Haydn symphony cycles on disc have had an uneasy history, one that has often been pregnant with expectation but littered with disappointments. It was not until 1973 that the first widely available cycle of all 104 numbered symphonies (plus extras) was completed. This came about via the alignment of a determined conductor, a group of Hungarian musicians exiled in Austria and a major record label. These recordings, by the Philharmonia Hungarica under Antal Dorati, became a notable money-spinner for Decca.

Prior to this, the earliest effort to lay down a complete recording came early in the 1960s, when Max Goberman managed to issue 45 symphonies with the Vienna State Opera Orchestra on his own Library of Recorded Masterpieces label (reissued on Sony Classical, 4/15). This came to a sudden full stop with Goberman’s death at the age of only 51 in 1962, and that would have appeared to be it for Haydn until Dorati came along – but in fact he was pipped to the post by Ernst Maerzendorfer and the Vienna Chamber Orchestra. It was only the fact that Maerzendorfer’s cycle appeared on Musical Heritage Society, a limited-circulation American record-club label, that led music lovers for decades to assume that Dorati’s was the pioneering project, a mistaken assumption that Decca never promoted but also never went to any pains to correct.

So what happened to Maerzendorfer’s set? It achieved some distribution in Europe – albeit severely limited – and was even advertised in Gramophone in November 1972, although only the eagle-eyed are likely to have spotted its listing in the corner of the full-page offering. The Oryx company, which brought the 49-LP set over the Atlantic, subsequently fizzled out without fanfare. That seemed to be that for Maerzendorfer’s Haydn: the mastertapes have long since disappeared, leaving the vinyl discs to be eagerly sought out by collectors. The only availability these recordings have achieved in the digital age has been through the auspices of the haydnhouse.com website, which offers them all relatively cheaply as fair-quality MP3s, mastered from LPs of variable condition. Only now, half a century or more later, have they appeared on a commercial set of 33 CDs, which can be found online for well under £80. At last these enigmatic recordings are available in a compact, convenient and economical format.

There is no documentation bar track-listings on each disc packet, along with the occasional identification of soloists and the recording copyright date of 1969 72. A small panel on the side of the box acknowledges that the recordings are ‘Digitally remastered from vinyl. Original tapes missing and cannot be found.’ Accordingly, the surfaces as reproduced are pretty variable here as well: some are almost silent, others come with a fair amount of ‘swish’. The recorded sound itself, too, for the most part does not compare with the finest of its vintage, with slightly cold strings and somewhat over prominent upper woodwinds.

The performances, though, are often extremely fine and sometimes revelatory. There is a tautness and discipline to the string-playing and a unanimity of woodwind ensemble and intonation that often eluded Dorati’s (and even, much later, Adám Fischer’s) Austro-Hungarians. The brass display a solidity and assurance, which is all to the good when Haydn takes his horns, for example, up into the eye-watering upper extremes of their tessitura. It is difficult to imagine that Maerzendorfer’s sessions, like Dorati’s, were any more luxurious than simple rehearse-record exercises. Nevertheless, the impression in symphony after symphony is of true engagement, with a pleasing elegance to phrasing and consideration for the character of the music from moment to moment.

You hear this from the very beginning. Unfamiliar as Symphony No 1 must have been, it is played like a repertoire staple, full of drive in the outer movements and repose in the central Andante. At the other end of the scale, the ‘London’ Symphonies (Nos 93 104) lack nothing in impetus, with, for example, a sustained introduction to No 102 that builds to a notable pitch of intensity. The microphones move out a little to accommodate the later, larger symphonies, so you are struck by the presence of the recording when you flick back to a middle-period symphony such as No 42, in a notably alert performance, or No 48, played here with trumpets and timpani rather than Haydn’s original scoring for prominent high horns.

You don’t get the fury that marks more recent performances of some of the Sturm und Drang works such as the Fire (No 59), but that was not the spirit of the age. You do, though, get plenty of vitality in episodes such as the surprise outbreak of counterpoint in the finale of the Laudon (No 69). There’s a gleeful responsiveness to Haydn’s ‘jokes’ in a work such as No 80’s finale and a sense of majesty and brilliance to the likes of Nos 75 and 86. There is consistency, too, with a high degree of adherence to Haydn’s markings, give or take the odd misreading. Get beyond the compromised LP sound and Maerzendorfer takes the listener on a journey through this magnificent symphonic odyssey in which his commitment to every moment is revealing and riveting.