Despite the academic narrative that suggests opposing aesthetics, the pairing of the Brahms and Berg Violin Concertos makes perfect historical sense, Berg’s anguished tribute In Memory of an Angel 
to Alma Mahler’s daughter, who died aged just 18, representing a logical extension of the late Romantic sensibility from which the Second Viennese School took its lead. But French violinist Renaud Capuçon’s performance of the two works, conducted by fellow 30-something Daniel Harding with the Vienna Philharmonic, almost makes Brahms sound postmodern compared with the merely “modern” Berg, courtesy of the vastly different characters that he brings to each of its three movements.

Technically excellent throughout, the first movement of the Brahms faffs about interpretively for nearly its entire 22-minute duration, not really engaging the emotions, until the Kreisler cadenza (so much spikier and self-conscious than the usual
 Joachim one) suddenly resolves into the most sublime conclusion imaginable. The slow movement then continues in the same
 vein, making it a candidate for a standalone Swoon compilation. Then the finale sounds like it’s had its structure rearranged by Picasso in his cubist phase, passages of clashing genres and rhythmic gear shifts being emphasised (à la Boulez with Mahler) rather than reconciled. And despite the balancing influence of an English conductor and Viennese orchestra, it sounds very French – astringent in tone as if only a step away from Tzigane. There is passion here, undoubtedly, but of the coldest, “ow-do-you-zay, ze most Gallic kind”, making the disc’s second concerto a kind of Ice- Berg, easier to admire than to love, impressing and generating applause while never inducing any particular desire to empathise. It’s too busy being excellent musically to focus listener attention on the grand themes of human mortality and the hopes, dreams, and tragedies that drive us all.