Saint-Saëns’s Organ Symphony has long been a showcase both for engineering prowess and for the capabilities of one’s hi-fi kit. Charles Munch’s white-hot 1959 recording, for example, was emblazoned with ‘A Stereo Spectacular’ on the LP cover – and the sound really did live up to the hype (RCA, 11/60). This new Pentatone release takes us yet another step closer to audiophile nirvana, providing a natural concert-hall perspective that balances clarity and atmosphere while capturing the full power of organ and orchestra with stunning, floor-rumbling power. Yet it’s the score’s quieter passages that impressed me most. Listen at 6'44" in the Adagio, where Saint-Saëns combines the organ part with both bowed and pizzicato strings – like sunlight filtered through stained glass – or, at 0'34" in the finale, to the breathtakingly exquisite texture of divided strings with arpeggiated piano (four-hands).

The performance itself is very good, although not in the same class as Munch’s. Still, Kazuki Yamada’s tempos are close to the composer’s metronome marks and he keeps things moving without pushing too hard. I like the smiling solemnity he brings to the Adagio and the easy swing of the scherzo-like third movement. The Suisse Romande Orchestra don’t play as tautly as the Utah Symphony do for Thierry Fischer (Hyperion, 1/19) – the rustling semiquavers in the opening Allegro moderato are a bit messy – but, in general, Yamada provides sufficient excitement, delicacy, grandeur and radiance where they’re required.

Christopher Jacobson is very much an ensemble player and the reedy, Cavaillé-Coll-like splendour of the organ in Geneva’s Victoria Hall is just right for this music. It suits Poulenc’s G minor Concerto, too; and even if Jacobson’s performance lacks the visionary intensity of Maurice Duruflé’s (EMI/Warner, 6/62), recorded under the composer’s supervision, it’s potent nonetheless. The way he revels in the massive sonorities of the Allegro giocoso (listen starting at 1'11") gives me gooseflesh, for instance, and I love the sweet melancholy he and Yamada find in the Très calme section (at 3'01" on track 8). As an encore, Jacobson takes us on a leisurely, celestial stroll through Widor’s well-worn Toccata that’s very much like the composer’s own 1932 recording – though, of course, in demonstration sound.