This album opens with a guitar transcription of an 1892 piece by Isaac Albéniz, a movement from his Suite española, Op. 47, one of the definitive works of modern Spanish art music. The piece is titled ‘Asturias’, but rather than reflecting the indigenous Celtic sounds of that Spanish region, it draws on the flamenco tradition from the opposite end of the country. It is a staple of classical guitar repertoire, and is apparently the piece that sparked Karadaglic’s interest in the guitar. The contradiction between its ostensible northern subject, and its fiery southern materials, is a useful place to start in attempting to describe Mediterraneo.

This is an album of cool precision: this is not to say that it lacks passion, but it is imbued with, as Miles Davis said of Bill Evans, a ‘quiet fire’, eschewing the conventional melodrama with which much of its material is frequently performed. Karadaglic is setting out his stall here: he is showing us, with his debut for Deutsche Grammophon, that he has the prodigious technique and control that is expected among the top flight of classical guitarists; this being the case, we can’t hope to hear him sacrificing exactitude for expression, like a Daniel Barenboim, eliding and replacing notes as he wrings his version of the piece from material that is put to his artistic purposes. These are respectful interpretations, intended to demonstrate Karadaglic’s worth as a vehicle for a repertoire that is younger, and hence more fragile, than most in the classical world.

Small though the guitar’s repertoire may be in comparison to other instruments, it is still large enough to require some selectivity in programming a debut of this type. This release is plainly intended by Deutsche Grammophon to establish Karadaglic as a new rising star, and it takes few risks. The majority of the material comes from the solid core of the modern guitar tradition, but it also seeks to represent his distinctiveness and personal voice as a Montenegran, by visiting the oriental end of the Mediterranean, in Domeniconi’s Turkish derived Koyunbaba, and two pieces from Greek soundtrack/ popular composer Mikis Theodorakis.

Perhaps on future albums Karadaglic will have the clout to select a more adventurous (and more thematically coherent) programme; perhaps as well his voice as a player will be more distinctive and pronounced. For now, I wouldn’t say that he lacks a voice, but his personality is that of an interpreter still principally concerned to avoid fucking up the tradition, rather than with a clear agenda of his own. This music is all of the dramatically gestural sort typified by flamenco, including that with its origins in the east, and it is played with feeling, as we would expect from someone at Karadaglic’s stage of development, but it is curiously reserved. It makes for pleasant listening, and this guitarist is clearly a prodigious talent, who is likely to have a seat at the classical guitar’s top table, but as an artistic statement, Mediterraneo is, for me, while beautiful, disappointingly conservative.