Long relatively neglected on disc, Mozart’s ‘sonatas for harpsichord or fortepiano, with the accompaniment of a violin’, as they were routinely billed, have been richly served in recent years. On modern instruments the Hyperion cycle from Alina Ibragimova and Cédric Tiberghien has proved near-definitive. There is much to relish, too, in the period-instrument recordings from Rachel Podger and Gary Cooper (Channel Classics). On the evidence of the first two volumes, the new period-instrument cycle from the seasoned pairing of Isabelle Faust and Alexander Melnikov promises to match all comers in style and fantasy.

From the puckish opening Allegro of K376 – one of the first works Mozart composed after setting up as a freelance composer in Vienna – you’re aware of an eager creative partnership, with Faust and Melnikov delightedly seconding and undercutting each other. The crucial balance between theme and accompaniment is always cannily judged. Rhythms are pliable (they use more rubato than either of the rival duos), bass lines strongly etched and directed; and in each of the faster movements you sense Mozart’s mischievous, faintly anarchic spirit lurking beneath the urbane surface.

The sound world created by Faust’s gut strung ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Stradivari and Melnikov’s reproduction 1790s Walter fortepiano is, of course, leaner and more abrasive than that evoked by Ibragimova and Tiberghien. The results can be controversial. Whereas the Hyperion duo heed Mozart’s prescribed grazioso in K376’s finale, Faust and Melnikov, with their percussive attack and accentuation, give the main theme a lusty bucolic flavour.

More than on the rival recordings, Faust and Melnikov vary and embellish repeats, often tweaking Mozart’s lines in the process. I loved the cheeky little decorations in K301’s opening Allegro, which, typically, emerges as opera buffa by other means. On occasion, though, the players can take rhythmic flexibility to extremes, as in the first movement of K378, where the crisp, march-like second theme is whimsically distended in the repeat. But far more often I found myself smiling at the wit and caprice of the playing: in K305’s ‘hunting’ Allegro di molto, its coltish impulsiveness barely contained, or the colouristic range of the same sonata’s variation finale, including Faust’s brittle sul ponticello in the minore variation. At the other end of the spectrum, the not-so-slow movements of K376 and K378 have a natural lyrical flow, enhanced by expressive ornamentation and graceful touches of portamento. True spontaneity is elusive in the recording studio. Faust and Melnikov give the illusion, at least, that they are responding to and recreating the music on the spot. Roll on Vol 3.