Zdenek Mácal’s reading can come over as genial where darker emotions might seem de rigueur, but without any sense of ploughing through the notes on autopilot. The Czech Philharmonic is on fine form, boasting evocative winds and lean, diaphanous strings. Thanks in part to Exton’s extraordinary sonics, this is a Seventh in which the narrative emerges afresh, softened and, for some perhaps, neutered, the edgier contours of a Bernstein or an Abbado transmuted into a Mitteleuropean glow. There’s no want of clarity despite the deep perspectives obtained in what is a mix of live music-making and studio sessions. Curiously, although tempi are not unduly slow, the first movement comes on a separate disc, presumably to ensure that the sonic qualities of the SACD hybrid format are not compromised.

Audiophiles unfamiliar with the luminous sound Exton has been achieving in Prague’s Rudolfinum should experience it for themselves. Hardcore Mahlerians on the other hand may be less convinced. Notwithstanding the idiomatic touches of rubato applied sparingly throughout and Mácal’s lingering farewells to several movements, you may feel that civility and round tone can take us only so far. The score’s grotesqueries are knowingly undersold. Even if Mácal’s elegant conducting suits the Fourth (1/09) rather better, low-key Mahler is not the same as disengaged Mahler, and the conductor would no doubt point out that the composer could himself be regarded as Czech, having been born only 50km from his own native city of Brno. An English-language insert by Anthony Burton has been popped into the Japanese-oriented booklet in recognition of the wider international appeal of this technically admirable series, mixed and mastered in Yokohama.