As a child, with a growing interest in classical music, there were two main ways to broaden my listening experience. First, there was the Third Programme (which became Radio 3) which I would sometimes try to record onto an old reel to reel tape recorder by holding the microphone in front of the radio. Then, with a considerable leap in sound quality, there were records. The cheapest records available, allowing a wider listening repertoire, were EMI’s Classics for Pleasure or, occasionally, an imported Soviet label called Melodia.

My main sources of records, for infrequent purchases with saved pocket money, were two shops. Downstairs in WH Smith there was a reasonable range and the occasional sale item but, far more trendy and enticing was a shop named the Left Bank appropriately situated in Paris Street. Here the records were arranged on bare wooden shelving, or rather not the records, just the sleeves. The records themselves were kept behind the counter, in cross-referenced plain sleeves, to be checked for scratches and reunited with their real sleeves on purchase. In both shops, you could also ask to listen to recordings, for which you would be directed either to booths or headphones casually hung on hooks around the shop. It was upstairs in the Left Bank that I discovered the Deutsche Grammophon label and its exclusive orchestra, the Berliner Philharmoniker.

Once heard, there was no going back. This was the complete package that oozed quality and sophistication. The sleeve with its striking cover and iconic yellow badge; the reverse with programme notes often in multiple languages, the record itself holding recordings of superlative quality, verve and musicianship. To top it all, there was the maestro, the superhero, playboy, European sophisticate and musical god, Herbert Von Karajan. The only drawback to this was the price. Deutsche Grammophon records were routinely the most expensive.

Many years of records, cassettes, CDs and Spotify subscriptions later, I finally had the opportunity to hear the Berlin Philharmonic in the flesh. The bus stops conveniently outside the Philharmonie, a distinctive yellow building just off the Tiergarten in Herbert-Von-Karajan-Straße. The easy journey we have just made across town from Prenzlauer Berg would have been impossible when it was opened in 1963 and for another 26 years after that.

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Why had I waited so long for this experience? It was magical from start to finish. Pre-concert drinks in the very sixties downstairs hall watching the Berlin concert goers assemble. Ticket prices are very reasonable compared to similar venues in London and the audience seemingly very cosmopolitan. The auditorium is impressive with wide, comfortable seating, excellent acoustics and good views of the performers. Tonight’s concert under the baton of guest conductor Constantinos Carydis consisted of two Mozart symphonies and Shostakovich’s Chamber Symphony. The performance went beyond already high expectations and all too soon, the audience was on its feet in applause, the players shook each other’s hands and it was all over. I was, however, left with a confirmation; the confirmation of a teenager’s impressions in the Left Bank record shop many years before. This is indeed the best orchestra in the world.