Although written over a fairly condensed stretch of time (they don’t cover his whole career but rather the prolific, pre-deafness period in the middle), the musical importance of Beethoven’s violin sonatas is varied, with that of the Kreutzer – not written last, but nine years before the 10th – generally the strongest. It is quite right, then, that it is the Kreutzer that Midori Seiler sets up most powerfully in its unaccompanied opening (and which is not confounded or disappointed by the entry of the pianoforte, a contemporary copy by van Immerseel of a copy contemporary to van Beethoven) and the whole performance is beautifully contrasted with the other sonatas in the collection. The extraordinary mercuriality of this piece is compellingly represented here as the listener is wrenched from the beauty of Beethoven’s melodies to the almost unbearable build-up of momentum in some of the transition passages, with such a lack of mercy that it is impossible not to wonder why any performer would feel the need for the heavy guns of modern instruments to illustrate Beethoven’s arguments, when gut strings can create so much tension.

By paring the performance down, both by limiting the intensity of the phrasing as well as imbuing it with the spirit of the late 18th century with the period keyboard and violin set-up (as well as the performance implications that has for the decay of the sound, which becomes very much quicker), Seiler and van Immerseel create a sense of freshness and youth in all these sonatas that is seldom heard in recordings of them but which is nevertheless a chamber-music feeling that always seems to sit most comfortably with them. But, most happily, the combination of all these elements brings the listener closer to a more open, contented Beethoven – a rare and poignant perspective.