Philharmonia Orchestra / Ashkenazy NCH, Dublin. Sibelius – Karelia Suite. Violin Concerto. Rachmaninov – Symphony No 2.

There was an air of neutrality in Vladimir Ashkenazy’s handing of Sibelius’ evergreen Karelia Suite with London’s Philharmonia Orchestra at the National Concert Hall.

His approach was one of not forcing anything on the music. The opening Intermezzowas stately, and after the violins' soft-velvet opening to the Balladethere were some moments when the proto-minimalist in Sibelius came to the fore. The suite's most famous movement, the closing Alla marciawas a little cool, a result of Ashkenazy always eschewing sweetness or sentimentality in favour of nobility in the shaping of melodic lines.

Composure was the order of the day in St Petersburg-born, German violinist Alina Pogostkina’s account of Sibelius’ Violin Concerto. And the Sibelius concerto is a work in which composure is difficult to achieve.

Pogostkina steered clear of what you might call the scorched rubber effect that’s so popular in this work – searing intensity of tone, hot smoke obscuring clarity in the most gutsily demanding passages – in favour of an approach that emphasised the music’s bleak and lonely atmosphere.

Yes, her playing had a kind of smouldering passion, too, but it was almost classical in its poise, and hugely impressive in the way it made light of the most hair-raising difficulties. And Ashkenazy, who sensitively kept the orchestra out of the soloist’s way, was happy to let it blaze momentarily when she was silent.

Anyone expecting the dark textures and patient unfolding that Alexander Anissimov used to bring to the symphonies of Rachmaninov in his time at the helm of the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra will have experienced something of a shock at the directness of Ashkenazy’s approach to the composer’s Second Symphony.

Ashkenazy cast aside most of the anguished neurosis that Anissimov liked to seek out. His speeds were faster, his colours brighter. But, paradoxically, he made the piece seem somehow longer, even a little long-winded, missing out on the almost mesmerising indulgences of Anissimov, during which time could seem to fly. The Philharmonia’s playing was sharp and sure, and particularly impressive in the growling weight and accuracy of the heavy brass.