In recording his Mahler cycle in Amsterdam there was a sense in which Riccardo Chailly was bringing coals to Newcastle. That orchestra’s active Mahler tradition pretty much guaranteed the success of the project and with top-notch Decca sound too. In Leipzig, where Chailly assumed the position of Gewandhauskapellmeister at the start of the 2005/06 season, things were rather different. Mahler himself served a two-year stint from 1886 as second-in-charge at the city opera house but Chailly needed all his crusading zeal to bring the composer to the heart of modern concert life. The present DVDs preserve the opening and closing nights of the Leipzig’s high-powered, multi-orchestra International Mahler Festival held last May. While coasting through the music would never be an option for these mainly local performers (the Gewandhaus had only twice previously given the Eighth, in 1950 and 1985), their thorough preparation bears fruit in what must be some of the ‘cleanest’ Mahler ever delivered to a paying audience. In both symphonies the 1980s venue and functional camerawork make for a rather antiseptic visual effect when the focus moves away from the maestro himself. However, the clarity, range and depth of sound, allied to the exceptional quality of the singing and playing, are certain to impress.

Interpretatively speaking, Chailly’s Resurrection is unashamedly mainstream, more straightforward than Bernstein’s, sunnier and more muscular than Abbado’s, with forthright contributions from harp and percussion. Typically, the first movement ends with a downward plunge neither precipitate nor interminably drawn out. During the general pause that follows, the vocal soloists join those already onstage. The inner movements are articulated with remarkable precision even if some will consider their shadowy corners overlit. A sign of emotional detachment? Perhaps so; still, the excellent Sarah Connolly provides a lovely, intimate reading of the ‘Urlicht’ and there is no lack of tension as the epic finale crashes in. A momentary lack of unanimity with the offstage brass hints at human frailty in an otherwise startling, almost forensic display. The first choral entry is daringly slow and beautifully modulated. No stranger to the soprano part even if, like Connolly, apparently a late substitute, Christiane Oelze is outstanding too, at once bright and warm. Chailly obtains a moment of silence before thunderous applause.

The performance of the Eighth, at least as fine, is not quite what I was expecting. On rival DVDs in altogether lower-fi, Bernstein and Tennstedt offer more subjective visions. For example, both make a huge unmarked rallentando into the climax of the ‘Veni, Creator Spiritus’, a tactic Chailly eschews until the last moment. In exchanging ceremonial pomp and adrenalin-rush for an unforced, unmannered, surprisingly lyrical approach, Chailly unearths a wealth of rarely heard contrapuntal detail and secures a rare unanimity of response. The solo singers and here purely local choral forces are on the same exalted level as his venerable band, whose dark transparency and unique, late-Romantic sound are, he believes, perfect for these scores. Oelze reappears as a radiant Mater Gloriosa but there are no significant weaknesses in the line-up. That the tenor sounds strained at times is surely the fault of the composer. The symphony’s very opening may strike you as a little cautious, the organ relatively puny, but the choral sonority has real weight and it is fair to say that the sonic impact of the work’s stupefying final pages has never been more faithfully conveyed on disc. The hushed choral singing, with crucial entries always perfectly calibrated, is a marvel in itself, and Chailly permits some unexpectedly regional-sounding woodwind to pep up certain passages in the immense second movement. In short – even if you feel that Chailly’s Mahler lacks a certain emotional chiaroscuro – these renditions must go right to the top of the list on technical grounds, irrespective of sound carrier. You can always switch off the images of the dishevelled maestro and his variously rumpled forces if you prefer to just listen.

For good or ill, Accentus’s artwork showcases the peculiar creations of Leipzig artist Neo Rauch and the annotations play up Mahler’s own Leipzig connections. The issuing company, it seems, is also local, and has gone to town on the presentational aspect, although French readers will note some confusion over subtitles in the booklet for the Eighth. No matter. Both discs are also available in Blu-ray. Strongly recommended.