Like previous offerings in Fey’s Haydn series with the brilliant Heidelberg orchestra (modern strings and wind, “authentic” valveless brass), this is compelling and infuriating by turns. At their best these performances combine finesse, revelatory clarity of texture and a thrilling, dangerous adrenalin count. The first movement of No 47, braying, hollering horns to the fore, packs a terrific punch. When the recapitulation erupts in G minor rather than major, the effect is almost apocalyptic. The finale is just as exciting, the repeated-note bass-lines charged with quivering nervous energy, the dissonant, disruptive potential of the raucous zingarese outbursts exploited to the full. But Fey can be subtly expressive, too: the variation slow movement is poised and delicate, the rarefied figuration for silvery muted strings shaped with uncommon eloquence.

Occasional tempo manipulations in No 47 (not for nothing is Fey a former Harnoncourt pupil) always seem expressively justified. In the other two symphonies, though, the stunning playing and fierce dramatic intensity (quite ferocious in No 44) co-exist with moments of perversity. I don’t mind the added brass fanfares in the ceremonial opening Allegro of No 41, or the unscripted pizzicati in the charming rococo slow movement. But why, I wonder, does Fey see the need to grind to a virtual halt in the development? Haydn’s teasing false moves are far wittier without this kind of heavy underlining.

There are further grotesque distensions of the pulse in the first and last movements of the Trauer, plus an implausibly breathless tempo for the canonic Minuet. To compound my frustration, the seraphic Adagio is played with hushed, ethereal beauty. I shall certainly want to return to this disc when I’m feeling particularly strong. But if you want comparable dramatic excitement without the irritating eccentricities, go for Pinnock, on a six-disc Archiv set of 19 symphonies from the so-called Sturm und Drang years.