A deeply satisfying Mahler Third from Ryan Bancroft and BBCNOW at the Proms

A typical piece of advice for an aspiring novelist is that the purpose of a novel’s first sentence is to make the reader want to read the second, the purpose of the second is to make the reader want to read the third, and so on until the end. The equivalent advice could reasonably be given to conductor of the first movement of Mahler’s Symphony no. 3 in D minor: there are so many individual themes and they are so diverse, so strongly delineated and so often repeated that one’s ear craves that each one should lead inexorably to the next. And that’s exactly what Ryan Bancroft and the BBC National Orchestra of Wales achieved at the Proms last night.

Bancroft neutralised the Royal Albert Hall’s tendency to acoustic mushiness by choosing spacious tempi and keeping the string swell on a tight rein. The result was a delicious level of clarity, most particularly in the interplay between the various brass and woodwind sections: never has it been so easy to distinguish individual musical features like those little lead-in scales played by a single wind instrument before a forceful entry; seldom have the ritardandi before big entries had such a telling effect of wanting you to hear more. The responsibility for driving the movement forward passed seamlessly from one section to the next – cellos and basses, horns, trombones, off-stage side drums, whoever – and the momentum never faltered. In its kaleidoscopic variety – the military band, the village fête, a touch of filmic war music, the jauntiness juxtaposed with menace, even the schmaltz – this famously long movement (over 30 minutes of music) passed in a flash.

Bancroft cuts a genial figure on the podium: there are few histrionics, just care, attention to detail and an obvious delight when some phrase turns out particularly well. And indeed, there were many moments to savour, both in that first movement and in the rest of the symphony: the trombone response to the horns’ opening statement, an elegiac trumpet solo, a gorgeous cor anglais solo over cellos, some exceptional percussion playing, with even the pianissimi well defined and clearly audible. Corey Morris’ posthorn solos in the third movement were worth the admission price on their own, a delicious helping of distant nostalgia. Scottish mezzo Beth Taylor was a terrific soloist, with a deliciously smooth and warm timbre and compelling delivery of the Nietzsche text of deep grief and desire for eternity, interplaying well with the horns. The CBSO Children’s and Youth Choruses sang their ‘Bimm Bamms’ lustily, somewhat overpowering their adult counterparts.

Those good things having been said, the performance was by no means perfect. The forward momentum risked interruption by more brass flubs than one might have hoped for. While I appreciate Bancroft’s success in creating clarity and space, the gentleness of the tempo brought me close to losing the thread in the fourth movement. And I would have appreciated more explosive playing in many of the climaxes.

Overall, however, this was a deeply satisfying performance, with a final Adagio that imbued me with inner calm without ever being mawkish or nostalgic. And a the very end of such a huge work, Bancroft can perhaps be forgiven for milking the grandeur of the music for all it was worth.