Semyon Bychkov and the Vienna Philharmonic brought Franz Schmidt’s Second Symphony to the BBC Proms in September 2015, only a matter of days after making this recording in Vienna’s Musikverein. It’s as apparent here as much as it was in that concert the amount of affection with which both orchestra and conductor approach the work. And the recording suggests that even the Musikverein itself, sounding cushioned and clear, is holding the piece in a warm embrace – perhaps rather a little too warm in Sony’s smooth engineering.

The booklet reminds us of Schmidt’s many roles in Viennese musical life of the first half of the 20th century (including as a cellist in the opera house orchestra under Mahler), and of the fact that his status as a pillar of the musical establishment there perhaps amplified some critical views from beyond the Austrian capital. The damaging assessment of him as having been big on craftsmanship but rather short on inspiration, for example, has stuck.

And initially the Second Symphony of 1913 might seem to back it up. It’s an essentially sunny and pastoral work of shifting, beautifully dappled colours. There are disparate hints of Strauss, Reger, Bruckner and others, as well a couple of passages that look forward to the intense string-writing of Schmidt’s famous Intermezzo from Notre Dame, composed the following year.

But the piece takes a meandering course through a series of musical vistas that never quite seem to have time to develop into anything immediately concrete. And this effect seems to be emphasised by the performance here, which, unlike Neeme Järvi’s more robust account with the Chicago Symphony (Chandos), determinedly lets the music develop at its own pace: Bychkov is not a conductor to seek out cheap thrills.

With each listen, though, I found myself worrying less about Schmidt’s elusive, elliptical way with melody, or the fact that he presents climaxes that seem never to really offer answers. With this recording, one starts to admire what he achieves with the variations on his not terribly promising theme in the second movement, for example, and the slow-burn momentum of the initially underwhelming finale.

Whether the subtle seductiveness of the Viennese orchestra serves him better than the brassier, more forthright approach of the Chicago players might be down to personal taste, but this new recording makes a persuasive case for a work of considerable beauty. It’s an important addition to the catalogue. A gentle, tender account of Strauss’s most famous Intermezzo interlude makes a charming if hardly generous coupling.