This new LSO Live disc brings together two of Bernard Haitink’s previously released recordings, presumably in honour of the conductor’s 90th birthday. Pires’s 2013 reading of the B flat major Concerto, while poised and polished, is strikingly short on muscle and daring. Accents and sforzandos are smoothed over, draining the finale of its youthful jocularity, and she even manages to tame the first movement’s wild cadenza. But there’s recompense in lyrical passages, where Pires’s exceptional sensitivity illuminates. She makes magic at the end of the Adagio, for instance, by taking seriously to heart Beethoven’s instruction to play with gran espressione. And Haitink has a few revelations of his own. Note how he relishes the gentle, aching dissonance created when the horns enter in the orchestral introduction to that same movement.

The Triple Concerto, originally issued with Haitink’s Beethoven symphony cycle, finds a happier balance between refinement and vigour. The expansive opening movement is flexibly paced and seems to range over a wider emotional territory than usual – listen starting at 13'20" for a lovely sample of the musicians’ collective suppleness. The rapt, dreamy atmosphere of the Largo is beautifully realised and the finale conveys the requisite swagger. Cellist Tim Hugh shows some occasional strain in his part’s high-lying passages but on the whole the solo trio are excellent.

Erato’s disc comes from concerts recorded at La Seine Musicale, an architecturally striking new performance space on the Île Seguin, west of Paris. Laurence Equilbey’s approach to tempo is considerably less pliant than Haitink’s but her crackerjack period-instrument orchestra play with character and gusto. The solo team in the Triple Concerto, too, are extremely fine. David Kadouch uses an 1892 Pleyel that displays a glorious combination of clarity and warmth. Violinist Alexandra Conunova and cellist Natalie Clien, who use gut strings and are sparing with vibrato, have impeccable intonation. Indeed, Conunova’s tone glistens like sun on the waves of the Seine itself. If only the microphones had not been placed so close to the soloists. Not only is the balance unnatural but there’s hardly any play of light and shade, something that comes through in the LSO recording despite its rather dull sound.

The Choral Fantasy is even more oddly balanced. Pianist Bertrand Chamayou is so closely miked that there’s no sense of him playing softly at all. His piano trills here come across more like alarm bells. Interpretatively, he’s quite straightforward – always musical, but there’s little sense of fantasy. Accentus, Equilbey’s superb choir, and the fresh-voiced solo group are all in fine form. Perhaps the engineers need time to figure out the auditorium’s acoustics – the Choral Fantasy was recorded at the venue’s inaugural concerts. It’s a pity, in any case. Neither performance would be a top recommendation but both communicate a real sense of joy.