While there are many fine recordings of Shostakovich’s and Rachmaninov’s cello sonatas, not many have them coupled together, even in compilations such as Truls Mørk’s Erato set of various Russian sonatas (Erato, 11/96), where he was partnered variously by Jean-Yves Thibaudet (Rachmaninov) and the late, much-missed Lars Vogt (Shostakovich). For the most part, I have focused only on comparative recordings coupling them, including two well-received competitors still available from Victor Julien-Laferrière and Jonas Vitaud (Alpha, 1/20), coupled with a miniature by Denisov, and Boris Andrianov and Rem Urasin (Quartz, 9/07), which included a rendition of Rachmaninov’s Vocalise that impressed John Warrack.

On Navona’s new album, Carmine Miranda and Robert Marler concentrate on the sonatas without the need for arguably inconsequential interludes or distractions. The first thing to be said about their version of the Shostakovich D minor (1934) is its pace – this is one of the swiftest accounts I have encountered, full of vim and vigour in the three fast movements, ardent in its lyricism in the Largo. The sonata was written at a time of emotional upheaval in the composer’s personal life, during his brief divorce from his first wife, Nina. Miranda and Marler catch the music’s mercurial, passionate nature as well as any pair have done, their momentum providing an immediacy – especially in Navona’s clear sound – that gives even Rostropovich and the composer (Warner Classics, 12/58) a run for their money.

There is a similar thrust to their account of the Rachmaninov Sonata, too, full of impulsion in the quicker movements. This permits them to relish the lyrical moments (the opening Allegro’s second subject, for instance, and the Andante third movement) without wallowing in what can sometimes seem like an over-ripe style. Praise to Robert Marler’s accompaniment: a fiendishly difficult part that can easily overwhelm the cello but played here with a lightness of touch that would not be amiss in Schubert. Miranda and Marler may not quite match Lynn Harrell’s wonderfully exuberant mid-1980s account with Ashkenazy (Decca, 8/86) but they are, I feel, more than a match for more recent rivals.