Mark Wigglesworth’s stop-go Shostakovich cycle has been gathering momentum without compromising its particular characteristics of high seriousness, fine detailing and a certain fierceness of articulation. His own obstinately revisionist booklet-notes may continue to obsess over the oppressive political and moral context in which Shostakovich fashioned his oeuvre but his music-making is a model of “objective” clarity, worlds away from the well intentioned point-scoring of the late Mstislav Rostropovich. That said, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of a Ninth so (neo-)classically well mannered and lacking in humour in the outer movements. The grinding Kondrashin-like climax at the apex of the finale doesn’t come across as a satirical comment on compulsory rejoicing when so much else has been underplayed. Is the thoughtful, contained effect intentional? It’s your call!

we reach the Twelfth the jackboot is on the other foot. Though the opening is again subdued, avoiding any hint of bombast, Wigglesworth is soon pitching in with such determination and lack of gloss that this supposed ode to Lenin seems toughened, less glib than usual. Without for a moment short-changing the music’s purely colouristic element, any impression of cinematic excess is successfully purged. Rhythms are thrust home rigorously and tension sustained even in the music’s more meandering crepuscular segments. The fine Dutch orchestra might not have the distinctive timbre or weight of sonority of bigger names but its scrupulous preparation is immediately apparent. And BIS’s recording, as throughout this series, is outstandingly faithful and wide-ranging. Recommended.