Dutton is spoiling us. Not content to give us the first fully professional recording of Sullivan and Grundy’s ‘original light English opera’ Haddon Hall, the company has gone further and recreated what is effectively a whole evening’s entertainment at the Savoy circa 1893. In line with period practice, Haddon Hall is the central panel of a triple bill, flanked by a pair of brief one-act operettas. Any number of these tuneful squibs – English descendants of Offenbach’s one-acters – flitted across the Victorian stage, though only Trial by Jury survives today. The excellent booklet notes to this two-disc set reveal the feat of musical archaeology that enabled Dutton to revive the pair recorded here.

So let’s deal with them first. Ernest Ford’s Mr Jericho and Francois Cellier’s Captain Billy are, unsurprisingly, frothy affairs, but the vivacity and catchiness of the music is utterly delightful and the scoring in particular is surely much finer than it ever needed to be. No surprise there from Sullivan’s one-time assistant Cellier (whose operetta Dorothy out-sold The Mikado in its day). But it’s the jaunty theme song of Ben McAteer’s jam-maker Jericho that has lodged immovably in my ear, sung (like everything here) with a warm-toned humour that never degenerates into mere ‘character’ singing. It’s hard to imagine that Richard D’Oyly Carte’s hard-working repertory company performed these pieces with anything like the sensitivity and finesse that they receive here from John Andrews and his cast.

That same polish, vivacity and sense of style pays glorious dividends in Haddon Hall – written by Sullivan while his relationship with Gilbert was unravelling, in an idiom somewhere between Ruddigore and Ivanhoe. George Bernard Shaw felt that it was one of the finest of the Savoy Operas, and there are points in this tale of love and elopement during the English Civil War – such as Act 2’s nocturnal storms and the pathos of the dispossessed Sir George and Lady Vernon in Act 3 – that definitely feel more like a dramma giocoso than an opera buffa.

But it’s inescapably true that the individual characters in Sydney Grundy’s libretto are less vividly drawn than Gilbert’s, and that a little of the comic Scotsman McCrankie goes a very long way. (Dutton omits the spoken dialogue but it can be downloaded from their website, if you need proof that its absence is a blessing.) Anyway, thanks to Dutton, you can make up your own mind. Andrews draws both grandeur and poetry from the BBC Concert Orchestra; there’s a dancelike spring to Sullivan’s rhythms and his orchestration – whether wry bassoon countermelodies or feather-light woodwind cascades – glows like never before.

The choral singing is characterful and alert, and there isn’t a single member of the cast who doesn’t sound entirely committed to their role, with Sarah Tynan and Ed Lyon ardent and sweet-toned as the young lovers John and Dorothy, McAteer lyrical as well as droll as the scheming suitor Rupert and performances of sonorous dignity from Henry Waddington and Fiona Kimm as the senior Vernons. The words are clearly enunciated and stylishly phrased but they’re always expressively sung – no old-school Savoy barking and blustering here. In fact, I’d say that for the quality of the performances, as well as the imaginative choice of repertoire, this recording sets a new standard in the presentation of English light opera on disc. More, please!