Recording Bach's six Cello Suites realized Emmanuelle Bertrand's most cherished dream. Her performance here features an exceptional instrument, built by Carlo Tononi in Venice in 1730. This cello, with it's deep and powerful sound, has been set up in 'Baroque' style (with gut strings and bow to match). In Bertrand's hands it proves to be the perfect choice for tackling one of the most impressive monuments in all western music.

HK Gruber (b.1943) is one of the more refreshing of contemporary composers. His music is widely performed today, but since it takes time to become a household name many people have yet to make his acquaintance. Some background material is thus in order. This is how he presents himself on the Internet: 'Composer, conductor, chansionnier and double bass player HK Gruber (Vienna, 1943), is one of the most well-known and well-loved figures on the contemporary music scene, and yet he remains something of an enigma.

Barbirolli made later recordings of all the works on this CD and these have become cornerstones of the catalogue. These are earlier recordings that he did with his own orchestra, the Halle, in the 1950s. To start with, the recording quality is pretty amazing. They were recorded on 35mm film tape rather than half inch recording tape by the Mercury team and have astonishing immediacy and amazingly lifelike. Barbirolli uses an organ in the finale of the Enigma Variations. The recording is a little bass heavy but this is a small caveat. For people who consider Barbirolli to be a bit indulgent as a conductor, these recordings may come as a surprise. The performances are very direct and nicely flowing. They therefore complement rather than compete with the later recordings. Of course, Barbirolli's later recording of the Cello Concerto with Jacqueline du Pre is a very famous and special rendition of the work. However, it is not without its detractors. Andre Navarra, by contrast, plays with golden tone. He plays gorgeously. Highly recommended.

Making her debut on Decca, Alisa Weilerstein presents three major works of the cello repertoire with Daniel Barenboim leading the Staatskapelle Berlin. The star vehicle, naturally, is Edward Elgar's Concerto in E minor, which Weilerstein plays with commanding presence, rich tone, and emotional depth. Most listeners will be drawn primarily to this performance because of the piece's familiarity, and Weilerstein's charisma and passionate playing make it the album's main attraction. Yet listeners should give Weilerstein and Barenboim credit for following the Elgar with an important if not instantly recognizable or approachable modernist work, Elliott Carter's powerful Cello Concerto. Weilerstein is quite bold to play this intensely dramatic and angular composition, and while it's unlikely to appeal to the majority of fans who adore the Elgar, it deserves its place on the program for its seriousness and extraordinary displays of solo and orchestral writing. To close, Weilerstein plays Max Bruch's Kol Nidrei, a Romantic work that returns the program to a mellow and melancholy mood and brings the CD to a satisfying close. Decca's reproduction is excellent, putting Weilerstein front and center with full resonance, but not leaving the vibrant accompaniment of the orchestra too far behind her.

Cellist Marko Ylönen has recorded a beautiful double album containing Bach’s six suites for solo cello. On the album, Ylönen wants to emphasize the way in which the different series work together in a dialogue. That is why he does not play them in their numerical order, but creates an experience that takes the listener from the world of passion in the fifth series to the joyful tones of the last sixth series. The clear musical structure and the affect of the musical characters and gestures combine in Ylönen’s performance. His interpretation of the Bach suites tells the listener something invaluable, touching and timeless.

Cellist Joan Jeanrenaud spent more than twenty years as a member of the experimental and always innovative Kronos Quartet. She left the group in 1999, and has since created an adventurous and captivating body work, including four previous CD releases, including the Grammy-nominated Strange Toys ( Talking House Records, 2008) and 2010's Pop-Pop (Deconet Records), in collaboration with percussionist/multi-instrumentalist PC Munoz.

The young Argentine cellist Sol Gabetta has emerged at the top of the heap with some speed in the 2010s. She merits the double greatest-hits album represented by this release, and it will be welcomed by listeners who haven't quite focused on her meteoric career. You get only one full-scale concerto, but it's a good one: Gabetta has a real way with Elgar, and the compilers did well to feature his music on most of disc one. You get the fresh interpretations of repertory recital and encore pieces that have really endeared Gabetta to ordinary concertgoers. Sample the marvelous Fauré Pavane, Op. 50, an excellent example of how with Gabetta, less is often more.

Sol Gabetta has established herself as one of the most promising cellists to emerge in the first decade of the 21st century, with a substantial international career as a soloist and with a growing number of recordings. While she has drawn most attention for her performances of the standard concerto and chamber music repertoire, she has also championed contemporary works by composers as diverse as Takemitsu, Ligeti, Gubaidulina, Rihm, and Vasks.

This debut album opens with cellist Taeguk Mun - winner of the 2014 Pablo Casals International Cello Competition and the 2016 János Starker Foundation Award - playing Bach's Suite for Solo Cello No 1. He is then joined by the pianist Chi Ho Han, another multi-award-winning musician from South Korea, for Beethoven's Sonata for Cello and Piano in A Major and short pieces by Schumann, Schubert, Rubinstein and Pablo Casals.

The personal story of the cello played braced against the shoulder (violoncello da spalla) began when Sergey Malov first listened to a vinyl recording of Bach's cello suites played by the legendary Pablo Casals from his father's collection. Later on, when listening to the recordings he could not get rid of the feeling that this light and dancing music does not fit that well with such a heavy big instrument as a cello. Although perhaps he just wanted to play these amazing pieces himself. Malov was dreaming about playing them authentically. He had no idea though what that authentic way was or how he could place such a huge bass instrument on his shoulder.

Alexander Ivashkin’s bold, confident cello-playing is the thread running through these works; he partners the organist Malcolm Hicks in the 1979 In croce, plays the Ten Preludes for the solo instrument from 1979, and leads a quartet of cellos in the remarkable Quaternion. Though many of Sofia Gubaidulina’s works have a religious dimension, In croce does not, despite its title; ‘On the cross’ refers to the way in which the two instruments exchange roles during the work, the cello beginning with microtones in the lowest register and gradually rising to a high diatonic end, while the organ starts off high in a pure A major and descends to the depths to a cluster that gradually collapses when the instrument’s blower is turned off. Though the Ten Preludes stretch the player’s capabilities to the maximum, they remain more or less within the conventional resources of the instrument. But Quaternion creates a whole new, ethereal, sound-world in which the cellos are tuned in pairs a quarter-tone apart, the players wear thimbles on their fingers in one section, and the music is persistently coloured by harmonics.

In the '80s there were those listeners who thought that Heinrich Schiff might redeem cello performance practice from fatal beauty and lethal elegance. Aside from the burly and brawny Rostropovich, more and more cellists were advocating a performance style whose ideals were perfect intonation and graceful phrasing. In some repertoire, say, Fauré, these are perfectly legitimate goals. In other repertoire, Beethoven and Brahms, say, it is a terrible mistake. In Bach's Cello Suites, as the fay and fragile Yo-Yo Ma recordings make clear, it was a terminal mistake. Not so in Schiff's magnificently muscular 1984 recordings of the suites: Schiff's rhythms, his tempos, his tone, his intonation, and especially his interpretations were anything but fay or fragile. In Schiff's performance, Bach's Cello Suites are not the neurasthenic music of a composer supine with dread and despair in the dark midnight of the soul, but the forceful music of a mature composer in full control of himself and his music.