The former BBC Young Musician of the Year brings his 1706 Ruggeri cello to an intelligent programme that ignores fashion.

With CD labels owned by the conglomerates, sometimes you can’t hear the music for the hype, the glitz, the parade of celebrity. What a relief, then, to find an artist displaying his art on a small independent label, Orchid Classics, with repertoire selected after abundant musical thought and with little thought to the noise of fashion.

Ten years ago the cellist Guy Johnston won through to become BBC Young Musician of the Year. He hasn’t been hiding in a cave since then. But neither has world fame hit him on the head to dent his gifts. He is just very, very good. So is his instrument, a 1706 Ruggeri cello, which soars through this all-British programme with a beautiful treble beauty and a throbbing, velvet lower register. The pianist in Johnston’s first CD recital is Kathryn Stott, sometimes too commanding a presence for everyone’s good, but not here.

The intelligent programme spans almost 100 years, tracing connections between different generations of teachers, pupils and friends. Pieces by Britten’s teacher Frank Bridge from the 1910s lead us to Britten’s Cello Sonata of 1961, inspired by the passionate personality of the Russian cellist Mstislav Rostropovich. Threading through these items comes music by Mark-Anthony Turnage, concluding with Milo, a greeting prelude for Turnage’s recently born son, played at his baptism by Johnston himself, Milo’s godfather and a family friend.

None of these leaps in time disconcerts. Portions of Turnage’s lullaby set Sleep On might possibly wake a baby up rather than induce slumber, yet the composer always stays close to British traditions, especially as reflected in the music of Britten.

The CD’s other connecting thread is the heartfelt passion of Johnston’s cello. There’s a glow and flourish about everything he plays, from the progressive romanticism of Bridge’s D minor Sonata to Turnage’s contemporary cries and whispers. Best of all, there’s the Britten Sonata — mercurial, open-hearted music. Johnston and Stott pitch in with tremendous vigour, vividly colouring its changing soundscapes.

The recording gives the players equal weight in the sound balance, but they never fight or tread on each other’s toes. Stott’s panache on this heartening disc matches Johnston’s: you can tell these musicians are having a ball. Once they’re sitting comfortably and thoughtfully, listeners should be having one too.

Geoff Brown