I listened to an awful lot of Vivaldi concertos during lockdown – all 484 of those currently available on disc. My hour of ‘state-sanctioned daily exercise’ around the local park was filled with a variety of styles, from zippy period instruments to the staid – and frankly boring – I Musici recordings from the 1970s. But I never heard anything quite like this! Patricia Kopatchinskaja puts the cat among the musical pigeons of the Piazza San Marco with this zesty disc, ‘What’s Next Vivaldi?’, which juxtaposes the Red Priest with contemporary pieces commissioned by the violinist.

The five Vivaldi concertos here – three for solo violin, one concerto for strings, one (from L’estro armonico) for four violins – are given electrifying, often extrovert performances, none more so than the opening La tempesta di mare, which has Kopatchinskaja careering around the Grand Canal at such breathless tempos that she would face a speeding fine if only Venice’s carabinieri could catch her! She adds her own cadenza here, featuring creaking strings, a wind machine and vocals, ‘inspired by the ghosts from Pirates of the Caribbean’, as the booklet tells us.

Several violinists indulge in flights of fancy in the slow movement of Il Grosso Mogul but Kopatchinskaja’s take hovers somewhere over Budapest’s cafés, with the thrum of the cimbalom never far away. The only violinist I’ve heard who matches Kopatchinskaja’s abrasive tone in this concerto is Lina Tur Bonet, who also plays the original version which includes a lengthy cadenza by the composer himself (Pan Classics), although Kopatchinskaja can’t resist adding left-hand pizzicatos here which sound more Fritz Kreisler than Vivaldi. It’s infectious fun though, and Michele Pasotti, Il Giardino Armonico’s theorbo player, throws in some Indian-style riffs in the first movement (from 2'27") for good measure.

The contemporary works are like looking at Vivaldi through a prism. Aureliano Cattaneo’s Estroso has a similarly furious fast section to La tempesta di mare, preceded by the short Lazzo parlante, a vigorous vocal warm-up that was recorded without the group’s knowledge! Luca Francesconi’s Spiccato il volo for solo violin emerges from the end of RV157 like a frenzied cadenza, while Simone Movio’s Incanto XIX for violin and recorder (Giovanni Antonini) has the ghostly feel of La Serenissima in December, shrouded in fog. Marco Stroppa’s contribution is entitled Dilanio avvinto, an anagram of ‘Antonio Vivaldi’, translated as ‘tied up, I tear to pieces’. It is for sopranino recorder and violin, whose dialogue descends into fierce argument. Giovanni Sollima’s Moghul, taking its inspiration but not its notes from Vivaldi’s two concertos with the Grosso Mogul nickname, takes the violin into the perfumed heights, silks and spices of Sheherazade. The grungy Bartók duo is an odd way to end.

Throughout, Antonini and Il Giardino Armonico are willing accomplices. I well remember the thrill of discovering their Vivaldi recordings for Teldec in the early 1990s and this is a wonderful extension of their special connection to the Red Priest’s music.

Lukas Fierz’s booklet note quotes Johann Friedrich von Uffenbach upon hearing Vivaldi playing an accompagnement solo at the Teatro Sant’Angelo in 1715 during a performance of Ristori’s Orlando furioso. If the complete quote had been given, it would have ended: ‘With that he astonished everyone, but I cannot say that it beguiled me. It was not so pleasant to listen to as it was skilfully executed.’ Well, that’s a fair summary of this disc. There’s plenty to astonish here, much to delight, but it should probably come with some sort of a health warning for those of a nervous disposition.