‘Brilliant, intellectual, honest, uncompromising and eccentric,’ is how HC Robbins Landon once described these Haydn symphony performances, and if that seems like a lot of adjectives to get your head round in one go, it does not take anything away from the truth of them. Recorded in mono for the Westminster company between 1950 and 1953 (with the exception of the 1958 stereo Farewell), these are pioneer perform-ances, not just because they include the first complete cycle of the 12 London symphonies, but because, at a time when precious few took these works seriously, Scherchen granted them the time and care they deserved. The result is not just a worthy acknowledgement of Haydn’s historical importance, but a true realisation of his greatness. Scherchen, one of the 20th-century’s great new-music conductors, turns out to be a classicist of humanity and warmth.

Uncompromising? Probably the most immediately striking characteristic of these performances is their intensity; the opening of Symphony No 80 hits you right between the eyes, and surely few conductors have dared to draw out the opening movement of La Passione with such grief-stricken concentration. There are no powdered wigs in this vision of Haydn, only a direct and unmistakable connection to Beethoven apparent not just in stormy minor-key works, but in just about every other one as well thanks to Scherchen’s urgent dynamic contrasts, clear-cut articulation and strong grip of tempo.

Brilliant, intellectual, eccentric? On the whole, Scherchen does tend to favour slow tempi over quick, certainly in comparison with more recent interpreters. Of the finales, only that of No 80 is in much of a hurry (and what a jaunty little swagger the finale of the Military gains by its measured tread), while there are bold choices elsewhere, such as the first movement of No 104 (where you can just sense the orchestra finding it hard to stick to) or the very slow but nevertheless unflagging Largo of No 88. Scherchen is not afraid, either, to change tempo within a movement: several trios are a fraction slower than their minuets, and the second theme of No 104’s finale also brings a temporary drop in speed.

The more of these symphonies you listen to, however, the less generalisation is possible. Scherchen treats each one on its own terms, and the moment you begin to feel that the minuets are a little heavy-handed in Nos 45, 49 and 80, along comes one with a pleasant swing to it, such as No 95 or No 98. In short, Scherchen is alive to the variety of Haydn’s music and means to show it. Perhaps the only Haydnesque characteristic missing is humour: there are some charmingly Viennese ‘Auf wiedersehen’s from the orchestra in the finale of the Farewell, but the surprise of the Surprise is rushed through almost in embarrassment, and so, too, the bassoon raspberry in the finale of No 93. What we get, though, is an important reminder of how Haydn’s symphonies would have seemed to their first audiences, which is to say big, rich and powerful, and at the edge of modernity. Of today’s interpreters, perhaps only Harnoncourt and Brüggen match Scherchen’s strength of intent.

Neither orchestra is a period band, of course, and good though the basic playing standard is, there is a raggedness of ensemble here and there (the VSO slightly the worse offender) that we would not expect to hear from a specialist chamber orchestra today. The recorded sound is sometimes congested, especially when the somewhat untamed timpani get going, and while you can certainly hear all the parts, the winds can sound a touch distant. Such things would prevent this from being a first choice for Haydn symphony recordings, for sure, but at budget-price these six CDs are certainly worth investing in for a heartening encounter with the real soul of this music.

Honest? In the Andante of the Clock, someone, presumably Scherchen, can be heard chuckling; who among us has not at some time wanted to laugh aloud with pleasure at Haydn’s music?