Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla’s follow-up to her Gramophone Award-winning recording of Weinberg’s Second and 21st Symphonies (6/19) couples two of his less headline-grabbing symphonies with the most genial of his six concertos.

With his Third of 1949, Weinberg had yet to find his symphonic stride with complete conviction. The revisions he carried out the following year and in 1959 already testify to that (they serve to emphasise the reflective inwardness that had become one his signature moves). But if nothing else the piece commands attention as one of the finest of its kind from the fraught years of the anti-formalism campaign, with its imperatives to compose music comprehensible to ‘the People’. What elevates Weinberg above the crowd is the way he negotiates between those demands and the higher-level integration and dramaturgy expected of traditional symphonism.

The Seventh Symphony of 1964 followed three of Weinberg’s outstanding masterpieces in the genre (all magnificently recorded by Kondrashin). This time he allowed himself a degree of experimentation, writing with Barshai’s elite Moscow Chamber Orchestra in mind and allowing himself some excursions into Polish-style sonoristics and a blend of symphony and concerto grosso, the latter most evident in the framing harpsichord solos and its quasi-continuo contributions. The inventiveness is strong and the personal voice clear. However, the generic blend is an uneasy one, and the stature of the piece can perhaps only truly be measured against the dozens of chamber-style Soviet symphonies of the 1960s and ’70s that have not stood the test of time.

The Flute Concerto has already been picked up by a number of soloists looking for 20th-century alternatives to Nielsen’s masterpiece. Marie-Christine Zupancic, principal flautist with the CBSO, gives a beautifully clean and unflustered performance (I have heard others spoil the impression by pushing too hard). To say that she and the CBSO can withstand comparison with the dedicatee, Alexander Korneyev, and Barshai’s starry ensemble is the highest praise, though Korneyev’s hypnotic intimacy in the slow movement remains uniquely inspiring.

As for the symphonies, Thord Svedlund’s Chandos recordings stand up remarkably well. Honours are fairly even in the Seventh, and if pushed I would even prefer the Gothenburgers in the Third, for their extra degree of vehemence and ‘attitude’. That said, for those new to this repertoire, DG’s extremely well-filled disc is self-recommending. A blot on the otherwise classy presentation is its description of Weinberg as a ‘Polish-Jewish composer’: this of a man who spent 56 of his 76 years in the Soviet Union and post-Soviet Russia, and who composed 152 of his 154 opus-numbered works there.