You don’t associate Arturo Toscanini with the Philadelphia Orchestra. You associate him with the New York Philharmonic, or, more likely, with the NBC Symphony Orchestra, created especially for him. When you think of the Philadelphia, you think of Leopold Stokowski and Eugene Ormandy, whose tenures stretched from 1912 to 1980. (Seriously.)

But, from November 1941 to February 1942, Toscanini conducted the Philadelphia Orchestra quite a bit. He and they left a clutch of recordings. And these have been collected in a new three-CD set from RCA Red Seal. The recordings, we are told, have been “digitally remastered.” The sound is not optimal, but we can assume that it’s as good as it can be.

And every Toscanini fan will want this set. It is recommendable to Toscanini skeptics as well — because the Philadelphia recordings show the maestro at his very best. In these sessions, he is about 75 years old. (He was born in 1867, died in 1957.) And the Philadelphians are the lushest, suavest, most beautiful orchestra in the world. The combination of Philadelphia beauty and Toscanini rigor is formidable.

So, what do we have on these discs? The first CD leads off with a piece that Toscanini returned to often: Schubert’s Symphony No. 9 in C major, the “Great.” As you might expect, this is brisk, clean, hard-driving Schubert. I would invite Toscanini to savor the music a little more. But he has a point of view, and you are never in doubt of it.

Next comes a Strauss tone poem: “Death and Transfiguration.” Strauss was very much alive when Toscanini recorded this piece — the composer would depart in 1949 — but “Death” was an old piece: written in 1889. Toscanini is very sensitive, very intelligent in this music, and he gives the last section — the transfiguration — a steady, inevitable pulse. This is most helpful. What is missing, I would say, is a true transcendence.

The Philadelphia Orchestra, incidentally, shows what a marvelously virtuosic and shimmering band it was. Their publicists called them the Fabulous Philadelphians, and that wasn’t lying.

Disc 2 leads off with Debussy: both “La Mer” and “Ibéria.” I have always thought Toscanini underrated as an Impressionist, for he handled music of this type with utter persuasiveness. (Remember that he knew Debussy, and respected him highly.) He brings to Debussy what he brought to Schubert, Brahms, and everyone else: discipline, keenness, and a loathing for the airy-fairy.

In “La Mer,” Toscanini breathes really well, and the Philadelphians are beautifully balanced. Everything is controlled from the tip of the conductor’s baton. There is more anxiety than you often hear in this piece. You get the feeling that anything can happen on this “mer,” this sea.

And if at times you long for a little more expansiveness — well, you can’t have everything.

“Ibéria” is full of what we critics call “atmosphere,” when we can’t think of a better description. The second section, “Fragrances of the Night,” exudes a nice mystery, and the closing section — “The Morning of a Festival Day” — is jaunty, debonair, and gay. Terrific conducting.

Speaking of festivals, Toscanini next conducts “Roman Festivals,” by his friend Respighi. And this work is exactly what it should be: dramatic and colorful; alive and gleaming. You may especially appreciate Toscanini’s braying humor. Or rather Respighi’s, brought out by Toscanini.

By the way, have you noticed that Respighi has received very little play in our concert halls of late? I have.

Disc 2 ends with an account of the “Queen Mab” Scherzo from Berlioz’s “Roméo et Juliette.” It is appropriately gossamer and fun. In fact, amazingly so.

The third disc leads off with more Shakespeare — Mendelssohn’s Incidental Music to “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Interestingly enough, the Scherzo here is not terribly precise, from a conductor famed, even notorious, for precision. How about the Wedding March? It is jangling and unrounded, in Toscanini fashion. Sure, it’s vigorous, but more majesty or nobility would be welcome.

The disc ends with the pièce de résistance of the whole set: the Toscanini/Philadelphia traversal of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6, the “Pathétique.” In brief, this is a stunningly great recording of a great (and underrated) work. Toscanini did not conduct a lot of Tchaikovsky, but he knew the worth of this symphony, and his understanding of it is clear. His reading is powerful and masculine, bracing and exciting. But it is not without grace. In his hands, the “Pathétique” seems new.

Not all of us are on the Toscanini bandwagon, believing that he could squeeze the life out of music. He could crush it with his mailed fist. But no one doubts that he was a brilliant musician, who accomplished much brilliant work. And as I said at the top, I don’t believe he is shown to better effect than in these recordings with Eugene Ormandy’s orchestra, made just before and just after America entered World War II.