In concert some of Skrowaczewski’s finest work with the Hallé has come since he ceased to be Principal Conductor in 1991. Their Shostakovich No 1 has been in the can for eight years, which is far too long for such a thought-provoking account. Skrowaczewski seems determined to rub the music the wrong way, yet the result carries immense conviction, thanks to the sense of common purpose. He hurries them through the Petrushka-ish introduction, but the skittish, puppet-like character still gets across, and the very hastiness seems to capture the composer’s teenage impatience. The thematic confrontations thereafter are especially carefully balanced, and the beautifully open Bridgewater Hall recording allows all sorts of subtle perspectives to register. Some of the solo playing is a fraction rough, but it never sounds dull or complacent. By the end I felt I had learnt something about the piece, or at least had been reminded of qualities in it that I had forgotten. Neeme Järvi and the Scottish National now sound routine by comparison.

Recorded a year later, the Sixth Symphony is initially rather less effective; the strings sound constricted and unnecessarily gruff. Yet there is something compelling about the austerity, and nothing Skrowaczewski does is for external effect – he is a master of the long line. In the central Scherzo the E flat clarinet is splendidly insouciant, and the finale goes at full tempo. In short these are accounts to reckon with.

Which is a lot more than can be said for Dmitri Kitaenko and the Gürzenich Orchestra in the Eighth Symphony. The Cologne-based orchestra seems to lack the instinct for demagoguery, and Kitaenko compounds the problem with a fatal lack of drive. At its best the playing is stable and disciplined; but those should merely be the means towards the opposite expressive ends. And at its worst, this performance sounds little better than a warm-up before the real thing.