I had never come across August Klughardt (1847-1902). There is a statue of him in Dessau, where he spent most of his career, so he must have been highly thought of there, if nowhere else. I think I know why I hadn’t heard of him before, if his Symphony No 4 is anything to go by: there is no distinct musical personality behind the music. You can hear how well schooled in orchestration he is, you can admire his craftsmanship and the subtle and often imaginative touches of colour he produces, you can follow the ebb and flow of the structure, but the musical argument, the essential narrative conflict, is like someone pouring you a double whisky and then drowning it with too much water. And what do the exactly contemporary symphonies by Tchaikovsky (No 5), Dvorak (Nos 8 and 9) and Mahler (No 1) have that Klughardt does not, other than genius? Melody, and strong, unforgettable ideas.

But if the pleasant-enough symphony appears to go through the motions (extended first movement, chorale-like slow movement, a brief scherzo that sounds like pastiche Beethoven and a finale which, to quote an early review, ‘values contrapuntal work more than thematic invention’), Klughadt’s Drei Stücke have a more individual flair. The first (Capriccio) features a prominent and highly attractive duologue with the harp; the second (Gavotte) is a graceful look back at the dance form; the third (Tarantelle), reminiscent of Rossini’s La danza and every other tarantella you’ve ever heard, has instant appeal. The Anhaltische Philharmonia Dessau, of which Klughardt was music director from 1882 to 1902, boxes far above its weight under its present director Antony Hermus, and has been well recorded.