The two vintage Austrian Radio concert broadcasts combined and upgraded here – in vision and, perhaps, sound (no details) – were originally on two TDK DVDs. On this ‘new’ reissue a brushing away of original period interference has achieved little startling for either picture or sound. ArtHaus has not taken the opportunity (which YouTube has on a clean upload of both concerts) to incorporate the subtly enlarged chamber-orchestral performance of the Siegfried Idyll that opened the 1963 concert. Nor has it edited out the motiveless mooning over the Theater an der Wien audience which fills time between items. The booklet-note gives no newer information than umpteenth-hand opinions of the conductor.

Nonetheless, I agree with Alan Blyth (writing in 2004) that these historic performances remain more golden than their ageing picture frames. For me this Leonore No 3 is neither ‘pawky’ nor ‘undramatic’ (as Blyth felt), rather a representative example of Knappertsbusch in the classics – ‘slow’ by the clock but free of the Rossini-like crescendo-ing introduced by some conductors performing it as an entr’acte during Act 2 of Fidelio. In the Concerto, enjoy the careful balancing of dynamics as Orpheus tames the Furies and the (surprisingly) light steering of the finale. The 78-year-old Backhaus’s right hand lacks its touch of yesteryear which, combined with ‘period’ piano sound, can make for some uncomfortably trebly listening. The Tristan Prelude, characteristically shorn of Romantic over-anticipation, has a powerful climax magicked out of apparently nowhere while Nilsson, and ORF’s balance engineers, take the greatest of care with her text.

The first half of Die Walküre Act 1 suits Knappertsbusch’s grave spaciousness, a kind of blacker lower-life Tristan. But as soon as Josef Greindl’s frightening Hunding has finished, grave spaciousness begins to feel like unexcited lethargy. Klemperer (Testament) may be slower and heavier but is everywhere sensual and more dramatic. Claire Watson – an admirable Marschallin and Ellen Orford – is backwards in coming forwards at conveying erotic emotion on the concert platform: there’s little mystery in her uncovering of Siegmund’s identity. Nor does Knappertsbusch allow his Wälsungs a real climax either at the peak of Sieglinde’s ‘Der Männer Sippe’ or when Siegmund (an effective and more passionate Fritz Uhl) draws out the sword – although he puts a deal of ensemble-threatening energy into not getting faster as the act ends.

Overall, a reissue lily in need of more gilding.