Haydn and Mahler, featured in the final concert of Bernard Haitink's latest series with the London Symphony Orchestra, might initially seem an odd juxtaposition. On the surface, Haydn's classical dexterity sits uneasily with Mahler's post-Romantic introspection. Yet the pairing is both apt and logical. They represent the beginning and end respectively of the Austro-German symphonic tradition. Both were innovators. Haydn's cosy reputation as "the father of the symphony" shouldn't blind us to the fact his entire career was rooted in radical experimentalism. Mahler's redefinition of the symphony in terms of his own emotional and philosophical quests was similarly drastic and far-reaching.

Haydn's 96th and Mahler's First formed the programme and hearing them together pointed up Mahler's essential dependence on his predecessor. Mahler's Ländler-ish scherzo has its origins in Haydn's minuet, at once bucolic and poised. Even Mahler's startling opening - a sustained string chord umpteen octaves deep, and still one of the weirdest sounds in all music - can be traced back to the forceful unisons with which Haydn begins.

Both performances were essentially reflective, which prevented the Mahler from sliding towards the self-conscious melodramatics favoured by some conductors. Bringing a lifetime's experience to bear on the work, Haitink remains arguably its most formidable interpreter, taking us on a journey from mysterious awe via manic elation and despair to genuine if hard-won triumph. The First still has the power to shock, and the slow movement, in which a grotesque version of Frère Jacques mutates into klezmer, remains one of the most disturbing passages in his entire output.

Just occasionally, however, Haitink's reflective approach to Haydn leads to a certain cramping of range and mood. The minuet was perfect in its mixture of roughness and poise, the finale matchless in its vigour and exaltation, though the first movement could have done with a fraction more wit. The playing was immaculate.