Oscar Wilde’s A Florentine Tragedy was drafted in 1893, but it seems entirely at home in the Vienna of Freud and Kokoschka where Zemlinsky composed his operatic version in 1915-16. The three characters play out a sordid scenario: a rich merchant returns home to find his wife entertaining a prince and, after feigning indifference, kills him, upon which her passion for her husband and his interest in her beauty are rekindled. Whether or not Wilde took his own conclusion entirely seriously (it raises little more than a derisory laugh nowadays), Zemlinsky clearly did, and to reinforce its tackiness he brings back the Straussian voluptuousness that forms the orchestral Prelude, where it presumably depicted the prince and the merchant’s wife in flagrante.

In the opera house this unashamed attempt to piggy-back on the success of Salome and Der Rosenkavalier generates little dramatic tension, and there is no critical attitude to the events depicted of the kind that would give audiences something to chew on after the show. I therefore don’t find the opera under-rated (as Michael Oliver did when reviewing the Albrecht disc). Still, A Florentine Tragedy scores highly in terms of instant gratification. The orchestral writing is full of gorgeous ideas, and Armin Jordan has his French Radio orchestra revelling in its swoops, glides and swirls. As the merchant, who twigs the situation far earlier than he gives us to understand, Albert Dohmen catches the undercurrent of outrage to perfection, and Viktor Lutsiuk brings equal vocal presence to the role of the Prince. Iris Vermillion has comparatively little to do, but she does it admirably. For a single live performance – in concert and therefore with a warmer acoustic than most opera houses – the orchestral playing is outstanding, not only for its accuracy but also for its boldness and sweep. Recording quality is fine and documentation more than adequate.

For competition there is the pioneering Albrecht recording, now sounding a little frayed (and by the way, what has happened to Albrecht’s superb recording of Zemlinsky’s finest opera, Der Zwerg?) and the classy Chailly, only available harnessed to Zemlinsky’s Lyric Symphony and symphonic songs. Should Decca ever withdraw their two-CD set – or should anyone want just the opera – this new Naïve disc offers a splendid alternative.