Only Los Angeles could have a Disney Concert Hall and Salonen’s performances here testify to its pristine perfection. There’s an urban slickness about them, a gleaming transparency and fantastic rhythmic precision that seems to preclude any sense of spontaneity or indeed risk. These performances aren’t so much given as manufactured. At least that’s the impression. Vorsprung durch Technik.

Of course, there’s plenty to catch the ear. It’s always good to hear Mussorgsky’s original A Night on the Bare Mountain as opposed to Rimsky-Korsakov’s familiar dilution. It’s bloodless by comparison with Mussorgsky’s rough-hewn grisliness but for all Salonen’s brilliance he somehow irons out the tactical shock-horror of all those loose ends and non sequiturs. And nor does Bartók’s urban nightmare The Miraculous Mandarin ever quite deliver what that monstrous organ pedal (startlingly well caught here) portends in the opening rush-hour. Sure, the clarinet’s sultry come-ons are indecently “knowing” and the hellish pace of the final chase certainly raises the pulse. But there is little barbarism in the slickness. And why not give us the whole ballet? The best music is in the last 10 minutes.

The spirit of The Rite of Spring is similarly compromised by Salonen’s forensic examination. The folkloric primitivism needs to be rougher and readier. Timpani are tasteful, brass don’t cross the line. Yes, I’ve never heard the final chord of Part One laid bare like this, yes the opening of Part Two is incredibly well heard and finessed, yes Salonen’s speeds can be shockingly exciting – but it’s all so well regulated as to be safe as houses. Can the Rite still sound dangerous? Sure it can. Go for the Gergiev recording.