In Mozart and above all Wagner, Daniel Barenboim has few peers. The pianist-conductor has come late to recording Mahler symphonies, deterred by the hype surrounding the composer and the over-hyped quality of so many interpretations of his works. If, like me, you feel that a particular kind of hysterical precision is inseparable from the authentic Mahlerian sound, you may not warm to what Barenboim does with the Seventh. The whole concept is positively ‘old school’ – uncommonly relaxed and euphonious with rhythms not always ultra-sharp. That this unforced, even defanged, approach works at all is thanks to the rounded, humane response of an orchestra with one of the longest traditions of all German ensembles.

The first movement begins unusually, focusing on the functionally accompanimental chugging of the strings. Thereafter Barenboim’s reluctance to go for broke means that tension can sag, even as one is struck by how many colouristic details emerge refreshed, less garish than usual. The first Nachtmusik is launched evocatively before a certain blandness sets in again: why so little differentiation between march-tempo and limp-wristed Ländler?

The Scherzo has more zip, if little sense of terror, while the second Nachtmusik is yet more convincing, most sweetly done. Barenboim’s admirers will welcome the civility of the finale. For this reviewer it fatally lacks the élan brought to it by conductors such as Bernstein or Rattle. What’s left is the naturally gorgeous sonority of the Berlin Staatskapelle. The Philharmonie can be a devil of a venue but the sound here is more successful than that habitually obtained by EMI, right down to some effectively distanced, uncommonly ingratiating cowbells. My advice is try before you buy.