‘It is not my favourite amongst my symphonies. For the first time, I felt the music of Bruckner “distracting” me; it overcame me and I found it hard to resist its influence.’ Thus Lucerne-born composer and conductor Fritz Brun (1878-1959) on the Fourth of his 10 symphonies, in a correspondence with Hermann Scherchen dated October 1, 1939. Brun had completed the work 14 years previously; Volkmar Andreae gave the world premiere in Zurich’s Tonhalle on February 1, 1926. Lasting some 47 minutes, it’s in three movements, the first of which (marked Poco mosso, con tranquillità) assigns a prominent role to the horn very much in the mould of Bruckner’s Romantic Symphony and whose blissful progress seems to mirror the breathtaking landscape around Morcote on Lake Lugano in the Swiss canton of Ticino where it was conceived. Next comes a scherzo in all but name, whose agitated, even irascible outer portions contrast pleasingly with the nobly contemplative Adagio sostenuto at its heart. The extended finale serves up plenty of satisfyingly knotty dialogue, before tying together the threads for an exuberant pay-off. Stylistically, there are nods towards Bruckner, Mahler and Franz Schmidt; intriguingly, Brun’s orchestration has something of the craggy individuality of Havergal Brian’s. The very late Rhapsody (1957) comprises an amiable 10-minute score of no great consequence. Like the symphony, it suffers from a dearth of what I would term truly distinctive inspiration.

The composer’s countryman, Adriano, secures a plucky response from his Moscow band, but neither the orchestral playing nor slightly dry recorded sound represent exactly the last word in refinement. Diehards will doubtless want to acquire this; others should proceed with caution.