Some expected Norrington attributes (uncluttered textures, minimal vibrato, etc) help focus the bare essentials of both masterpieces, the Seventh emerging as mellow but austere, the Eighth as a breezy ‘dance symphony’ in all but name. The Seventh’s potentially windblown outer movements ebb and flow much as they should, with heightened dynamics serving this or that aspect of the argument (ie, at the animated passage from 6'21" into the first movement). The first movement’s development is securely projected, even though as given the overall climate is relatively temperate, and the Poco adagio second movement is lyrically moulded. Prominent middle and lower voices helpfully underpin the violin melody at the start of the Scherzo and the finale’s second set wears an amiable demeanour, as does most of the Eighth Symphony, the opening chorale played by lower woodwinds, horns, trombones and lower strings and here sounding both sombre and reassuring.

I sometimes wondered whether the Stuttgart violins were stinting a little on fortissimo ‘attack’ (Fischer’s lusty Budapesters go more willingly for the jugular) but the third movement is sheer perfection, always warm and luminous, especially the bass-line at the start of both the outer section and the Trio, and the chattering coda. Also, the finale’s achingly nostalgic last pages (an ingenious sequence of short episodes repeated exactly bar for bar) has Norrington cue Dvorák to bid us the gentlest of farewells, and the effect is entrancing. Comparisons abound, with Iván Fischer sweetening the line with copious portamentos and Nikolaus Harnoncourt offering a refresher course in how to listen beneath the top line. But Norrington definitely stacks up, and if you accept the principles that underline his approach, I wouldn’t hesitate, especially as the sound quality is extremely good.