The opening of the symphony is a very pointed example of what makes Pletnev both intriguing and irritating. Tchaikovsky’s marking is Allegro tranquillo and the emergence of this conductor’s ‘Winter Daydreams’ already suggests a very slow thaw indeed. So a sleepy and somewhat self-conscious opening tempo which then has to buck up its pace into the main Allegro. It does at least sound eminently balletic.

With the lovely second subject, Pletnev affords his mellifluous solo clarinet room enough to make a real meal of the melody. It’s the same when the theme returns later (so at least he’s consistent) – a lingering embrace which might be affecting were the rubato not quite so cloying. Put simply, the sentiment is welcome, the execution is mannered to the point of awkwardness.

Tchaikovsky’s wonderfully evocative slow movement, glimpsed through intensely misty air, fares so much better: a chilly beauty with ravishing solo oboe (what an orchestra this is) and limpid flute ornamentation. But again Pletnev’s placement of the three string tremolandos heralding vista-opening horns is so pointed, indeed so laboured, as to draw unnecessary attention to the mechanics of the moment. Another instance of heightening awareness of the notes as opposed to the reasons for them.

The Scherzo liberally sprinkles old motherly Russian charm and the finale, with its balalaika-like pizzicatos and up-tempo rhythms, is suitably splashy and on the whole buoyant – barring one slightly scrappy passage in the fugal work-out. And, given what you have just read, it will not surprise you to learn that Pletnev makes the dark-to-light transition into the coda sound almost Brucknerian. The coda itself is too deliberate, too pompous – almost a dress-rehearsal for Marche slave, which certainly does the business and in turn sounds like a dress-rehearsal for the 1812. Intriguing but way too mannered for me.