Gregor Piatigorsky thought that Luigi Boccherini must have been the greatest cellist who ever lived, and Steven Isserlis (who cites that appraisal in his booklet notes) doesn’t demur. There can be something tacky about chamber music projects with a big-name soloist attached – superstar egos rarely sit well in a conversation of equals – but with Boccherini’s quintets it’s wholly appropriate. The upper cello parts are gleefully soloistic; a certain concertante quality is baked in.

Isserlis plays ravishingly throughout this recital. His tone is as luminous at the bottom as it is up top (and Boccherini spends a lot of time in the stratosphere). Although he’s partnered in the concertos by members of the OAE, Isserlis is no slave to scholarship: there’s plenty of vibrato in the solo line, and the result is wonderfully engaging. Light and shade, meanwhile, are always sharply etched (listen to the opening of the C minor Sonata in particular), but what a wealth of colour and expression lies between! Singing lines are expressive, dance rhythms are balletic, and Isserlis sculpts Boccherini’s roulades and curlicues like a sonic Grinling Gibbons.

This is elegant playing, for sure, but it has an irresistible glint in its eye. Isserlis finds a near-ideal tension between lyricism and effervescence, and in the finale of the D major Concerto, in particular, his rhythmic freedom between the beats makes the music almost seem to swing. If you already love Boccherini, you’ll be more convinced than ever that he’s a master. If you’re a sceptic: well, prepare to be seduced. Either way, this is a lovely disc; and the encore – the famous Ladykillers Minuet, deliciously played – will be lilting around your head for weeks to come.