Don’t be put off by the rather “gruff” style of this album’s first piece, Ori, from Swiss composer Jean-Luc Darbellay, played here by Olivier Darbellay on the horn, and on the violin, Noëlle-Anne… yes, you guessed it: Darbellay, a great family business, even if the work itself only runs to just ten minutes of intensity and musical experimentation. The mixture of the horn and the solo violin has its own charms, and Darbellay clearly knows what he is about. The album continues with some all-too-rare pieces from Koechlin, namely the Four short pieces for piano, violin and horn (played here by pianist Benjamin Engeli who is himself not a Darbellay), written between 1894 and 1907. There follow the Lunules électriques, for horn and violin, with Stefan Wirth, who is every bit as Helvetian as the other artists on this album. Electric? Lunula? This probably doesn’t refer to the half-moon at the base of the fingernail, nor to the Bronze Age jewellery of the British Isles – the local Celts hadn’t invented electricity back then, after all. Perhaps it refers to the Calophasia lunula moth, caught in a bug zapper? The album borrows its name from Lucretius, who, in his De Rerum Natura speaks of “ardent constellations”. But by any name, the album closes beautifully with Brahm’s Trio for horn, violin and piano which Darbellay, Darbellay and Engeli play with great conviction and spirit.