Prom 52: Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra / Inbal, Royal Albert Hall, London

Moving and memorable Mahler

Senior promenaders with good memories will have relished the prospect of comparing Riccardo Chailly's interpretation of Mahler Three with that of his feted Concertgebouw predecessor Bernard Haitink, who presented the work at the Proms on three occasions, each time with a different London orchestra. But it was not to be. Chailly was indisposed and it fell to another distinguished Mahlerian, the Israeli-born Eliahu Inbal, to take over the reins for his Wednesday Proms debut.

One could, I suppose, speculate endlessly as to how the two interpretations might have differed. But I'm fairly certain that Chailly would have handled Mahler's delicately perfumed second movement with more charm than Inbal summoned, though, to be fair, the beguiling transitions needed to make the music really work demand more rehearsal time than Inbal probably had at his disposal.

Inbal seemed ill at ease, and so did the orchestra, but elsewhere, the overriding impression was of a strong, forceful overview circulating the hall's dome, like "the world" Mahler had first envisaged. The resolute opening was auspicious. Nine horns blaring out the key motto, capped by gunshot timpani and two massive cymbals, then answered by baleful trombones. Inbal's judgement was impeccable, but the real challenge lay in whether he could hold the huge first movement together. And he did, lunging energetically at the fortissimo cellos and basses as the rumbling first episode set in, and making mock-military mischief with principal march episodes.

Occasionally, he would miss the gist of an idea: the side-drummer's lone excursion to the reprise of the opening horn calls, for example, which sounded oddly stilted. But I've yet to hear a more potently expressive account of the movement's long centre-placed trombone solo. If the Minuet second movement had failed to seduce, the Scherzo made immediate amends with bird-like chirping from the woodwinds and dramatic interjections from the brass.

From where I was sitting, I could see the posthorn player pacing the corridor ready for his off-stage solo, which he dispatched most beautifully; but I thought the terrifying last climax, where the first movement's primordial mood suddenly returns, fell short of its devastating target.

The remainder of the symphony is predominantly lyrical, starting with the Nietzsche setting "O Mensch! Gib acht!" (O Man! Take heed!), in which mezzo-soprano Michelle de Young floated each phrase with disarming warmth and fathomless depth of feeling.

Inbal saw to it that the combined Trinity Boys Choir and London Symphony Chorus sat down before the close of the festive-sounding fifth movement, so that they sang their last "Bim-bam" seated and the long finale could enter as quietly as possible. Here, Inbal opted for maximum heat, frequently signalling for more vibrato and pushing the tempo so that this lovingly protracted hymn to peace spiralled ecstatically from climax to climax. It was a moving finale to a memorable reading.

Just one extra thought. Before the performance started, I wondered whether the spectre of Hans Rott, whose recently recorded symphony Mahler freely borrowed from, would gatecrash my unconscious. For most of the time, it didn't. At least, not until the finale, when, quite unexpectedly, Rott stepped in and Mahler's magic disintegrated. "Stolen property?" I thought to myself. I was appalled at my reaction, but then, if a critic isn't honest, what's he worth?