The slight and unassuming figure of Tadaaki Otaka could not be more deceptive, for the authority and dignity he brings to the big symphonic repertoire are immense. And if ever there were a manifest statement of intent, it was in the very opening of this performance of Mahler's Second Symphony: Otaka's baton might have been the sword of an avenging angel, such was the force invested in this gesture. Reassuringly, the expectation raised in those first seconds was thoroughly realised in the ensuing hour and a half.

Otaka brought a taut drama to the fiery ritual of the first movement, creating air and light in the andante moderato and a manic rather than grotesque quality in the central scherzo. A glowing serenity characterised the German mezzo Birgit Remmert's singing of Urlicht, with a heavenly sound on the word "Himmel" - yet it was in the sureness of touch with which Otaka balanced the soundworld of this movement and the accumulating emotional weight of the seven sections of the finale that was so impressive. There were particularly distinguished contributions from the principal flute and trumpet. But, as ever, Otaka elicited eloquent playing from all departments of the orchestra, with Mahler's highly individual instrumental colouring vividly painted.

It's possible to feel slightly cynical about the Jewish-born Mahler's conversion to Christianity, which was essentially pragmatic, but that is dispelled by the patent sincerity of his setting of Klopstock's Resurrection Ode, made ethereal and otherwordly here in the first pianissimo entry of the BBC National Chorus of Wales and Côr Caerdydd. The subsequent outburst of joy seemed a natural outcome of such unalloyed beauty, and as the two solo voices at last soared radiantly above the chorus and orchestra, there was an undeniable spiritual high. Try as he might to give Remmert and soprano Lisa Milne the glory, it belonged to Otaka alone.