The cheers began even before Sir Simon Rattle had walked through the orchestra, rightly judged the best in the world, and mounted the podium. He took over as artistic director of the Berlin Philharmonic exactly six years ago but still the excitement generated when he returns to London is frenzied.

In the first of two Proms, before a historic trip to Rattle’s home city of Liverpool later in the week, the Berliners explored themes of ecstatic love-in-death with Wagner’s Prelude to Tristan und Isolde and Messiaen’s Turangalîla Symphony (1946-8).

Though seemingly aesthetic opposites, these quintessential offerings of German Romanticism and French Modernism made an ideal match. In fact they are linked: Messiaen had the Tristan story in mind when composing Turangalîla, a 10-movement outpouring, heaping layer upon exotic musical layer, which he described merely as “A Love Song”.
Rattle achieved the small miracle of giving us the work as if intravenously, straight from score to ears, always enabling, never steering. He was superbly aided by pianist Pierre-Laurent Aimard and ondes martenot player Tristan Murail, both Messiaen pupils. The riotous fifth movement “Joy of the blood of the stars” and the languorous “Garden of the sleep of love” were free of the saccharine vulgarity too often dolloped on them and the finale made the floor move.

Screeds of words are expended trying to determine analyse the elusive “Berlin sound”. A solid, burnished string tone, with every player consummate in technique and brave in attack, is probably the most inimitable feature but woodwind and brass contribute their own pure timbre.
Has Rattle ruined it? This is the question posited by those desperate for a bit of specious controversy, chiefly because — rightly -—he has encouraged new ways with new, non‑Germanic repertoire.

Hearing the exquisite, saturated yet glowing colours of the Wagner, you see how irrelevant and crass such queries are. Rattle took the slowest of paces, encouraging acidulating dissonances from the woodwind and allowing pauses so long you thought the whole thing might stop. One or two brass entries sounded slightly late. But this is not dressage and who cares. The power of Wagner’s musical furnace crackling into life and consuming us all in its raging heat was overhelming. At this speed the entire opera might last for days, glorious days.

Tomorrow, Berlin Philharmonic/Rattle, Radio 3 & Albert Hall 7.30pm