Kalliwoda makes infrequent appearances on disc. I cannot find any mention in the Gramophone archives of these three overtures and two concertinos, but doubtless they have been recorded previously. If not, they should have been. Kalliwoda, while not scaling the heights, is rather good on his own terms, terms which were noted first in 1826 when his Symphony No 1 was premiered in Leipzig. The 25-year-old composer was praised for not ‘trying to be something he is not’ (ie Beethoven) but for ‘pursuing his own path simply and properly’.

The overtures here are just three of the 24 Kalliwoda produced between 1818 and 1864. None has an extramusical subject, designed merely to provide an attention-grabbing opening to a concert. This they achieve admirably. No 3 in C major (1835), with its glimpses of Weber’s influence, lasts a mere 4'31"; longer (and highly praised by Schumann), No 7 in C minor (1838), like No 10 in F minor (1842), has more than a hint of Mendelssohn about it. Any of the three would make an effective curtain-raiser in the Royal Festival Hall or Musikverein.

The two concertinos are full of life, with attractive but not particularly memorable themes, and imaginatively orchestrated. There are echoes of Rode, a sprinkling of Paganini and a strong flavouring of Spohr (if you like his Concerto No 8 ‘in modo di scena cantante’, you’ll enjoy Kalliwoda). The American violinist Ariadne Daskalakis negotiates the considerable technical demands of the music efficiently and accurately – I won’t say with ease. Beyond that she rarely ventures, with a limited dynamic range and a colourless tone. The music is light, undemanding and showy. It needs to be projected with more debonair swagger, the same panache, in fact, with which Willens and the Kölner Akademie play.