Sakari Oramo’s cycle of Nielsen symphonies roars to its conclusion with an account of the Second, The Four Temperaments, irresistibly driven by a fifth – Oramo himself. The choleric hero positively steams into our midst – a Berliozian pirate whose ferocious energy is tamed only by the impassioned lyricism of his more romantic inclinations, namely the second subject.

The sheer zestiness of the outer movements is thoroughly infectious, with Oramo plainly revelling in the rhythmic imperative of this music and his orchestra, the Stockholm Philharmonic, always right on the tip of his baton. If there is an inhibiting element for us the listeners it is the liveliness of the Stockholm Concert Hall, which slightly compromises clarity in the rowdiest tuttis (I raised this in a previous release) – though I admit I want immediacy first and foremost from a recording and the keenest edges are not compatible with a generous hall sound. A terrific performance of a marvellous symphony, though, with the delicious easy-going undulations of the phlegmatic fellow really singing here and the melancholic reaches of the slow movement achieving an almost Brucknerian grandiosity.

Nielsen’s last symphony – anything but ‘semplice’ – is also finely tuned and disturbingly precise, and probably fares better in this soundscape on account of its leaner, meaner scoring. The nursery humour of his ‘second childhood’ has strong parallels with Shostakovich’s last symphony, though it is doubtful that the Russian ever heard his Danish counterpart’s final symphonic musings. The idea of innocence brutally corrupted is common to both, though, even if Nielsen is more explicit about it in the hyperventilating climax of the first movement, which is unceremoniously hijacked by a brass section every bit as disruptive and pernicious as the renegade side drum in the Fifth Symphony. Then there is the ‘throwing all the toys out of the pram’ moment in the second movement, ‘Humoreske’, where the trombone’s glissandos smell worse than you could possibly imagine. But the gravity of the slow movement is matched only by its desolation and I guess the real difference between Shostakovich and Nielsen would be the latter’s anarchic sense of fun: the way he subverts the ‘variation’ option in the last movement and, of course, that two finger salute to Death from two mightily rude bassoons in the pay-off.