Expertly transferred by Paul Baily and with detailed notes by Mike Ashman, this is a release to evoke a bygone era. Whether the actual music-making will inspire the under-50sI am less sure. In the 1920s Klemperer’s adamantine conducting style was thought the height of modernity and he himself was moved to find echoes of it at the very end of his life in the attitude of Pierre Boulez. That said, without the unanimity and clear-cut, wind-dominated textures achieved in his best studio recordings, the objective approach risks falling flat even in what would never then have been called signature works. His earlier (mono) LP of the Mozart, one of the first he made with the Philharmonia for EMI, is available on Testament. En route to a looser stereo remake, this live performance begins with a rugged and characteristically moderate Allegro moderato, the remaining movements being more in line with Sixties expectations.

The Mahler should matter more. As one of the composer’s original disciples, Klemperer’s devotion was unquestionable if not unquestioning in the manner we take for granted today. Of the symphonies he actually conducted, the Second was a regular calling card. In addition to the studio versions for Vox and, famously, EMI, the ardent fan can seek out live performances given in Amsterdam with Ferrier, in Sydney, Vienna, Munich and again in London. Of these, the 1965 Bavarian Radio relay is perhaps the finest, Janet Baker and Heather Harper repeating their sterling contributions to the present Royal Festival Hall concert. If you weren’t at the RFH in 1963 and already have that Munich account on EMI’s single disc, only the more natural microphone placing for Dame Janet and Testament’s wider dynamic range might conceivably justify the duplication involved.

Alas, the London ‘Urlicht’ offers the soloist little in the way of affectionate space or even rhythmic security. It’s the finale that best conveys the authentic gravitas and cumulative intensity of the ‘transfigured Kapellmeister’. The opening movement, always surprisingly brisk and generalised with him, has to work to find the intended physicality: the lacklustre start is presumably attributable to that famously incomprehensible beat. In the manner of the Naxos Toscanini broadcasts applause is retained before and after each work, although we are spared the Third Programme commentary.

It is as well to be reminded just how much an outsider Mahler remained at this time with Neville Cardus his only ardent champion among the UK’s newspaper critics. So is this a period piece or something more? As with some of Testament’s recent Barbirolli revivifications, I have my doubts.