Attempting to interest the Paris Opéra in a Fliegende Holländer composed by him, Wagner (in 1839) was told bluntly that music by a ‘stubborn idiot, assailing us with impossible ideas’ was not wanted for ‘at least seven years’ (ironically the length of the phantom Dutchman’s obligatory term at sea). However, the Opéra’s director thought enough of Wagner’s sketch of the story’s drama to buy it from him. It was passed over to playwright, critic and novelist Paul-Henri Foucher (Victor Hugo’s brother-in-law) and Benédict-Henri Révoil to make into a libretto for Pierre-Louis Philippe Dietsch, composer, instrumentalist and now chorusmaster at the Opéra.

This important release finally gives us the chance to hear Dietsch and Foucher’s Le vaisseau fantôme, ou Le maudit des mers. It does show the influence of Wagner’s sketch. The heroine Minna sings a ballad of the phantom sailor Troïl (Act 1, ‘Il est un cap que Dieu garde lui-même’), hoping for his redemption. Her problematic relationship with would-be husband Magnus (Act 1 duet ‘Pourquoi, Magnus, seul avec moi’) is dominated by his fears that she doesn’t really love him. Minna’s merchant father Barlow – arriving as in Wagner after a time away at sea – sings to her a self-justifying credo (‘Ces doux talismans que j’aime’) about riches and the suitability of a stranger (posing as a Swedish captain) to be her husband. And when the wedding of Minna and Troïl is announced, a celebratory sailors’ choral battle takes place, with the locals scared off by the lyrics and sound of the ghostly visitors.

Berlioz’s review of the premiere was amused that the libretto was ‘constantly sad’ and recommended Dietsch make a clear choice from the many influences on him. Dietsch took much from Hérold’s melodies, Meyerbeer’s orchestration, Bizet’s Symphony, bel canto cantilenas and even Der Freischütz. Le vaisseau fantôme does not seem at this point of listening to be a lost masterpiece with its own distinct musical identity.

The new Der fliegende Holländer is presented (like Deutsche Harmonia Mundi’s 2005 recording under Bruno Weil) in what is becoming called the ‘Paris’ version of the opera – a single act with the three distinct Scottish geographical scenes joined by linking interludes. Senta’s huntsman lover is called Georg, her father Donald; and the bay in which his ship is forced to shelter is Holystrand. The brass-writing is often thicker and heavier – the sudden arrival of the stranger Dutchman in Senta’s house is established with a loud brass and timpani chord – and, starting with the Overture, there are plenty of the ‘tremolando effects’ famously criticised by Berlioz. There is nothing of the later harp-dominated, Tristan-influenced ‘redemption’ in the music at the end of both Overture and final scene, just blunt, rather black chords to represent Senta’s jump.

The matching of Minkowski and his regular orchestra to this repertoire – a period of music they know well and have regularly performed and recorded – is an idea of genius. As in his performances of the Symphonie fantastique (DG) and the Wesendonck-Lieder (with Anne-Sofie Otter on YouTube), he achieves a clever integration of slow tempi within a basically swift framework. Sally Matthews’s Minna has excellent French and well-studied dramatic projection of the role. Evgeny Nikitin’s Holländer ideally balances neurosis with mystery. Minkowski’s players (partly on historical instruments) ensure a lack of the overblown heaviness that mars the recordings of Solti and Karajan.