Unaccompanied violin music relies for its effect on a player whose approach to the instrument treats athleticism and acute tonal shading as priorities. Like solo Bach, Ysaÿe’s Six Solo Violin Sonatas keep on delivering, and there can be little doubt in my mind that Hilary Hahn’s new DG set of them is among her finest achievements on record. For the First – and longest – of the sonatas (in G minor, dedicated to the great Hungarian violinist Joseph Szigeti), Hahn employs a characteristically vibrant tone, then crafts an expressive diminuendo before rising again, careering through the music as if it had just occurred to her. Interesting that in her note she claims that ‘the Ysaÿe sonatas had somehow become as natural to me as if I myself had composed them’. That is exactly what her performances sound like.

Hahn meticulously observes Ysaÿe’s markings throughout, to the most magical effect towards the close of the First Sonata’s first movement, where for the penultimate seven bars an icy tremolando holds sway, landing, perhaps unexpectedly, on a pianissimo chord as the final trump. In the fugato that follows, Hahn varies colours and dynamics according to the dictates of musical line and harmony, her vibrato warmly expressive, the gist of her message private rumination, recalling Bach without imitating him. Arpeggios roll like waves reaching back to the shoreline, and for the movement’s fff lento closing bars Hahn signs off with an emphatic ‘goodbye’. For the Allegretto poco scherzoso third movement she is mindful of the amabile (tender, gentle) marking, while for the Con brio finale an ease of passage is again in evidence, with never a hint of virtuosity for its own sake.

The Second Sonata (for the French violinist Jacques Thibaud) presents a piano leggiero statement of the opening salvo from Bach’s Third Violin Partita, followed by a fortissimo brutalement response. Thereafter joyful Bach faces a teeth-baring enactment of the Dies irae chant, beauty versus devilment plying a wicked message, you might say. The brief Malinconia movement that follows is like a mournful lullaby, ending with the Dies irae. That chant also forms the pizzicato entrance point to the following theme-and-variations: ‘Danse des ombres’, resembling a condensed Bach partita. The movement continues arco with double-stops, then come the variations (note the bass drone at 1'12") with a waywardly wandering tranquillo dolce (2'22"). To close, a jagged, heavily accented ‘Les Furies’ finale, with an eerie sul ponticello passage and harmonics. All this Hahn evidently takes in her stride, but it sounds dangerous – as it should.

The Third Sonata, Ballade, written for the composer, violinist and conductor George Enescu, is the most impassioned of the set. It opens rather in the manner of Korngold, reaching a passage marked Molto moderato quasi lento before storming off among arpeggios and double-stops. Enescu’s fiery temperament and innate musicality are vividly evoked. The end is a furious tour de force and Hahn plays it magnificently.

The Fourth Sonata was written for, and vividly evokes, the Austrian‑born American violinist and composer Fritz Kreisler. The Lento maestoso opening is firm and full-toned, as it might have sounded if Kreisler himself were playing it. The finale is like a Kreislerian caprice – Hahn gets the connection – in the lyrical middle section especially. Again, this is immaculate yet characterful playing.

The Belgian violinist Mathieu Crickboom is the dedicatee of the Fifth Sonata, its first movement, ‘L’aurore’, marked Lento assai, the most musically inventive in the set, where for some of the time Hahn temporarily puts her vibrato on hold. The second movement is a rustic dance (Allegro giocoso molto moderato), which switches to molto amabile (with left hand pizzicatos at 4'04") and ends among swirling dervishes as if electrically charged.

The beginning of the Sixth Sonata (for Manuel Quiroga), the most Paganini-like music in the set, initially witnesses more toughness from Hahn (quite Heifetzian this time), though things calm later when Ysaÿe floats us away on a gentler habanera (3'51").

All in all, Hilary Hahn treats us to a recording of the Ysaÿe Sonatas that will be difficult to equal, let alone surpass – and that’s not forgetting the varying virtues of versions by Thomas Zehetmair, Leonidas Kavakos, Alina Ibragimova, Julia Fischer, Philippe Graffin, Daniel Matejča, James Ehnes (especially good) and others. All have earned themselves a place among Ysaÿe’s best modern-day interpreters. But Hilary Hahn’s unique qualities – her rich, pulsing tone, her technical mastery, her unabashed confidence, her imagination and her ability to present the music as fresh-minted (she seems to have located a hotline to Ysaÿe’s muse) – inclines me towards her recording as the finest currently available. It’s a wonderful release, extremely well recorded.