No excuses now for keeping the best of Enescu’s orchestral output at arm’s length, with two well-filled double packs offering his most memorable work in convincing performances under the baton of one his most persuasive interpreters. At first glance it might look as if all the EMI material is reissued (the first two symphonies were long available here on a single disc), but in fact the Third Symphony and Vox maris were recorded as recently as last September.

The first two symphonies enjoy the ample acoustic of Monte Carlo’s Salle Garnier, the radiant First full of filigree detail and shimmering instrumentation, sometimes redolent of Brahms (the beginning of the finale), sometimes of Elgar in his First Symphony. Enescu’s liking for long-breathed melodic lines and discursive developments does not preclude a sense of form, while his piquant use of solo instruments – woodwinds and strings in particular – helps keep the canvas alive from various perspectives.

The First Symphony (1905) is the most luminously scored and texturally uncomplicated of the three and, like its successors, has a Franckian three-movement structure. The Second (1914), much admired by Yehudi Menuhin, who once conducted it in Bucharest, is an altogether more opulent piece which opens in the manner of Mendelssohn’s Italian, though before the first minute is up, soaring high string lines fly off more in the direction of Richard Strauss. The slow movement is supple and evocative, and the finale (with its prominent use of piano) opens to martial strains before embarking on a busy scenic route towards its triumphant close – and if you want to sample Enescu’s muse at her most lushly seductive, beam in at around 3’34”.

Still, if asked to name the finest of the three symphonies I’d probably opt for the Third (1918) which, like Scriabin’s Third (completed 14 years earlier), employs a chorus and flirts with visions of Paradise. Here, the Scherzo – one of Enescu’s darkest essays – is placed second, while the finale ends in a mood of sublime peacefulness. This excellent new recording with the Lyon National Orchestra and Les Eléments Chamber Choir is drier in sound and more forwardly balanced than the Monte Carlo sessions, the performance livelier and better drilled than Rozhdestvensky’s Chandos recording with the BBC Philharmonic. Compare the two at the start of the second movement and you’ll soon hear what I mean. Foster’s Third is also generally better played than that of his Romanian rivals, the best probably being Horia Andreescu.

On the tail of the Third Symphony comes the amazing Vox maris, originally sketched in the 1920s but orchestrated in fits and starts later on, and not actually performed until 1964. There is a narrative of sorts: a sailor caught in the eye of a storm drowns, and in the wake of his death we hear the song of the Sirens. The storm itself is more dramatically handled on Cristian Mandeal’s recording (Mandeal also employs a more convincing wind machine) but Foster is fully Mandeal’s equal in the disorienting final section, with its many disembodied sounds – hissing cymbals, solo violin, timpani, harp, and so on – desolate and deathly quiet.

Foster’s only ‘historic’ rival in the symphonies is a long-unavailable 1942 version of the First under George Georgescu (last on Lys), who also conducted a fabulous pairing of the two early Romanian Rhapsodies (transferred onto the same Lys CD). Foster’s versions of the Rhapsodies for Erato (Apex) are pretty good, although the Palais des Congrès provides a less flattering acoustic than the Salle Garnier (EMI). The more lyrical Second Rhapsody suits Foster better than the rumbustious First, while the expansive Romanian Poem – such an assured and original piece for a 16-year-old – has plenty of colour. Here Mandeal’s Romanian players dig into the shifting-tempo ‘festivities’ with a touch more zeal, but either version will convey the gist of a remarkable piece.

The three Suites stand in relation to the symphonies rather as Tchaikovsky’s Suites relate to his symphonic works. The First opens with a striking prelude for strings in unison which in turn gives way to a gorgeous Menuet lent. The more formal Second Suite (which falls between the First and Second Symphonies) is based on Baroque models, while the relatively ‘late’ Third Suite, named Villageoise (it dates from 1938), overflows with invention, whether imitations of birdsong and children at play, or exquisite tone-painting of nature by day and night. Foster also offers us the early, 23-minute Symphonie concertante for cello and orchestra, his soloist Franco Maggio-Ormezowski unfolding its generous stream of melody with a warm, fluid tone.

Summing up, Lawrence Foster’s performances of these fascinating if occasionally over-effusive works provide a fitting tribute for the 50th anniversary of Enescu’s death. Andreescu and Mandeal also stand the test of time though Foster’s players have the edge, and his recordings – certainly those for EMI – are a cut above Olympia’s and Arte Nova’s. But whichever versions you settle for, do give this music a try. It combines the freshness of Dvorák with the earth-and-spirit daring of Bartók; and while not quite on a level with either, it comes pretty damned close.