Though not world-premiere recordings – both the Symphony in F sharp minor (1916‑17) and the Piano Concerto in G minor (1913) were previously set down by CPO in a multi-disc project assisted by the Croatian Music Information Centre – Chandos could be on to a winner here. Like her even shorter-lived contemporary Lili Boulanger (1893-1918), Mária Theodora (Dora) Paulinać (1885-1923) was determined to transcend the gendered expectations of her age, writing with remarkable confidence for larger forces. If it is not always easy to discern her individual voice, it is worth pointing out that we would be remembering Ralph Vaughan Williams for his editorial contributions to English hymnody had he died at a similar age. Budapest-born and widely travelled, Countess Dora succumbed to complications arising from childbirth and kidney failure. Despite the material advantages conferred by her aristocratic connections, she had earlier served as a nurse tending wounded soldiers in her home town of Našice. Who can say how far she would have moved beyond lushly scored late-Romantic efflorescence? We can at least enjoy what we have, especially when Chandos flatters her invention with appropriately opulent recorded sound – the venue is Croydon’s recently revamped Fairfield Halls. Sakari Oramo directs with his customary perspicacity and conviction.

Big claims have been made for the Symphony. Whether a Great War piece or a distraction from it, this ambitious utterance runs for three quarters of an hour, launched by the sort of grinding dissonance sometimes correlated with ‘masculinity’. Although the music settles into a melodically based sequential discourse vaguely redolent of sub-par Elgar or early Scriabin, there’s always plenty of life and colour. The inner movements should impress: an eloquent, almost Brucknerian Andante with a poignant melody allocated initially to the cor anglais, succeeded by a Scherzo of rhythmic animation. The finale works its way to a big climax without seeming excessively overblown. The brass are ‘overused’ much as they might be in a Hollywood swashbuckler. And why not? Curiously, the Symphony’s key centre is not unrelated to that of Korngold’s only work in the form – both composers had sadly unrealised plans to write another.

Pejačević’s earlier Concerto I found less compelling: Rachmaninov without the tunes in the manner of York Bowen – you’ll know whether that sounds like your thing! According to Pamela Blevins’s enthusiastic booklet note, Pejačević had no experience in writing for woodwinds, brass or percussion prior to embarking on its composition. Nor was she a travelling virtuoso. She wrote her piano music for a big player and Peter Donohoe is certainly that. Ideally cast in the showier outer movements, he is suitably sensitive in the Adagio con estro poetico (‘with poetic flair or inspiration’), whose shadowy atmosphere feels a tad more special. Recommended.