French composers had taken little interest in the cello until the 1870s when three wonderful masterpieces were written. Orchestre National de Lyon led by Emmanuel Krivine accompanies the magnificent, Anne Gastinel in performances of cello works by Saint-Saëns, Lalo and Fauré. The vigour, elegance and charm of Saint-Saëns, the expressiveness, imagination and exotic touch of Lalo, the humanity, feeling and depth of Fauré: these three works sum up the spirit of French music.

This release by Norwegian cellist Jonathan Aasgaard (the principal cellist of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra) and British pianist Martin Roscoe purports to be a complete recording of Brahms' music for cello and piano. In fact it's padded with quite a few other things that have little or nothing to do with Brahms other than the fact that he composed the original music.

Cellist Ophélie Gaillard and Pulcinella Orchestra focus on Luigi Boccherini, Italian composer and first virtuoso cellist in history. Born in the Tuscany, Boccherini then went to the Court of Prussa and Spain. His musical education looks like a journey around Europe, as it used to be. Long eclipsed by the violin, star of the string instruments, the cello slowly fit in the eighteenth century repertoire thanks to composers who played the instrument themselves. The now famous Suites of Johan Sebastian Bach are the first master pieces composed for the cello. Then Luigi Boccherini strengthened its place in the musical creation, thus becoming to cello what Vivaldi was to the violin one generation earlier.

Those elusive qualities of ‘transcendental beauty paired with an enchanting simplicity’, eloquently glossed by Alban Gerhardt in his booklet note, might also be said to characterize his playing in this outstanding new recording.

Finnish cellist Max Lilja, one of the founders of Apocalyptica, takes us on an immersive journey across Johann Sebastian Bach’s life; through merging the iconic Cello Suites with an ambient composition, Lilja enlightens the space around the solitary voice.

This disc strikes me as an ideal introduction to the music of Turkey’s greatest composer. Ahmed Adnan Saygun’s style might be described as “Szymanowski with a primal rhythmic feel.” If you love the composer’s First Violin Concerto then you will find here a very similar exoticism, nocturnal atmosphere, and love of voluptuous textures. The harmonic style is intensely chromatic, but also highly melodic. Like Bartók in his last period, Saygun’s handling of tonality mellowed toward the end of his life, which makes the Cello Concerto more consonant than the Viola Concerto, but both works are absolutely gorgeous and masterpieces of their kind. It’s positively criminal that no one plays these pieces regularly in concert. The performances here are excellent. Tim Hugh is a well-known cellist, and he pours on the tone with all of the rhapsodic abandon that Saygun requires. Mirjam Tschopp also is a superb violist, with a big, beefy tone that never gets swamped by the intricate orchestration. It’s also very rewarding to hear a Turkish orchestra in this music–and to find that it plays beautifully under Howard Griffiths.

Pablo Casals was once the greatest living cellist. His technique was formidable, his tone was magisterial, and his interpretations were sovereign. In the '20s and '30s, Casals was a charismatic virtuoso on the same level as Kreisler and Horowitz. Those days were over by the time he recorded Beethoven's works for cello and piano with the superb Rudolf Serkin in 1954. His formidable technique had irrevocably decayed: in the fast passages and movements, Casals could barely keep up and he dropped notes like a tree drops leaves in a late autumn rain. His magisterial tone has deteriorated: in the slow passages and movements, Casals groaned and growled like boughs and branches in a hard autumn wind.

Jean-Baptiste Joseph Masse (c.1700s-c.1757) Ordinaire de la Chambre du Roi and member of the King's Bande of Twenty-Four Violins, as well as member of the orchestra of Comédie Française, was a French composer and violoncellist in the court of Louis XV. He published five volumes of sonatas. Books I, II and V are for two cellos and basso continuo. Books III and IV are for two cellos without a figured bass.

Jean-Baptiste Joseph Masse (c.1700s-c.1757) Ordinaire de la Chambre du Roi and member of the King's Bande of Twenty-Four Violins, as well as member of the orchestra of Comédie Française, was a French composer and violoncellist in the court of Louis XV. He published five volumes of sonatas. Books I, II and V are for two cellos and basso continuo. Books III and IV are for two cellos without a figured bass.

Sol Gabetta’s first recording of the Elgar Cello Concerto, with the Danish National Symphony, was much admired when it appeared six years ago. This one, taken from a concert in the Baden-Baden Festspielhaus in 2014, is a far glossier affair orchestrally. Simon Rattle’s tendency to overmould the phrasing is sometimes too obvious, but Gabetta’s playing is intense and searching, less introspective than some performances in the Adagio, perhaps, but epic in scale in the outer movements, and always keenly responsive. Those who possess her earlier disc might not think they need to invest in this one, but would then miss Gabetta’s vivid, pulsating account of the Martinů concerto, which went through a quarter of a century of revisions before the definitive 1955 version she plays here, with Krysztof Urbański conducting. She finds real depth and intensity in it, both in the slow movement and in the introspective episode that interrupts the finale’s headlong rush.

The very short list of credits on this Warner Classics release includes Russian American cellist Nina Kotova and producer Adam Abeshouse, who delivers a very closely miked sound in the frequently used Performing Arts Recital Hall of Purchase College on Long Island, New York. But perhaps the uncredited star on this set of Bach's Six Suites for solo cello is Kotova's 1679 Stradivarius instrument, which Kotova exploits to the maximum.

Sony Classical's Great Performances Series has scored yet another winner with its coupling of Shostakovich's Symphony No. 1 and the First Cello Concerto. Previously released individually, the close proximity in the recording dates of these two works (1959 and 1960) makes them a natural choice for a pairing. Continuing in the Philadelphia Orchestra tradition, the performance of the Symphony No. 1 follows the 1928 United States premiere of the work, given by the same orchestra and conducted by Ormandy's predecessor, Leopold Stokowski. Inherited from him is the notably lush sound of Philadelphia's lower strings, which capture the essence of Shostakovich's weighty harmonies.