This Cav & Pag might easily pass by unnoticed: recorded live in Graz, it has only one big name to its credit – that of Cheryl Studer, somewhat unexpectedly popping up as Mamma Lucia. But it’s an enjoyable set, and one that represents the recording debut of the conductor Oksana Lyniv, a Kirill Petrenko protégée who took up the reins of Oper Graz in 2017 and is currently due to stay until the end of this season.

Hers is clearly a name to watch, and she conducts both works with an appealing combination of forward momentum and flexibility. These are fresh, unindulgent readings – the intermezzos of each, intimate and contained, offer representative snapshots – that emphasise dramatic punch over grandeur, even occasionally tending towards slight impatience. Both works are played with plenty of zip and character by the Graz Philharmonic.

Cavalleria rusticana, in particular, is movingly done, with fine performances across the board. Aldo Di Toro has plenty of rubusto power and virility in the voice, and makes an urgent, impulsive Turiddu, whose vulnerability is never far from the surface. I miss a bit of richness and mezzo depth in Ezgi Kutlu’s voice but she presents a sympathetic Santuzza who rises to the dramatic high points impressively. Audun Iversen, who I last heard in lyric repertoire nearly a decade ago, has clearly developed impressively and is a charismatic, powerful Alfio. Studer certainly doesn’t let the side down, but again, a bit more mezzo heft is needed for her role.

The Pagliacci isn’t quite on the same level. It’s more noticeably live, with considerably more stage noise, and is a touch rougher round the edges. Iversen is still in fine voice but his Prologue feels a little perfunctory. There’s a vivid sense of bustle in the crowd scenes, though, and Di Toro is persuasive and powerful once more. Aurelia Florian is a lively, mezzo-tinged Nedda, although it’s not immediately clear why she should fall for Neven Crnic´’s undistinguished Silvio (their duet has the traditional cut). With Lyniv at the helm, though, and with the help of some vivid additional screams, the finale has a visceral power to it.

Oehms’s booklet is eccentrically laid out, with libretto and (German only) translation printed consecutively rather than side by side. Production shots give a hint of a grungy, nightmarish production. For better or worse, we have to go without that, but as an audio-only experience, this is an enjoyable and involving listen.