Pietari Inkinen’s two previous Sibelius anthologies for Naxos (3/08, 2/09) were full of insight, and the same holds true for this first instalment in a new cycle of the symphonies (will it, I wonder, include Kullervo?). As before, the young Finn draws playing of infectious zeal from the NZSO (what an accomplished band they have become in recent years), and his cannily paced and scrupulously prepared readings have much in their favour: intelligence, tastefulness and honesty are the watchwords here.

The First Symphony enjoys refreshingly unmannered treatment – one feels in safe hands right from the word go (the dusky introduction’s exceptionally eloquent clarinet solo generates the right kind of tingling expectancy). I love the bite and fire these responsive artists bring to both the first movement’s development section and the Scherzo, and Inkinen gauges the mounting sense of crisis in the second half of the slow movement with acute skill (the swirling climax thunders magnificently). The finale, too, is negotiated with sure-footed aplomb, its at times heart-on-sleeve romanticism tempered with a restraint that may perhaps not be to everyone’s liking: the second subject’s refulgent B major sunburst towards the close is not as sensuous as it can be but has a supremely touching radiance none the less (and one notices that the strings’ marking is only forte after all).

The Third is even finer. In the bracing opening Allegro moderato, how perceptively Inkinen handles that searching transition into the development, and if there’s the odd detail that goes astray (as the recapitulation heaves into view, the ff bassoons at three before fig 10 or 5'34" don’t quite register as they should), there’s much to admire in the keen vigour, purposefulness and sensitivity of his conception. The twilit slow movement (rooted in the remote tonality of G sharp minor) is as wistfully atmospheric and (in the central section) delicately capricious as one could wish, while the endlessly absorbing scherzo-cum-finale combines muscular grip and rhythmic snap to especially pleasing effect. Although Sir Colin Davis’s sublime 1976 Boston SO account (Philips, 8/77^R) remains my interpretative touchstone (it has an articulate majesty, humanity and wisdom that never fail to nourish and inspire), no one investing in this fresh-faced newcomer is likely to come away feeling short-changed. This is a most persuasive start to Inkinen’s cycle, with outstandingly vivid sound a further bonus. I look forward to future volumes.