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In the best hands Jules Delsart’s authorised 1887 transcription of Franck’s Violin Sonata scales the peaks, the cello bringing reflective warmth and ground weight to proceedings. Unsurprisingly, Capuçon wears his heart on his sleeve. The emotions are big, the projection sonorously forward, the paragraphing expansive, every urge, climax and aftermath tensioned. Free of concert stage and bright lights for three days, Yuja Wang proves seriously hard-working – listening, blending, dramatising, engaged self-critically in touching art. Possibly passages of the second and fourth movements could breathe more. But there’s no missing the music’s radiance and epithalamium message.

Sonically cushioned more than chiselled, the opening Allegro of the Chopin proves an arresting fusion of symphonic momentum and poetic imagery, a cultured display of two supreme players at the top of their game. The Scherzo glitters. The Largo is a song of unadorned beauty. The Finale proposes a fiery defiance of the terminal ill health the composer found himself in by the mid-1840s.

Of the two dance offerings, the Op 3 Polonaise canters aristocratically. Piazzolla’s Le Grand Tango, written for Rostropovich, spins a melded seduction, as much about mood as limbs. Scintillating stuff, Capuçon and Wang in smiling encore overdrive.

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