Talking of ‘far too fast’, here comes Sir Roger Norrington with a characteristic, challenging (and even snook-cocking) approach to Haydn’s ‘Paris’ Symphonies. These have already attracted a fair amount of excoriation online, but repeated listening has revealed some deeper insights that appear to be lost on those who would only cavil at the surprising lick at which he takes the slow movement of La Reine. Yes, perhaps that’s a misfire; but Norrington’s reasoning is sound, even if the result is a little comical.

Norrington’s means and ways are most similar to Thomas Fey’s (Hänssler Classic, 1/11), with a small band playing modern instruments (strings, of course, senza vibrato). The sound is thus naturally far more ‘blended’ than the glorious contrasts highlighted by Antonini (see above) but wind and brass stand in a semicircle around the back of the string group and are thus spotlit as soloists throughout. Norrington has paid minute attention to the shape and direction of phrases, so the simplest of lines leaps from the page as a vital and attention-grabbing element. Even chugging strings of semiquavers in inner voices bulge and throb; and you may be struck by the eloquence of the clucking oboe in the second subject of the opening movement of the Hen Symphony.

And what of those speeds? Outer movements have a zesty drive, while go-ahead tempi prevent slow movements from becoming static. There’s a pleasing lilt to, say, the Allegretto of the Bear. Norrington’s point in that contentious tempo for the Romance of No 85, La Reine de France, is that it bears the same allegretto marking and should thus be closely related in tempo to similarly designated movements. It certainly brings out the folksy nature of the piece; and perhaps those scything string scales at the first forte are supposed to foretell the fall of the guillotine that was so soon to become a pain in the neck for the symphony’s namesake.

The Minuets, however, Norrington paces perfectly, demonstrating that it is possible to let phrases breathe and Haydn’s trademark humour to glow through these dance movements. Only Symphony No 86 disappoints – minuscule lapses in ensemble and intonation might have been tidied up – and the omission of the final repeat in No 84 is a puzzle (it’s not as though space is at a premium on this bargain three-disc set). If you like your Haydn thought-out and thought-provoking, ignore the roadkill on the information superhighway and incline an ear towards Norrington. His didacticism may tumble into dogma and mannerism on occasion but, listening, you simply know he loves every note.