As our leading Janáček scholar, John Tyrrell, points out in his valuable notes to this issue, a clue to the character of the Sinfonietta ‘is given by its original title: Military Sinfonietta’; and this colours the scoring of the first movement in particular, with its array of nine high trumpets plus bass trumpets, tenor tubas and timpani. There is a distinctly fanfaring note to the invention but Gardner seems concerned to domesticate this, as it were, to the concert hall, with proud phrasing and shining tone to the textures but some softening of the attack. The contrast with the more lyrical Moderato movement, finely played though it be, is to some extent forfeited. But the players are brilliant and the sound is glorious, very skilfully recorded.

Such skills are much needed in the Capriccio, with its eccentric scoring for flute, trumpets, tenor tuba (cheerful with his jaunty tune in the third movement) and three trombones all backing up the piano, left hand only. The original pianist, Otakar Hollmann, had, like the better-known Paul Wittgenstein, lost his right arm in the war. Jean-Efflam Bavouzet performs dazzling feats of virtuosity with a truly exacting solo part; and the extraordinary, fascinating textures are displayed by both artists and recording engineers. The third piece here, in what is the first of a Chandos series of Janáček’s orchestral works, is the suite from The Cunning Little Vixen, originally made by Václav Talich, revised by his student Charles Mackerras, and played here with affection for the most lyrical elements in an enchanting opera.