There is so much to admire here that it seems almost churlish to complain once more about a lack of spontaneity, of heat, of temperament. Pletnev is a cool, collected musical intellect – one does not doubt the reasoning behind what he does or the way he does it. There are phrasings and voicings throughout both works that are testament to his indisputable musicality. But suffice it to say this Tchaikovsky is the complete antithesis of, say, the Mravinsky/Leningrad approach and that may be all you need to know.

Details are invariably surprising: listen to the busy inner woodwind voices at the start of the Allegro con anima in the first movement of the Fifth Symphony; they are, you quickly realise, the real movement or “animation” at the heart of the texture. Rubatos, too, are elegantly turned, the phrasing eminently pianistic in that it is so quick of reflex. Of course, it takes an orchestra of extraordinary dexterity to pull off these subtly shifting nuances – and the Russian National Orchestra is extraordinarily responsive. Their playing is chamber-like in inflection, just writ larger. Is there a more graceful or deftly articulate account of the third-movement Valse on disc than this? And what of the extraordinary moment of stasis between the two great planks of the Allegro vivace in the finale?

But there is a world of difference between calculating precisely where and how this music makes its effects and bringing it off the page with immediacy and (apparent) abandon. Francesca da Rimini comes close in its piccolo-topped whirlwinds of sound and there is much beauty in the central love theme (gorgeous solo clarinet) – but should it really be so obvious that Pletnev is saving all his firepower for the very final trumpet and tam‑tam laden chord? I think not. Compare Stokowski or Bernstein.