Symphony No. 2 is one of his big muscular works. It has never previously been recorded commercially. The three movements run to three quarters of an hour. The first is Tchaikovskian and opens darkly but before long one of Miaskovsky’s vital cantering figures asserts itself and returns throughout the movement to drive it forward. Trumpets and horns bray outrageously (and gloriously) and if I mention Scriabin’s symphonies, Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky’s Francesca da Rimini and Symphony No. 5 it is only to give you a few reference points. The ascent and scream of despairing pain from the trumpets in the closing bars is staggering.

The second movement is quieter and has a gentle line in faltering lyricism and bel canto. From 7:30 on Track 2 the Russian brass exult in a passage of despairing intensity. The mood is very concentrated and the instrumental lines are beautifully delineated. The movement may well be a few minutes longer than it ought to be but everything is lovingly done. A strange British echo is to be found in the gentle woodwind theme which seems to be about to collapse into Delius’s Hassan music.

The last movement seems about to launch a fugue but soon returns us to the world of heaven-vaulting desperate Scriabinesque climaxes. An angular theme darts back and forward. Trumpets call piercingly and fortissimo from craggy heights. The orchestra seem to have this intense tempestuous music in their bones. Not for once is there any suspicion that this is a time-serving catalogue filling exercise. Another British work came to mind this time: the cataclysmic Bax Second Symphony dating from the early 1920s. At 3:00 (Track 3) there is a theme which will make us wonder how well Khachaturyan knew this symphony at the time he was writing the famous Spartacus adagio. If we are hyper-critical the movement may again go on for longer than its material justifies but it does so gloriously and with no lack of confidence. The ending is perhaps rather perfunctory given all that has gone before.

The precision and unanimity of attack is remarkable in this performance by the State Symphony Orchestra of the Ministry of Culture conducted by the bright-eyed Gennadi Rozhdestvensky. The recording has great depth and amplitude.

Symphony No. 22 is in a single track of 35:22. Out of primeval depths arises a lightning strike attack by the cascading strings singing briefly a theme reminiscent of Rachmaninov’s third piano concerto. Once again Miaskovsky comes up with one of those cantering open air tunes - this time with something approaching urbanity. We have to remind ourselves that this work was written during the USSR’s Great Patriotic War against Hitler. At 3:40 (track 4) a great theme of nostalgic moment appears. Miaskovsky is a master of subtle emotion. Little wonder if Lara’s theme from Dr Zhivago might well have been inspired by it. The theme returns on solo French horn at 7:00. Svetlanov is something of a Miaskovsky specialist. Listen to the way he paces and accents the gently shuddering progression of the big theme at 9:11. Sheer magic. The following Largo is a miracle of mood-concentration. The strings develop great tension from 20:00 to 23:00 when the braying brass carol over the strings in a moment which recalls moments in the finale of the Moeran symphony. We are held over the chasm again at 24:02 with brassy Mussorgskian grandeur. A quiet fanfare at 26:04 sounds remarkably Baxian leading into a clattery iron-clad decisive march with a warlike oil-stained and cordite-smoking edge. The pizzicato episodes remind me of Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances which date from exactly the same year. The raucous march returns topped off with Baxian fanfares. Whirling strings provide a bed for the high trumpets and deeper brass. The trumpets hold the nostalgic theme high up to the sun in glorious but grieving victory. All subsides into an epilogue before shuddering strings and celebratory brass and drums toll out the end of this fascinating work. I wondered about the provenance of this recording. I suspect this was previously issued by EMI during the early 1970s.

If you have tried Glazunov and found him rather loose and undemonstrative then give these two symphonies a try. The disc is generously full. At 79:51 it could hardly be more so. Certainly I cannot imagine you having a better introduction. Those looking for a what-next experience after having ransacked Tchaikovsky’s lockers need look no further. These are not time-server performances. They are projected by musicians who take the music seriously and play it in deadly earnest and without hint of apology.

Robert Barnett