John Nelson describes the St Matthew Passion as ‘the pinnacle of musical civilisation’ in a persuasive documentary which accompanies his recorded performance from the Saint-Denis Festival in France in 2011. Doubtless Iván Fischer would offer the same epithet but that is about as much as these two new thoughtful and distinctive readings have in common. Iván Fischer is not associated much with Bach but if the sign of our times is that more conductors are following the Chailly model and claiming him back for the mainstream, then that’s all to the good. Like Chailly (who in the DVD stills look uncannily like Nelson – or rather the other way round), Fischer has a somewhat oblique relationship to ‘period’ style; and rather like the Gewandhaus, the Concertgebouw players sit comfortably as reconstructed ‘al dente’ modern instrumentalists, purring away as ever but with an ear for Baroque luminosity, elegant nuancing and the like. It’s a supreme postmodern compromise.

They are, arguably, the most consistently compelling contributors to this performance (such as in ‘Ich will bei meinem’, launched by the oboe with wonderfully clarion-like qualities), the strings alluringly conversant and the chamber dialogues with the soloists always ringing with interest and vitality. Mark Padmore gives us another profoundly inhabited Evangelist, with not a moment wasted; it’s a suitably austere reading at times, with clarity of annunciation given priority over extended tonal coloration. Ingeborg Danz is less convincing, overall, than one might have hoped but never less than authoritative. Peter Harvey’s seasoned Christus provides an uncomplicated and devotional anchor to Fischer’s otherwise objectivised reading.

Indeed, Fischer almost eschews a personal vision: he uses the spatial aspect, almost exaggerating the double-choir and orchestra scoring within the luxuriance of the Concertgebouw, choosing a deliberately restrained and undemonstrative manner. The benefits are heard in his acute ear for a pure, abstract line ignited in a clean, rhetorical glow. Speeds are fastidiously chosen but not for the sake of expressive immediacy or dramatic moment: the choir is fully stocked but where are the baying turba, the questing disciples, and where, in that movement of peerless mystery ‘So ist mein Jesus nun gefangen’, is the personal anguish?

Some may feel that the ‘Great Passion’ is best served without excess obtrusiveness into a Bach text already rich beyond compare. John Nelson’s temperament and heart, however, return to some identifiable signposts for those who are drawn to the inner wonders of this visceral and shimmering journey. There may be less rarefied sophistication than with Fischer – and the Parisian instrumentalists are not always super-polished – but the corporate momentum in this reading is quite compelling.

Nelson gets to the core of the work with his avuncular didacticism and genial control; and what characterful singing emerges from the evergreen Lucy Crowe (one of the most beautiful ‘Aus Liebes’ you’ll ever hear), the natural and increasingly high-octane Evangelist of Werner Güra and Stephen Morscheck’s intense and patriarchal Christus, with Matthew Brook bringing his usual penetrative interpretation to proceedings. The last word goes to the fine Schola Cantorum of Oxford (mainly undergraduates not studying music), who deliver exactly what one misses in Fischer: true characterisation, tenderness, ardour and an attentiveness to detail which fuels Nelson’s rounded and mature vision of the St Matthew.