Berlin Philharmonic/Sir Simon Rattle, Philharmonie Hall, Berlin

Herbert von who? Sir Simon Rattle's debut as chief conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic transfixed the demanding home audience. Rob Cowan was there

There we were, seated in the belly of Berlin's gold-tinted Philharmonie concert hall. A hundred microphone leads hung above us like so much rigging, while the cranked-up automaton that invades part three of Thomas Adès's disquieting Asyla raged relentlessly. Sir Simon Rattle had premiered the work back in 1997 and he bravely chose it to open his first concerts as chief conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic. The audience was transfixed, and the orchestra not exactly of a single mind. Some players seemed disconcerted, even confused, while others – the boys on the big drums, for example, who between them would soon raise merry hell – were plainly having a ball.

The choice of repertoire was auspicious. Today's Berlin hungrily embraces the new. Outside the hall the towering blue glass crescent of the Deutsche Bank building stands next to the Sony Centre with its vast bladed dome. At ground level, a dazzling open-air exhibition of geographical prints from around the world draws appreciative onlookers. There are skateboarders and street musicians – and a prominent new face on the block. A series of "Welcome Sir Simon" posters finds the Philharmonic's latest hero beaming gleefully in front of his new musical domain. And if Sunday's concert – one of three marking Rattle's debut after taking up his place as chief conductor and artistic director – was anything to go by, the welcome is sincerely meant. Yes, there was "atmosphere" and, of course, a palpable sense of occasion, but what really mattered was Rattle's rostrum charisma and the way the audience reacted to it.

The concert had started unexpectedly late, and the orchestral seating arrangement was by no means the norm for Berlin. Rattle's preferred layout reaches back beyond Abbado and Karajan to an earlier generation of conductors who regularly opted for antiphonally divided violin desks, with cellos supporting the first violins, violas supporting the seconds and basses on the left.

This was a real boon in the concert's main attraction, Mahler's Fifth Symphony. But Asyla made an impression that was both instant and, if I guess correctly, indelible. There were the high-crying brass and boogie-style bassoons in the first movement, and then the falling cadences of the second, especially powerful near the close, where the sickly surreality of Adès's string writing took on a fatty, almost glutinous texture that greatly aided its effect. The Berlin Phil "sound" was certainly pulling its weight, and Rattle evidently knew how to use it. "That was beautiful," someone said behind me. When Rattle left the stage to summon – no, to collect – Adès from the audience, there were roars of approval. The two men stood side by side, Rattle smiling gratefully, Adès somewhat stunned, like a shy alien unwillingly brought to earth.

A quick vox pop survey during the interval was revealing. "Asyla left a very deep impression on me," said one Philharmonie regular, "and I liked the mix of contemporary and classical elements in the piece. It's very well composed." I asked another whether she thought the work well chosen for the occasion. "What, here in the Berlin of Herbert von Karajan?" she chortled. "But it's easy to forget that Karajan also loved working with young artists." A third commented on Adès's blend of Eastern and Western tone colours, especially what he perceived as a certain "Japanese influence"; very much in keeping with the spirit of Berlin at the present time, apparently.

Rattle's famously keen ear revealed a Mahler Five that was very different to Abbado's or Karajan's. And very different to what I'd anticipated, which was something leaner, more attenuated, more nervous perhaps. But the event was momentously big-boned, the first movement's funeral march greeted with lavish ritardandi and ear-splitting climaxes, none more devastating than the desperate last stand of the opening fanfares. Then there were the subtleties, the exquisite quiet retreat of the timpani a little later on, before the tender violin theme, or the quiet timpani-accompanied cello monologue of the second movement.

I could be wrong, but I suspect that in time Rattle will effect minor modifications to his Berlin tone palette, tautening wind lines, or lightening some of the string textures. On Sunday I sensed him revelling in the richness of his new instrument for its own sake, so fulsome and garish was the effect, particularly in the anguished second movement (not always tidy and with some loudly coagulating textures), which became Edvard Munch's The Scream draped in furs. Very much decadent fin de siècle.

The scherzo was interesting in that the lead horn – a key component – was granted soloist status at the front of the stage. I'm told it was that fêted Mahlerian Willem Mengelberg who first came up with the idea; a good one, especially if the player (as here) has a tone the equal of six. The adagietto fourth movement opened to the softest of pianissimos. And it moved so beautifully, very much the simple love song it is, broadening only for the rapt last paragraphs and building again for an aching last climax where the basses sawed a communal growl worthy of Furtwängler. Rattle's finale had tremendous impetus, the fugal passages racing along hungrily, culminating in a blazing brass-topped coda.

The audience's response was deafening, but Rattle seemed almost too humble to face them: he'd rush off stage, then on again as quickly, evidently content to leave his players basking in the applause. Only later did he return long enough to weave his way through the orchestra and pick out this or that musician for individual credit.

Sunday's Berlin Mahler was full of daring. OK, there were faults: the odd spot of applied charm that didn't quite come off (specifically near the end of the scherzo), or the occasional misjudged balancing. No doubt if Rattle were to repeat the exercise in five years' time the results would be more focused, though not perhaps as spontaneous. It will be interesting to hear how those hanging microphones chronicled the event when EMI rush-releases this powerful and provocative performance on CD.

Sir Simon Rattle will conduct the Berlin Philharmonic in Mahler's Fifth Symphony at the Royal Festival Hall, London SE1 (020-7960 4242) on 12 October as part of their European tour. They will perform works by Bruckner and Schoenberg on 11 October