It’s always nice to put an operetta to an overture. Johann Strauss’s Waldmeister (1895) was a moderate success in its day, but with the exception of the expansive Overture, which makes occasional appearances on New Year’s Day (it was one of Daniel Barenboim’s choices in 2014), it’s now almost wholly unknown, at least in the English-speaking world. And yet this was the Waltz King’s penultimate operetta. Brahms was an admirer: he attended the premiere and reportedly told Eduard Hanslick that Strauss’s orchestration reminded him of Mozart.

You might spot a few other influences, too. Waldmeister refers, apparently, to woodruff: a wild herb used to flavour an intoxicating liquor, which plays much the same role here as champagne plays in Die Fledermaus. The setting is a community of foresters in rural Saxony, and rather like Strauss’s grand opera Ritter Pázmán, it’s drenched in German romanticism, with an attractive flavour of Weber. Hunting horns and forest storms mingle with altogether more Viennese sounds; there’s also a Tennis Chorus (the setting is ‘the present’; in other words, the belle époque), a photography scene and an infectious choral Klipp-Klapp polka – one of several numbers that Strauss repurposed as stand alone dances.

But naturally (and happily) it’s the waltz that reigns supreme, with Strauss playing generously to his own strengths. The glorious waltz melody that dominates the Overture rises to crown the extended Act 2 finale, which, if not quite in the same league as the comparable finales in Fledermaus and Zigeunerbaron, certainly doesn’t fall far short. For this premiere recording Naxos provides a downloadable German copy of Gustav Davis’s libretto, while the CD booklet contains a serviceable synopsis with track-listings. The spoken dialogue is included on the recording, and if you’re not a German speaker, you’ll have to cope with that as best you can. It doesn’t sound particularly theatrical.

But the musical performance is a lot more than serviceable; in fact, it’s often rather stylish. No one could pretend that the strings of the Sofia Philharmonic are the world’s silkiest, and there’s some painful singing in the opening number from the tenor in the minor (and thankfully non-recurring) role of Erich. But once you’re past that, Dario Salvi conducts with lively rhythmic directness. The momentum never sags and the woodwind-playing, in particular, has a real sparkle in its eye. The chorus is energetic if slightly recessed; as for the principals, the women are the most listenable. Martina Bortolotti von Haderburg glows brightest as the opera singer Pauline, with Andrea Chudak bringing a suitably soubrettish glint to her friend Justine, while Annika Egert sings the youthful Freda with a sweet, plangent tone and a tight, brittle vibrato that works well in the context.

None of the men makes quite such an impression but the tenor Daniel Schliewa (Botho) sounds natural enough at all but the highest pitches and volumes. Both Noah Schaul (as the forestry teacher Tymoleon) and Friedemann Büttner as the eccentric botanist Erasmus – a role originally written for the great Alexander Girardi, the Grossmith of Viennese operetta – have flexible, pleasant voices, and they sing with about as much comic characterisation as will bear repeated listening. And I suspect you will want to return to this set, regardless of its rough edges, for the sheer richness and quality of Strauss’s inspiration. Waldmeister is a wonderfully melodious score, and stage productions and alternative recordings are clearly well overdue. Which is not to say that this wholehearted (and necessary) venture from Naxos is anything other than very welcome indeed.