When the 28-year-old Mendelssohn composed his three Op 44 string quartets during 1837-38, life was going exceedingly well. In his private life, 1837 was the year he married and 1838 the birth year of his first son (incidentally the day after he completed Op 44 No 3 in E flat). Professionally, meanwhile, he was two years into his post as conductor of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra and fresh from the success of his 1836 oratorio St Paul. So perhaps no wonder that both of those happy contexts are audible in the quartets, and if you zero in on the two presented here by the Minguets on this third instalment of their Mendelssohn cycle, then you’re most palpably hearing it in the utter joyous exuberance of Op 44 No 1 in D (actually the one he composed last, but subsequently positioned first). Also, though, in both works’ prominent first violin part, because the violinist Mendelssohn had in mind was none other than his friend Ferdinand David, concertmaster of the Gewandhaus and later the dedicatee of the Violin Concerto in E minor.

Certainly the Minguets have nailed that nothing-can-stop-me-now vibe from the outset, the inner parts’ opening tremolo coming as a headily excited, fast-vibrato’d, luminous-toned explosion, on to which first violinist Ulrich Isfort whooshes rapturously up his opening flourish; then onwards with corresponding passion, making much of the movement’s dynamic contrasts. It’s bold, hot-blooded stuff; and combined with an exceptionally ambient recording acoustic, you’re hearing considerably less air between the notes than from, say, the Emersons or Artemis (or the Juilliard, to go further back, downloadable on Sony). It’s something I also notice strongly in moments such as in the E minor first movement, where at times the lower parts meld into just a swirl of sound. Things can also get a bit shrill, especially in the higher registers, the D major finale being a case in point.

But now I’m feeling wretchedly guilty. So let me also say that the middle section of the D major’s Minuet is thoroughly beguiling, followed by some lovely interplay between the parts in a lovingly rendered Andante. Also that there’s an infectious rhythmic impetus to the E minor’s brilliant Scherzo; and that when I’m hearing so many crisp edges within the wash, I suspect there’s a degree to which my issues can be laid at the door of the acoustic. Essentially though, this recording isn’t about to supplant any of my previous Mendelssohn Op 44 destinations.