It’s amazing to think that Simon Rattle’s previous recording of Mahler’s late, great symphony of song dates from over two decades ago. With Thomas Hampson as one of the soloists, that version joined the small number of recordings to take advantage of Mahler’s alternative casting. This new live recording, happily, offers a mezzo (admittedly not quite the prescribed alto) instead, in the shape of Magdalena Kožená. Stuart Skelton tackles the tenor solos, a decade since his first recording them – coincidentally opposite Hampson.

But what is perhaps most immediately striking is the detail and brilliance of the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra’s playing. Every flutter-tongued quiver and celesta-lined shiver in the score comes across with a vividness that outdoes the earlier CBSO recording. Rattle’s own approach has matured noticeably in the interim, too, now pushing more to the extremes, more daringly plumbing the depths, allowing itself to linger on the bursts of autumnal sunlight that suddenly break out. Listen to the yearning gorgeousness we get in the central section of ‘Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde’ (from about the four-minute mark), for example – helped by terrific solo playing, from the cor anglais in particular. There’s an especially melting, relaxed quality at the heart of ‘Der Trunkene im Frühling’, too.

Both moments are helped by Skelton’s sensitivity. The voice is sounding a little less focused these days, perhaps – and lacks the steel of Peter Seiffert on Rattle’s earlier recording – but he still makes a fine, handsome sound and offers something special in his moving reactions to the poetry. Kožená in her songs offers singing of supreme beauty. In fact, she sings almost too beautifully at times: she occasionally feels a little cool, and is not quite willing or able to indulge in the blank, vibrato-free effects we get from some in ‘Der Abschied’, for example. But taken on its own terms this is artistry of the highest level, and ultimately deeply moving.

Despite Kožená’s fine performance, though, in Mahler’s vast final song, it’s Rattle’s achievement that arguably makes the strongest impression. The playing is again superb (particularly the solo oboe), and Rattle manages the half-hour span with masterful control, no better than in the desolate soundscapes of the middle section (from around 16'00"), where clarity and patience help to build a sense of devastatingly quiet, heavy power. Not a conventional Lied, perhaps, but a fascinating and beguiling one: highly recommended.