By Jonathan Blumhofer

Manfred Honeck and the Pittsburgh Symphony have ways of digging into the music and providing new perspectives on it such that their recordings are, by and large, can’t-miss events.

There’s nothing flashy about the repertoire Manfred Honeck and the Pittsburgh Symphony commit to disc: generally speaking, it’s firmly from the 19th-century symphonic canon and familiar. Yet Honeck and his players have ways of digging into the music and providing new perspectives on it such that their recordings are, by and large, can’t-miss events.

So it is with their new account of Johannes Brahms’s Fourth Symphony. This is one of the most beloved and frequently played of symphonies. Here, though, it sounds entirely fresh and new. How do they manage it?

Partly through some judicious interventions: in the finale, for instance, Honeck has the strings play sul ponticello in the furious variation just after the majestic horn and trombone chorale. It’s an articulation Brahms, to my knowledge, rarely, if ever, used. But in this context, the gesture works, giving that variation a raspy, menacing edge that carries over in spirit (if not timbre) to the subsequent ones.

Much of the time, though, Honeck’s close attention to balances and phrasings, and his take on the meaning behind the notes, carry the day.

The opening movement of this Fourth, for instance, is warm but driven. Phrasings are flexible but, throughout, the orchestra’s playing is rhythmically tight. And, when the moment calls for quiet, they deliver: the middle of the development is marked by an atmosphere that is at once beautiful and mysterious.

In the second movement, Honeck draws a songful account of the opening melody and, what’s more, some incredibly sweet-toned and elegant string playing throughout (the divisi low-strings in the movement’s hymnlike episode is perfection itself). Indeed, everything about this performance is warm, well blended, and closely attentive to details of dynamics, balance, and articulation.

The third movement is shapely and agile, the timpani line quite present near the end.

As for the finale, its syncopations snap, the musical line is clearly felt (and directed), and the music’s sense of contrast is epic. To be sure, Honeck draws some huge, bold climaxes from his forces — yet they’re never out of control, dynamically. Near the end, there’s a wonderfully danse macabre–like quality to the orchestra’s playing, while the coda comes across furiously.

Filling out the album is the debut recording of James MacMillan’s Larghetto for Orchestra. Written for Honeck and the Pittsburghers and premiered by them in 2017, it’s essentially an orchestration of his 2009 Miserere for chorus.

Larghetto shares key areas with the Brahms, starting in E minor and ending in E major. Along the way, there are gentle dissonances, echoes of Scottish folk music, plainchant, hints of Renaissance music, and a few other familiar gestures from MacMillan’s oeuvre.

It’s an affecting piece, perfectly accessible and easy on the ears — but knowingly-enough written that one isn’t quite sure where it might turn next. A couple of cloying, film-score-cliché moments near the end (mostly involving suspended-cymbal rolls) aside, Larghetto doesn’t overstay its welcome or overdo anything.

Honeck draws a lush performance from his forces that serves as a soothing balm after the harrowing denouement of their Brahms.

Jonathan Blumhofer is a composer and violist who has been active in the greater Boston area since 2004. His music has received numerous awards and been performed by various ensembles, including the American Composers Orchestra, Kiev Philharmonic, Camerata Chicago, Xanthos Ensemble, and Juventas New Music Group. Since receiving his doctorate from Boston University in 2010, Jon has taught at Clark University, Worcester Polytechnic Institute, and online for the University of Phoenix, in addition to writing music criticism for the Worcester Telegram & Gazette.