The almost 15-year-old Mozart’s first opera seria (Milan, 1770) was performed 22 times but not revived again until 1970. The Orchestra of Classical Opera play with admirable flexibility during the Overture, from the delicacy of the Andante grazioso to the energy of the ensuing Presto. From the outset, Ian Page nurtures a performance that crackles, beguiles, thrills and moves by turns exactly as Mozart’s opera requires – and plenty of the credit must go to the expert continuo duo of Andrew Skidmore (cello) and Steven Devine (harpsichord), who ensure that the recitatives flow with theatrical awareness but without distracting fuss.

The tyrant Mitridate has extraordinary leaps hurling to the uppermost reaches of his voice, whether the music is designed to portray gentle catharsis upon arriving home safely from war (‘Se di lauri il crine adorno’, which took Mozart several attempts to satisfy the difficult tenor Guglielmo d’Ettore) or jealous shouts of ‘perfidi’ when condemning both of his sons to death (‘Già di pietà mi spoglio’). At either emotional extreme, Barry Banks dispatches the fiendish demands of the role with impressive security and vividness. Sifare’s ‘Lungi da te, mio bene’ portrays his juxtaposed feelings of bliss and melancholy: he has just realised Aspasia requites his love but she instructs him sorrowfully to stay away from her in order to preserve her honour (Gavin Edwards’s poignant horn obbligato forms an exquisite dialogue with Sophie Bevan’s Sifare). Miah Persson’s compassionate artistry and vocal intelligence seem tailor made for the scene in which Aspasia contemplates being forced to drink poison (‘Pallid’ombre’). The seditious Farnace is the anti-hero who eventually turns into his nation’s redeemer, evolving from the sneering arrogance and punchy defiance of his father in ‘Venga pur, minacci e frema’ (Lawrence Zazzo hints at dysfunctional torment) to a penitent regret of his treason and a desire to make amends in ‘Già dagli occhi il velo è tolto’.

Klara Ek’s supple singing as the jilted Ismene, Robert Murray’s over-confident Roman tribune Marzio and Anna Devin’s anxious Arbate round off a consistent cast without any weak links. Classical Opera’s achievement is at least the equal of any version hitherto in the opera’s distinguished discography, and Page also offers an entire extra album’s worth of alternative versions of seven arias and a duet, most of them rejected by the fussy Milanese company of singers, who demanded that the malleable teenager scrap his first ideas and replace them with alternative settings more to their liking.