The BSO players were primed and ready for the drop of James Gaffigan’s baton and the initial soaring surge of Richard Strauss’s Don Juan.

In thrillingly lush sounds, the romantic escapades of the Don were packed with pulsating impetus, though without a little tenderness it would seem just a brash bash. From the oboe of Edward Kay came the richest of timbre introducing an episode of tranquillity, but not for too long!

Mahler’s Symphony No.7 opens forebodingly; a stilted introduction with tenor horn invoking ‘a voice of nature’. Fanfares and birdcalls eventually imply the blossoming of spring within the dark frame of forest.

The first Nachtmusik revealed rattling bones as soldiers gathered for a final parade. Gaffigan ensured Mahler’s fleshing-out of the orchestral ensemble remained coherent.

The Scherzo is barely less nightmarish with odd solos popping out of the texture like some ghostly fairground ride. And a duly distorted waltz brought further imaginative intrusions.

The second serenade (Nachtmusik) drew gentle sounds from guitar and mandolin relaxing the pace. Maybe there’s a poker face to Mahler, but I reckon he possessed a wicked sense of fun and the frenetic finale lit up the hall with a blistering blast from timpani and trumpet.

Driving home with parodies and propulsive punch lines that demanded virtuosity drawn on enduring stamina, the BSO have certainly got what it takes!