Nobody present at the “Venezuelan Prom” in 2007 will ever forget it. The kids from the South American slums dazzled us all with their virtuosity and sheer exuberance. Last night the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela brought the Latin American carnival to the South Bank.

It was never going to be possible to replicate that Prom experience — the Festival Hall, with its hierarchical seating and newly gleaming surfaces, just doesn’t have the atmosphere of the Albert Hall. But perhaps more importantly, the South Bank has moved things on. Rather than a one-off event, this opening concert launched a week’s residency of concerts, open rehearsals, symposia and other public happenings.

And if the long queues for returns and the electricity in the air last night are anything to go by, there could be many changed lives by the end of the week.

Is all the hype justified? Just how good are these players and their conductor Gustavo Dudamel? Well, last night we had two big works: Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No 4.
What hits you immediately with the SBYO is the in-your-face presence of the music-making.

Everything is larger than life: the fast passages are faster than you think they could ever be played, and the brass in full cry could singe your eyebrows at 50 paces.

Indeed they seem blissfully ignorant of EU regulations relating to noise levels on concert platforms. Not only is the Festival Hall stage crowded to overflowing — eight horns, six trumpets, six trombones — but they are encouraged to play at ear-splitting volume. The Bartok begins with a muted introduction. When the strings were eventually let loose, the effect was positively searing. The fourth movement has a parody of Shostakovich: here the trombone raspberries were riper than ever, the chattering laughter of the strings and wind as irreverent as only the youthful can be.

If the Bartok was a performance for which the description “high-octane” would be a serious understatement, the Tchaikovsky blew the roof off.

The Russian’s grappling with Fate was portrayed in bright poster colours, with extreme tempos and sharply pointed articulation. The middle movements thankfully explored warmer registers and even delicate shadings.

So, you could reasonably ask for more refined tone (which many of these players will no doubt develop in due course) and more subtlety in interpretative matters (though Dudamel demonstrates greater maturity when conducting better established orchestras). But that’s not what the SBYO and El Sistema — its social programme for educating the underprivileged through music — are about.

This music-making had a spontaneity and a sense of joy rarely encountered on the classical platform. And when the players donned their red, blue and yellow tops for their two signature Latin American encores, complete with Mexican waves, twirling instruments and party-time high jinks, we came as close to the Prom experience as we’re ever likely to at the Festival Hall.

By the end the entire audience was on its feet. Except the critics, of course.
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