There can be few more thrilling sights to conclude an orchestral concert than when the eight horn players rise to their feet (here a little later than instructed in the score) for the unbridled coda to Gustav Mahler’s First Symphony. And there can be few more thrilling ways to crown the nuptials of the London Symphony Orchestra and their new Chief Conductor Sir Antonio Pappano before they head off on a 12-concert honeymoon to Japan, Korea and China.
Mahler was a man of the theatre, director at the Vienna Court Opera for a tumultuous decade (1897-1907). Although he never composed an opera, theatricality oozes through his symphonic music. Unlike his LSO predecessor, Pappano is a man of the theatre too and the smell of the greasepaint was never far away from this staggering Mahler 1, suitably greeted by the roar of the crowd.
Animation levels were high from the very beginning, woodwind birdsong chirruping and chattering as our wayfaring lad set off ebulliently through the forest, although menace lurked audibly in the shadows. Pungency was the watchword in the inner movements: aggressive string attacks in the earthy Ländler; peppery E flat clarinet interjections in the klezmer outbursts that interrupt the third movment’s lugubrious funeral march.
The vehemence that launched the rip-snorting finale nearly detonated the timpani as Pappano wrung every last drop of drama from Mahler’s score. The performance wasn’t without its tender moments, but this was undoubtedly one to set the pulses racing.
Pulses raced in the opener too, Karol Szymanowski’s rarely heard Concert Overture, a dozen minutes of overheated Strauss imitation, priapic brass in rampant Don Juan mode. All good, filthy fun and securely packed in the luggage for further performances in Tokyo, Seoul and Shanghai.
Also joining the LSO and Pappano for the Far East tour is megastar pianist Yuja Wang, possibly more of a mixed blessing. Although technically polished, her Rachmaninov on Sunday was strangely disengaged and interior. Here, things seemed a little more relaxed in Chopin’s Piano Concerto no. 2 in F minor, even with an appreciative glance across to Principal Bassoon Daniel Jemison in his solo in the tender Larghetto, where Wang’s playing was feather-light but without affectation. In the outer movements her phrasing was characterful – like operatic recitatives – with a touch of playfulness in the finale, even if not everything always gelled.
Encores are usually a fair indication of her disposition. On Sunday, a single, restless flurry of Mendelssohn; here, after a 30-second sliver of Boulez, Rachmaninov’s G minor prelude, impetuously dispatched, a shimmering Philip Glass Etude and yes, a hint of a smile.
