Think of the petty humiliations Dvořák had to endure from a German-speaking musical establishment. Add the condescension of a posterity that still belittles his music as ‘nationalist’ exotica, and it’s easier to understand why an entire programme of Czech orchestral songs feels like such a novelty. But be in no doubt: this is a gorgeous recording, and in the hands of Rattle, KoŽená and the Czech Philharmonic, much of the repertoire here comes as a revelation.

Two groups of Dvořák songs are at the heart of the recital, in warm, suitably deep-hued orchestrations by Jiři Gemrot. But the real discovery for me – even more than the exquisitely pointed, surreal Op 1 songs by Hans Krása – was Martinů’s Nipponari, a ravishing spring-to-winter cycle scored for a luminous chamber ensemble. The parallels with Das Lied von der Erde are not lost on a Mahlerian as seasoned as Rattle, and the cycle is sung by KoŽená (like everything in this programme) with intense sensitivity to the meaning and colour of the words.

She’s sounding gloriously fresh, by the way. If you wanted to pick holes, you might point to a certain tightening of her top register, and a slightly over-emphatic attack to the starts of phrases. But set against the rich, poetic glow of the Czech Philharmonic’s sound (captured in a spacious acoustic), KoŽená brings a real immediacy, and in the Martinů and Krása songs in particular, Rattle’s familiar mannerisms – that boyish delight in texture and instrumental detail – become unalloyed strengths. These performances glisten with affection and wonder; and the final item – Gideon Klein’s heartbreaking Lullaby – brings a lovingly conceived programme to a haunting finish. An album to savour.