Daniel Barenboim is both the most inspiring and at times the most exasperating of interpretative geniuses. In Bruckner, whole paragraphs pass that are sublimely beautiful, with well-shaped phrases, effortless transitions, near-ideal tempi and climaxes that peak at exactly the right moment. Then, quite out of the blue, something unexpected might happen that catches you off your guard, such as a sudden acceleration, or a slowing down, or a startling crescendo. Were it not for the fact that the context is so often exquisitely judged, these ‘minor’ inconsistencies would be less conspicuous. No doubt he has his reasons; the problem is, they’re not always obvious.

In this particular instance, much of the performance is magical and the tender, warmly cosseting string sound of the Staatskapelle Berlin is of truly vintage quality. The work opens to the quietest of tremolandos and most of the first movement enjoys a palpable tonal glow, with passages of great delicacy for contrast (beam up around 7'04"). At the point where high and low voices alternate (at around the nine-minute mark), Barenboim has his cellos wield a lacerating bow, and the slow movement’s first variation (4'15") could hardly be lovelier: the ebb and flow of the phrasing, its flexibility and sense of movement, the way inner voices are coaxed to the fore, these and other details make for a remarkably beautiful effect, though an occasional tendency to push the tempo will worry some listeners more than others.

Initially I wasn’t quite sure about the way Barenboim accentuates the contours of the Adagio’s climaxing main theme (from 15'28"), but the (percussion-topped) peroration itself is shattering. The Scherzo is suitably rustic and only in the finale do some of Barenboim’s tempo changes verge on sounding wilful: the chorale theme, for example, is a little slow in relation with the outer sections, and certainly the ‘pompous’ caricature of the opening theme at 6'28" is very slow, though the tempo does soon pick up. Of course these and other points of interpretation will hardly prove cause for widespread concern and, viewed overall, this is an emotionally generous, spontaneous and outstandingly communicative account of the Seventh, I’d say the best that Barenboim has yet given us. For those who worry about such things, the end of the finale is tailed by some enthusiastic applause.