Riccardo Muti and the Vienna Phil: Dvořák glows in the golden Musikverein

Watching the Vienna Philharmonic’s eight double basses lined up along the rear of the Musikverein stage is a joyous sight. Led by Ödön Rácz – who often seems to play by pugnaciously rocking his instrument back and forth rather than by moving his bow! – they provide a sturdy foundation, their position behind the woodwinds and brass literally enveloping the orchestra in string sound. In their account of Dvořák’s New World Symphony under the hawk-eyed Riccardo Muti, that burnished string sound was especially wonderful.

Muti debuted with the Vienna Phil in 1971 and he has conducted them over 500 times. Their relationship feels like a comfortable pair of cosy old slippers – they know how this music goes, he knows they know how the music goes and he trusts them to play it without too much fuss or intervention.

And my, they know how to play Dvořák 9! This was an expansive performance (48 minutes, including the first movement exposition repeat) but full of incident and satisfying detail. The powerful brass never swamped the rest of the orchestra, even in the dynamic swells that brought the first movement coda to an exciting close. Rabble-rousing in the Scherzo – the final chord earning an approving nod from Muti – the brass contributions to the finale, launched fiercely by the double bass team before a gorgeous clarinet solo from Matthias Schorn, were thrilling.

But it was the Largo that was the highlight of the evening. Wolfgang Plank’s creamy cor anglais theme was milked for all its worth, Muti bringing out the accompanying string detail like a watery shimmer. The movement’s dying moments, where Dvořák scales the instrumentation down to ten strings, then to a string quartet, were luminous, glowing embers that seemed to echo the Großer Saal’s golden lustre.

If Dvořák’s Ninth was the perfect fit in the Musikverein, Mozart’s Jupiter beforehand was unfashionably well-upholstered. Historically-informed performance practice has left the Vienna Philharmonic largely untouched – hard timpani sticks made little impact – and their account of K551 was carved from granite. Or perhaps marble, because the sheen of the strings – 26 violins – was undeniably very beautiful.

Tempi were unhurried but the playing was well balanced and rhythmically alert, apart from the Menuetto where, although Muti beat one-in-a-bar, it felt more like a waltz, a hangover perhaps from his New Year’s concert last month. In the intricate finale, Muti’s moderate tempi permitted clarity rather than the adrenalin rush of period instrument speeding, every strand of the fugue audible, building to an exultant climax. This was chocolate box Mozart for a chocolate box hall, but why not indulge in calorific craving once in a while?