound and a decent sense of Baroque style. Tender movements such as the Grave of the Second Sonata or the Sarabande of the Third Partita are particularly affecting in their caressing phrases and telling use of silence, but in quicker movements – especially perpetual motions like the Doubles of the First Partita – his semiquaver scampers can be unvarying in rhythm and attack.

Yet there is something that makes this recording special. As far as I know it is the only complete recording of the Sonatas and Partitas to incorporate the ‘hidden’ vocal glosses, in the form of accompanying fragments of Lutheran chorale melodies, that the German musicologist Helge Thoene detected in the music in her analysis of the works in the 1990s. Thoene’s theory was that they served as hidden references to Christmas, Easter and Pentecost, and although she did not suggest them for performance, some people have been unable to resist giving them voice, the most notable result coming from Christoph Poppen and the Hilliard Ensemble in their high-selling album ‘Morimur’ (ECM, 11/01). That was an artfully planned programme mixing chorales with the Second Partita and in particular the Chaconne, which appeared both with and without voices. Suárez simply adds his team of four voices and a cello to the relevant movements in his complete performance – five out of the total of 32 – which means you cannot escape them if they are not what you want. In places the results sound a little clumsy for Bach, and the singing can divert attention from the meat of the music, but there are times when it does seem to add an extra layer of haunting expression. The most successful are the Chaconne, where all is swept up in the passion of the piece, and in the Third Sonata, where the Fugue really is made to sound like an amazingly sophisticated accompaniment and the Largo is shepherded gently to a diminuendo finish. An unusual and fascinating listen, for sure, but not one to make your only choice for the repertoire.