Here, the Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra Amsterdam are spirited, lively exponents of The Wild Dove and The Noon Witch. If the performances perhaps lack an edge of sparkle, they are strong on drama, characterisation and energy.

First, however, comes a pleasing interpretation of Dvorák's Eighth Symphony. Composed in 1889, the work follows the introspective turbulence of the Seventh Symphony and precedes the difficult grandeur of the Ninth, its folk tunes, easy melodies and light humour only momentarily defiled by gasps of sorrow and tragedy. It's a wonderful work, pleasurable to hear yet also fascinating to examine for its unusual stylistic constructions. The final Allegro is a traditional set of variations, but the opening two movements are unusually set out, as elusive to the intellect as they are pleasurable to the ear.

Yakov Kreizberg leads his band with vigour, digging deep into Dvorák's intricate score to uncover every thread. The orchestra, in turn, play firmly and accurately. The strings can sound rather scrawny in the more taxing passages, but their resonant, raw power elsewhere sits well in this symphony; the cello tone is luxurious, especially in the lyrical solos of the outer movements. My only major quibble with this interpretation is the rendition of the Adagio, in which a couple of passages sound suspiciously like longeurs, for all the ease and beauty of the ensemble delivery. But then, elsewhere, Kreizberg strikes an excellent balance of fast and slow, happy and sad, loud and soft, notably holding back the dynamic in the final movement's second half, lending the music a nobility and hymn-like grace, before the Più animato gift-wraps the performance in the most colourful, rampantly virtuosic style.

And then onto the two symphonic poems. The Noon Witch opens with a scene of domesticity, the woodwind here shapely and evocative. Yet the tale's increasing agitation is also handled well, and the witch's arrival is momentous, the wafting string quavers and sinister bass clarinet drones conjuring a magical, devilish sound world. The whole performance is superb: pictorial and grotesque, culminating in the most fiendish of scherzos and a descriptive, dramatically arresting finale.

The orchestra plays wonderfully, and is no less good in The Wood Dove, which balances jubilant celebratory wedding music (rather maniacally played here, reminiscent of the ironically happy movements of Tchaikovsky's later symphonies) with the hallucinatory, mysterious calls of the title bird. The harp is brilliantly angular, its shards of sound sounding like the clanking of broken glass; the flute tone, having been light and luminous in the symphony, now menaces. The orchestra's performance is captured in very, very good sound, Pentatone's Multichannel mastering reaping great rewards. These are admirable performances, worthy of one's great consideration.

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