Massimiliano Neri cuts an interesting figure among the ranks of 16th-century Venetian composers. He was born around 1620 to a Veronese father whose pro-imperialist leanings had led him to work in the courts of Munich, Neuburg and Düsseldorf. The family arrived in Venice when Massimiliano was about seven. When his father returned to Germany, Massimiliano stayed behind and rose to become organist at St Mark’s. But in 1651 the post turned sour when he published his second collection of works and travelled to Vienna seeking the emperor’s patronage for them. This got him informed on to Venice’s state inquisitors, so when in 1664 he got wind of the death of the Kapellmeister in Bonn, where his uncle lived, he sneakily obtained leave of absence from the Venetian chapel, travelled to Germany, got the post and never returned – but died a couple of years later. Not a bad yarn, is it?

As for the musical soundtrack to this politically choppy life, not much has survived intact, and some reconstruction has been necessary. Yet Concerto Scirocco’s selection paints a fascinatingly diverse picture, with instrumental works ranging from small groups to polychoral ensembles, plus three motets for which the ensemble is joined by Voces Suaves. What leaps out as you listen is how little this sounds like an archetypal Venetian ‘early music’ programme. The textures, timbres and rhetoric are too complex, developed and diverse, whether it’s small-forces sonatas looking ahead to the 18th-century trio sonata or larger groupings heading towards the concerto grosso. Listen for instance to the Canzon seconda a 4 (from Op 1), where the soloistic feel of its violin-writing and its overall contrapuntal, rhetorical complexity sounds a lot like a Venetian-flavoured version of what Corelli would be up to in Rome in a few decades’ time. And it’s not even all Italian-sounding. Take the motet Liebster Jesu – written in fact by Neri’s Florentine soprano wife, Caterina Giani, and here sung by Christina Boner with gorgeously cool, light, crisp purity – which sounds quite Schütz y.

The two 12-voice sonatas come with a brilliant mix of festive pomp and twinkle-toed sparkle, the brass notably light and agile. But perhaps the highlight is the Sonata decima à otto, juxtaposing choirs of recorders and strings against two theorbos, which under this lot’s fingers dances, flirts, sighs, converses and reflects with joyous warmth, the contrasting timbres beautifully balanced. Essentially, Neri has in every way been done proud here.