A very decent Sheherazade in the mould of what one might call a slick Western perception of Eastern promise. Gerard Schwarz’s seasoned Seattle Symphony makes a more than favourable impression, with cultured solo playing and an impressive opulence and corporate blend. Schwarz has an articulate and often seductive story-teller in his concertmaster-turned-sultana Maria Larionoff, whose immaculate tuning would alone help stave off her master’s displeasure. It all sounds very well – suitably wide-screen – in the ample acoustic of Seattle’s Benaroya Hall.

So what is lacking? Probably that innately Russian flavour – the weathered sonority and spontaneity of rubato that marks out performances such as Valery Gergiev’s sizzling account with the Mariinsky Orchestra or even Sir Thomas Beecham’s rather more dapper but still luscious classic. There are glimmers of what I am suggesting, principally in the characterful solo woodwind playing – most notably the first bassoon, who alludes to the kind of folksy Russian voice that has been well lubricated by a lifetime of vodka consumption. The tender romance of the Prince and Princess is conveyed in subtle and curvaceous phrasings (though not of the complete gorgeousness of Beecham in this movement), but where the music demands a more visceral thrust – Prince Kalender’s assertive character study or the mounting frenzy of the “Festival at Baghdad” and the climactic trombone and bass drum-buffeted tempest (Gergiev thrilling here) – Schwarz is short on excitement.

The Tale of Tsar Saltan Suite suggests a decorative impressionism more than primitivist folk art, though the songful apotheosis of “The Three Wonders” is suitably luxuriant. Oh, and there’s that ubiquitous bumble-bee buzzing off into the Seattle skyline – in search perhaps of more exotic climes. That’s really the problem here – the exoticism is somewhat manufactured.