This coupling defines Shostakovich in so many ways – not least the subterfuge and double-speak that marked out his symphonic journey and kept him on the right side (just) of the Soviet establishment. Interestingly enough, Jaap van Zweden’s is the first recording of the Fifth Symphony since the era of Previn and Bernstein not to re-evaluate the close of the symphony in line with the slower (and for decades misread or misunderstood) metronome marking. Surely the inanity of those endlessly repeated As is indication enough that this is some kind of enforced celebration not the spontaneous expression of upbeat triumphalism (I was wrong, you were right) that the State read it to be.

This apart – and, of course, van Zweden will have his reasons – there is much to admire in his reading of the Fifth, not least the virtuosic and committed playing of the Hong Kong Philharmonic. The emphatic exchange of lower and upper strings at the outset is suitably prophetic of the first movement’s unease soulfully countered by first and second subjects of ethereal beauty. Van Zweden’s direct no-nonsense approach resists the temptation to ease the tempo and open out the haunting second subject into something more conspicuously emotive and atmospheric.

But therein lies my main issue with the reading – an overriding sense of ‘in-tempo’ about it all. This is especially true of the slow movement (a nod if ever there was one to the great Tchaikovsky) where surely the presence of bar lines should in a sense evaporate and one should lose oneself in music that somehow finds its own space. But the intensity is undoubtedly there and things like the development of the first movement and opening paragraph of the finale really pack a punch. The former is very exciting indeed, frog-marching to that epic declaration in strings and horns which marks out the recapitulation. But then, of course, there’s that ending. How do you want it to sound? ‘A Soviet artist’s reply to just criticism’ is surely loaded with irony.

And irony is the wicked watchword of the entirely unexpected Ninth Symphony. Van Zweden appears much more in tune with the undisguised cynicism of its circus antics and Red Army cavortings. It was a great favourite of Leonard Bernstein – he could and did go to town on its vulgar subversion. This is music that pulls the rug from beneath us pretty much from start to finish. The wistful flute-led Moderato is about as close as we get to a reflective slow movement – a release, if you like, from the tomfoolery – though the solo bassoon has a further crack at gravity in the almost indecently brief trombone-led Largo. Just the word largo heightens expectations for a ‘profound’ essay of sorts – but before you can say ‘Shostakovich’ the bassoon pulls a funny face and we’re romping into the finale.

Van Zweden and his orchestra kick up their heels with relish and come the eleventh-hour arrival of the Red Army Band (at least that’s what I hear in it) the result is vulgar, hilarious and unsettling at one and the same time. This has to be one of the best accounts of the piece on disc – and there’s enough about van Zweden’s Fifth to merit a serious listen.