This is the first release in Mendelssohn year to have come my way that truly adds to the festivities. It has in common with Mutter’s high-profile release both the Concerto and the D minor Piano Trio, but there the similarities end. This is quite without gimmicks, with no bonus DVD and without the airbrushing – musical or otherwise. Kavakos offers a compelling, unsugary reading of the Concerto (where, for a change, you sense the legacy of Beethoven as much as anyone). But lack of heart-on-sleeve isn’t to suggest in any way a lack of expression: quite the reverse – how Kavakos revels in those moments of introspection, the violin looking down from way, way up in the stratosphere. There’s plenty of fine detail, too, both in the solo part and the orchestra, but there’s always a sense of it arising out of the music; Mutter by comparison sounds very premeditated. The Camerata’s playing is an additional delight, creating an intimate rapport with the soloist.

In lesser hands, Kavakos’s moderate tempo for the slow movement might threaten to drag, but – as Hilary Hahn has previously shown – if the interpretation is sufficiently interesting, it can still convince, even though for my taste the slightly swifter Hope is better still. The finale is less an explosion of exuberance than Hope’s, but Kavakos’s filigree lightness bodes well for the chamber music and the climactic build-up is utterly life-enhancing.

The trios are on a similar level, with Kavakos joined by two superb musicians. It’s striking in the second movement of the D minor Trio that they observe Mendelssohn’s detached markings – unlike many who can’t resist the temptation to swoon here. And the Trio of the same work is a relief after the caution of the Mutter recording, the pianist Enrico Pace almost giving Jonathan Gilad (with Fischer and Müller-Schott) a run for his money.

If there’s less mystery about the C minor’s opening than revealed by Fischer et al, then the slow movement is beautifully poised and the finale justifiably exultant.