These Royal Festival Hall performances are classic examples of live recordings that paraxodically generate less excitement than one would expect of the studio equivalent. Martin Helmchen begins the First Concerto with a flexibility that might be fine for Fauré but that’s surplus to requirements here, and for all its poise and pertness that follow, the first movement never properly comes alive. Nor does the ultra-refined, perfectly tuned trumpet of Paul Beniston show any inclination to move things on into the young-man-in-a-hurry world Shostakovich inhabited in the 1930s, while a pall of self-consciousness hangs over Jurowski’s conducting. The slow movement is even sleepier and, though the finale is bright and bouncy, daredevil it is not.

Similarly in the Second Concerto, I would want more from a CD on my shelves than this everything-in-its-place performance, though had the first movement generated more excitement, Helmchen’s hushed playing in the Andante would certainly have been something to write home about.

The Piano Quintet makes a generous coupling but is again hamstrung by a misplaced musicality. The first movement starts too slow and gets slower still, virtually grinding to a halt at the reprise. I continued listening out of duty and found much to admire but nothing I would feel compelled to return to.