In its concise but slow-feeling harmonic journey, Sibelius’s Intrada (1925) sounds almost like a Schenkerian harmonic plotting of a larger, more colourful orchestral score. It followed the Seventh Symphony and there’s a clear motivic parallel (the gesture immediately preceding the symphony’s trombone solo). Surusoitto (1931) was written for Akseli Gallen’s funeral and to my ears manages to capture a number of the painter’s visual hallmarks, not least a certain shrieking drama isolated to a fleeting moment or background detail. Genuinely fascinating in a year like this, but there’s no getting round the fact that Sibelius’s union with the organ was a more funereal than matrimonial one.

Nielsen’s relationship with the instrument was more significant. He was immensely proud of Commotio (also 1931), the crowning glory of his late turn to polyphony. In a sense, it’s his most impressive creation – 23 minutes (under Anders Eidsten Dahl’s fingers and feet) and astonishing in its melding of Nielsen’s angular shapes to such intense counterpoint (three Danish composers have orchestrated it). I have a soft spot for Keith John’s terrifyingly gothic new recording from Gloucester Cathedral (Willowhayne Recordings) but that has to be filed under ‘guilty pleasure’ when you consider Nielsen’s polyphonic project. From Dahl, it all sounds a bit head-over-heart, which was precisely Nielsen’s point.

Elsewhere, the compact 1998 Carsten Lund instrument at Bragernes Church can feel limited. Dahl finds some nice French sounds in Sinding’s Hymnus but the composer’s structural preoccupations come at the expense of the freshening melodies he delivered elsewhere. Well-known Oslo cabaret artist Carsten Carlsen’s organ works are of passing interest too. But Hugo Alvfén’s little Präludium (1913) is a delight – proper chorale-based organ music in the tradition of Reger, which prompts some of Dahl’s most nuanced playing.