As you know, this is a “Mozart year” – the 250th anniversary of his birth – but it is also a “Shostakovich year.”We are celebrating the centennial of that composer’s birth, and one result is a whole mess o’ recordings.

We’ll consider two, both of them symphonic. From EMI Classics, we have the Berlin Philharmonic under its music director, Sir Simon Rattle. On this CD are Shostakovich’s first symphony and his last (No. 14). This is a cute idea. Indeed, the Mostly Mozart Festival at Lincoln Center is doing something similar on July 28, when it pairs Mozart’s first symphony – yes, his very first, written when he was 8 – and his last (No. 41, the “Jupiter”).

Shostakovich was a wise old man of 18 when he wrote his first symphony – he did so to graduate from the Leningrad Conservatory. But this is no student piece (at least not a typical one). It is a mature symphony, and it made its composer world-famous, as well it should have. Shostakovich is recognizably himself in this work: You can hear him – the Shostakovich you know – in every measure.

New York was treated to a superb account of this symphony last March. On the stage of Avery Fisher Hall were Valery Gergiev and the Kirov Orchestra. That performance gripped, even electrified, and Sir Simon and the Berliners do not exactly do the same. They are, of course, elegant and correct, but Sir Simon could give us a little more bite – a little more daring and panache. He sometimes flirts with dullness.

But the Berlin Philharmonic can always be counted on for solo playing, and the first-deskers come through, especially the woodwinds.

The Symphony No. 14 is a song-cycle – that term “symphony” is very elastic – and it is one of the most death-soaked works in all of music. A prominent and experienced critic once told me, “Old people are terrified of that piece – that’s why they leave in the middle of it.” Could be.

In any event, you need two singers to perform this great symphony, or whatever it is: a soprano and a low male voice. And Sir Simon avails himself of two of the most intelligent singers now working: Karita Mattila and Thomas Quasthoff. I can’t vouch for their Russian – she’s a Finn, he a German – but it seems convincing enough. As is this performance as a whole.

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From Warner Classics comes a CD offering the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies. The Fifth remains the most popular of Shostakovich’s symphonies, and it saved his life. (The work won Stalin’s favor, whereas a predecessor had not.) The Sixth is a masterly little – little-ish – symphony, in an unusual form. That is, it starts with a Largo – long, more than 15 minutes – and ends with two, fairly brief fast movements: Allegro and Presto.

Playing on this CD is the St. Petersburg Philharmonic, led by its music director, Yuri Temirkanov. The St. Petersburg can lay claim to being the premier Shostakovich orchestra in the world – and we might make a pun: the premiere Shostakovich orchestra, too.The St. Petersburg forces gave the first performances of just about all of this composer’s symphonies.

Mr. Temirkanov is a fine conductor, reliably musical, although a bit eccentric. Tempos may be strange, for example. But he is usually persuasive, as here. The account of the Fifth is not one for the ages – but it is a good addition to a collection.

And the Sixth is a clear success. Mr. Temirkanov gets under the skin of this score, bringing forth its many, sometimes contradictory, qualities. The Allegro movement has sass and impudence, giving way to majesty, savagery, and other things. The concluding Presto is racing and giddy – powerfully zany. Shostakovich can be a lot of fun, you know (although perhaps not in the Fourteenth Symphony).

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And now for something completely different. EMI Classics has come out with “Music for Queen Mary,” composed by Purcell. Which Queen Mary are we talking about? The one from the late 17th century, who was married to William III (William of Orange). Purcell wrote music for her birthdays, and, sadly, for her funeral – and all of this constitutes some of the best music this great composer ever wrote. It is performed on this disc by the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge, and associated forces, under the direction of Stephen Cleobury.

Mr. Cleobury can be a little sleepy, a little perfunctory, a little short on joy (when joy is called for). Restraint is one thing, passivity another. And, in playing (relatively) early music like this, one must find a way to avoid plodding.

But, overall, this is an excellent CD, enhanced greatly by the solo singers. For example, two countertenors, David Hansen and Tim Mead, are absolutely solid, and when they join together for “Sound the Trumpet,” they are trumpety indeed (and suavely so). A bass with the interesting name of Jacques Imbrailo is as solid as the countertenors, and a soprano with the magnificent name – especially considering the music – of Kate Royal is splendid. She sings with honesty and sincerity, two traditional traits of the British singer, I might say.

The funeral music begins with fearful drums, and a “canzona” – played by “flatt trumpets” (an old double-slide instrument) – is sweetly mournful. The final piece on the disc is a funeral anthem, “Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts.” Prayerful, and not unhopeful, it should not leave untouched any real heart.