That the Verona-born violinist and composer Giuseppe Torelli has long been recognised as an important figure in the development of Baroque instrumental music (and the solo concerto in particular) is a fact yet to be reflected in range of recordings. From an output of eight published opuses only 5, 6 and 8 seem to have received complete accounts, while nearly another 100 individual works left in manuscript are represented mainly by a handful of popular trumpet concertos (whose usefulness to, well, trumpeters is obvious).

The evidence of this premiere recording of the Op 2 Concerti da camera of 1686 is that concern over quality should not have been a cause for neglect. Torelli was sometimes a bit free with his terminology, and the music of Op 2 is in fact 12 trio sonatas for two violins and continuo that combine lightness and air with alert rhythmic invention and sound construction (Torelli was, after all, a member of the Accademia Filarmonica in Bologna, an erudite body not averse to writing to pick up such a figure as Corelli on his musical grammar). All have three short dance movements that fly by in a flurry of kicks and flicks both fast and fleeting; only six out of the 36 tracks are over three minutes, while 11 do not even outlast 60 seconds. The overall mood is frisky and playful, though deeper emotions are hinted at in some of the slower ballettos and allemandas. Little surprises also add to the enjoyment: the sarabandas are fast, Italian-style ones; a curious largo gigha sounds exactly like a normal gigha played slowly; and there are frequent rhythmic tics to catch the listener’s attention.

The performances, by an Italian group making their debut recording, sparkle too. The Rosso Verona Baroque Ensemble produce a sweet but incisive sound in a church acoustic that adds bloom without significant loss of clarity, even when a harp is added to the harpsichord continuo. The string players discharge much busy but integrated ornamentation, and that they have taken the trouble to consider each piece on its own merits is suggested by the variety of approaches – some passages are allotted to solo harpsichord – and by the fact that they have chosen their own programming order rather than just running straight from No 1 to No 12. If only they had kept the gaps between all these mini-movements shorter – some could have been halved in my opinion – the album would have been perfect. As it is, it makes for a delicious discovery.