Last month, a Honda-made robot conducted the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. It was a stunt heard round the world. But a colleague of mine quipped, “What’s the big deal? They had a robot conducting the Berlin Philharmonic for years.”

The reference was to Herbert von Karajan (1908-89), who could indeed be robotic. This was especially true in his later years, and it was never truer than when he entered the recording studio (which was often).

Karajan strove for a kind of perfection — his version. And, in doing so, he could squeeze the life out of music. Some of his recordings are downright unlistenable. They are sterile, airless. One thinks of a frieze — beautiful, maybe, and even fascinating. But unmoving, dead.

At least, that’s one opinion on Karajan. There are others. The guy can always start an argument.

But there should be little argument over a “Fidelio” that has just been released by Deutsche Grammophon. This is a live performance from the Vienna State Opera — and “live” is the word. Beethoven’s opera has all of its drama and humanity.

You might say that this is a Karajan recording for those who don’t like Karajan — or think they don’t.

In his liner notes, Gottfried Kraus, who worked with Karajan, says that the maestro would not have wanted this performance released. It is too “imperfect”; control is not absolutely airtight. We are lucky that Karajan was not around to block it.

The night in question is May 25, 1962. You could say that everyone is in his prime. Karajan is 54. His Leonore, Christa Ludwig, is 34 — and this is her debut in the role. Florestan is Jon Vickers, the Florestan of his day — he is 36.

From beginning to end, Karajan is vibrant, engaging, and thoroughly musical. True, things get a little messy — but they are ever theatrical. “Fidelio” is an intensely human opera; this is an intensely human account.

Just a few details about the conducting: Beethoven’s sublime quartet is slowish but taut and enrapturing. The little march that introduces the evil Don Pizarro is crisp, snappy, and slightly sinister. Pizarro’s following aria is fast and gripping. The Prisoners’ Chorus stands on tiptoe, full of wonderment.

And you will want to know that, in Act 2, before the final stretch, Karajan conducts the “Leonore” Overture No. 3, Op. 72a. You will be glad that he does. Yes, this was a banner night for “K,” showing a side of him that some don’t know.

Ms. Ludwig was a mezzo, and Leonore is usually taken by a soprano. So that makes Ms. Ludwig a different kind of Leonore — but she is a satisfying and exciting one. She unleashes startling power on you. (Is there anything like a mezzo’s high notes?) And her technique and intelligence are rightly famed.

Mr. Vickers is not in his best form, and, in fact, Mr. Kraus, in his liner notes, calls him “indisposed” — and yet he sings his heart out. His vocal indisposition makes his Florestan all the more noble, you could say. And the tenor gains strength as the evening wears on.

Pizarro is the bass-baritone Walter Berry (who was married to Ms. Ludwig at this time). He may be a tad underpowered, but he is completely credible. Rocco is Walter Kreppel, a German bass. Karajan cuts his “Gold” aria — but Kreppel makes a very good impression regardless.

Gundula Janowitz is all of 24, and a wonderful Marzelline. This can be a nothing role — but not in the hands of Ms. Janowitz. Her soprano voice is not only beautiful, it’s interesting. And she sings with musical awareness.

Also commendable in a minor role is Waldemar Kmentt, the Austrian tenor. He is Jaquino. And, at the end of the opera, Eberhard Waechter comes along as the noble, merciful Don Fernando and blesses the whole affair.

This recording is part of a series that Deutsche Grammophon is purveying — live recordings from the Vienna State Opera. Another gives us a Karajan performance of Strauss’s “Frau ohne Schatten,” from June 11, 1964.

Ioan Holender, present chief administrator of the Vienna State Opera, has written an introductory note for the “Fidelio” booklet. He says that the recordings in this series prove that “nothing can surpass the experience of live opera” — and he has a point.

There have been many, many recordings of “Fidelio,” including a studio recording by Karajan (1970). This live release should win a place in the collection of all who love “Fidelio” — that immortal paean to marital love, and to political freedom.

This opera is not for robots. And Karajan — certainly on 5/25/62 — was not one.