SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Amid the clamor as the San Francisco Symphony warmed up for this concert at Carnegie Hall, out floated the luxurious line of the principal trumpet, Mark Inouye, practicing the solo that later grows to a throaty choral finale in Mahler’s Second Symphony. As omens go, this one turned out to be more accurate than some, with conductor Michael Tilson Thomas leading the ensemble in a glorious reading.

In the opening “maestoso,” Tilson Thomas seemed unusually deliberate, even slow, with precise attacks. Perhaps some in the audience were lulled into a mild torpor, making the composer’s sudden outbursts even more effective. The audience was unusually quiet, until the movement ended with a small burst of applause, after which Tilson Thomas turned to gaze at the audience as if mildly amused. The second movement showed off the orchestra’s rich strings and fat brass tone in a gentle reading, again with a smattering of applause at the close.

The sinister middle movement, fast and slithery, showed Tilson Thomas in economical mode, coaxing gigantic volleys of sound with minimal hand gestures. Wonderful touches were everywhere: a romantic trumpet solo, a playful spray of winds, and some superbly timed percussion accents. At the end, mezzo-soprano Katarina Karnéus entered without a break, delivering a tender, gleaming, rapturous “Urlicht,” with a delicate ending that gave no clue of what would follow.

It was almost exactly an hour into the concert when Tilson Thomas triggered the explosion that opens the vast finale. Offstage brasses were perfectly judged—faint echoes bathing an imaginary countryside—and in general, the contrasts were theatrically effective. The Westminster Symphonic Choir, made the most of its dramatic entrance, at a tempo that let the audience savor its refinement. (This group is often used for the choral part when visiting orchestras are in town.) When Karnéus and soprano Laura Claycomb joined in, their heartfelt contributions only added to the sense of occasion, as Tilson Thomas gently, patiently paved the way for the drama in the closing pages. He found exactly the right approach here, steadily bringing the forces aloft, making the most of Mahler’s brilliant pacing, without unduly milking the big moments. It was a Mahler “Resurrection” that unfolded as naturally and ecstatically as one could want.

In the café downstairs before this concert, one of the concierges was beaming, saying she was “very happy” because she was giving her daughter a 16th birthday party tomorrow. A part of me hoped she had been able to sneak in to the hall, perhaps to start her celebration early.