Flying down from the gods to the stage in Copenhagen’s handsome Concert Hall is akin to a Harry Potter experience. The hall itself is variously tiered and acoustically generous. We’re whisked round from all angles, homing in on selected players, sometimes in such close detail that skin pigmentation is virtually as clear as the music. It’s the familiar old quandary: is all this visual information a necessity or a distraction? Brahms’s First, Nielsen’s Third, Sibelius’s Fifth and Dvořák’s Ninth aren’t about random zooming; they’re symphonic structures and the only worthy visual has the full orchestra permanently in view.

OK, there are some nice faces to watch, some ‘characterful’ ones too. Thomas Dausgaard himself is energetic, impassioned, easy to read and obviously intent on providing as clear a musical picture as possible. He is also an excellent talker, speaking (in interview) about all four works in descriptive terms that should certainly fire your imagination. And what he said really made me think…for example, about the accelerating chords at the beginning of Nielsen’s Third being a response to the monolithically spaced chords at the end of Sibelius’s Fifth. Not that Dausgaard himself actually makes that point: it’s just that his descriptions allowed me to make it for myself. Now that’s what I call good (ie Socratic) teaching.

Brahms’s First Symphony opens swiftly, the timps relentless and cleanly focused, the strings evenly projected. Once into the main Allegro, Dausgaard keeps to a lively pulse, subtly pushing the tempo up to the exposition repeat and marking a slight ritardando into the recapitulation. The slow movement is very much the sum of its parts, a lyrical outpouring with no seams showing, the finale more bracing than momentous. Once on the home straight Dausgaard directs a thrilling performance, and both he and the orchestra are evidently pleased with themselves.

Nielsen’s Third is even more successful. The exuberant waltz-like first movement sweeps all before it, the fluently played second movement features well balanced soloists and the finale, the highlight of the performance, has plenty of grit and impetus. Dausgaard’s Sibelius Fifth is superb, especially the first movement, which towards the end accelerates more excitingly than any I’ve heard in years. Tempo relations are thoughtfully negotiated and the tension doesn’t let up for a single moment. Nor does it in the New World Symphony, where the first movement’s second set has a winning lilt and the cor anglais solo in the Largo is beautifully played. The Scherzo has fire to spare and the finale confirms that sense of ‘longing’ that Dausgaard sees as central to the sense and feeling of the symphony. One gleans from what he says that music’s emotional climate is very important to him. But watching and listening confirms that, although he conducts from his heart, he has a strong intelligence guiding him. There aren’t too many conductors around today who balance those crucial values as successfully as he does.