One tangible observation from the booklet note is that Tommie Haglund’s Flaminis Aura (2001/04) takes its structural inspiration from the Adagio of Bruckner’s Ninth Symphony. Truly this music sounds like Bruckner from a faraway planet, transitioning constantly back in the direction of its most recent thought before moving to new paragraphs that don’t tread on their predecessors’ toes. A Baltic spirituality is keenly felt in this piece, whose title refers to the moments immediately before a religious revelation. Afkham and the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra manage the subtle and not-so-subtle shifting of the music’s huge tectonic plates impressively and Ernst Simon Glaser’s cello incantation drifts powerfully in and out of discourse with them until both disappear into electronic noises courtesy of NASA (far more successful than it sounds).

The structures aren’t so well defined or indeed surprising in Serenata per Diotima (2014/15), a string piece with occasional solo violin which doesn’t strive so hard. This is unmistakably music from the north; but here the Baltic accent can feel sprinkled like seasoning rather than deeply felt (as in Flaminis), while to my ears the phrase shapes err towards the awkward and contrived.

The chamber works that separate the orchestral pieces can each be chronologically aligned with their bigger companions. Il regno degli spiriti (2001) is a quartet with the same open-ended feel of Flaminis but the language is altogether more Central European – a strained, dense polyphonic search for truth that is performed by Zilliacus and her companions with muscle and pain. Sorry to say that Haglund in 2000s vintage impresses rather more than his 2010s one. The trio Sollievo (2013) is an evocative piece that once more tells of a blue heart under northern skies and feels deeply personal in its miniature outbursts. But the musical language is altogether less bold and striking than that of Flaminis, however rich and heartfelt the performance.