One man’s meat is another man’s poison, so I’d better state straight away that the visuals are not to my tastes. The camera is nearly always on the move and there are far too many fussy camera angles, edits and wearily distracting close-ups to contend with. Lighting, colour and tint differ from performance to performance; indeed, there’s a (deliberately?) deathly pallor to skin tone in the Pathétique. Early on in the Fourth, a conspicuously naff freeze-frame on Gergiev’s face followed by a choice example of his peculiar brand of right-hand wobble momentarily made me wonder whether my DVD player was suffering from some kind of judder. Whatever you think of his rostrum manner, however, Gergiev certainly knows how to get what he wants, and his dedicated Mariinsky forces are with him every step of the way.

These are keenly voiced performances of plentiful character, intrepid incident and abundant temperament, occasionally infuriating, yes, but seldom aloof. As is so often the case, the first movement of the Fourth takes a little while to hit full stride; only in the development do the sparks really begin to fly. Gergiev’s handling of the slow movement’s outer sections feels a touch sticky, whereas the marvellous F major tune at its heart blossoms fulsomely. Both the Scherzo and finale have charisma and excitement by the spadeful. Although this new Fifth is a more wilful affair than Gergiev’s own VPO version for Philips, it still packs a visceral wallop and the Russian maestro’s identification with his countryman’s music is total. He plots a surer course through the Pathétique without any loss in edge-of-seat drama or soulful intensity, though his self-consciously treacly treatment of the first movement’s sublime second subject and glowering central climax will, I fancy, irk on repetition.

The actual sound, whether in stereo or surround, is first-class. Gergiev acolytes need not tarry; the rest should approach with an element of caution.