Prélude à L’après-midi d’un faune, Boléro and The Rite of Spring tiptoe into existence by stealth, solo woodwinds making an approach from the horizon, clawing open previously unimagined sonic vistas. And hearing this holy trilogy placed side by side is enough to make you speculate about why more conductors haven’t thought to programme these pieces in sequence. Philippe Jordan is clearly interested in tracing the linkages and the lineage; how three trailblazing minds listened and learnt from each other.

He favours upbeat, pacy tempi throughout the disc, and no sooner has the bassoonist located the super-high C in The Rite of Spring than the rest of the woodwind section muscle in: hyperactive, scorched-earth rumblings from the start. The Orchestre de l’Opéra National de Paris is more than game for this unusually deep workout. The white-noise shrillness of piccolo and flute invades your skull as they herald an abrupt change of gear during ‘Rondes printanières’ and, at this urgent tempo, the ‘Cortège du sage’ rolls with a peculiarly savage punch. I do wonder, however, if Jordan’s speed-freak tendencies subsequently push him into a corner; the opening of Part 2 can’t breathe like you and I know it needs to – an undermining problem, too, in a rushed and needlessly featureless Boléro.

Jordan’s Prélude à L’après-midi d’un faune starts promisingly but becomes over romanticised; in the same work Paavo Järvi is resolutely steady-as-she-goes, every note stolidly in place, but you never feel the love. In truth, had I been at the Salle Pleyel in Paris to witness Järvi give these concerts, I’d probably have enjoyed myself. There’s nothing especially wrong with the performances but equally nothing so special as to justify their elevation to DVD.

The Firebird is touched with a hint of Fantasia; a muscular ‘Infernal Dance’, albeit one that never properly stings, a triumphant ‘that’s all folks’ overcooked finale. Järvi’s Rite is more considered and the cleverly produced visuals emphasise what a technical stretch the piece remains, even for the Orchestre de Paris. Bassoonists gobble like petrified turkeys as Stravinsky forces double bassists and timpanists to make highly counterintuitive body movements to achieve the right sound. And I like the visual puns: close-ups on brass tubing gyrating in time, dancing to Stravinsky’s tune.