Last night's programme by the Philharmonia seemed to have been billed as a jubilee concert more by an accident of scheduling than by design. A performance of an Austrian symphony with a Russian conductor and soloists from Germany and Denmark offered little opportunity for flag-waving.

Yet the choice of work was in its way not inappropriate at all to a celebration of something's longevity. Mahler's second symphony, the Resurrection, can be one of the most life-affirming works you'll hear, even though the text at the climax of the choral finale - Sterben werd ich, um zu leben (I shall die, so as to live) - amounts to a fearless acknowledgement of mortality.

It was just a shame that this mammoth work did not quite come off.

It wasn't entirely Vladimir Ashkenazy's fault that the first movement didn't open with as much atmosphere as it might - the sound of someone being led forcibly out of the auditorium created another counterproductive feeling of tension.

But he can take responsibility for some pedestrian tempos and for letting what is usually a very classy orchestra get away with some uncharacteristically sloppy playing.

The brass especially were not on form; the beginning of the fourth movement was better tuned, but Birgit Remmert's warm, burnished mezzo still deserved a more magical introduction.

Still, there was much to enjoy. Ashkenazy can draw a luscious, elastic sound from the strings when required, and there was plenty of colour in the Scherzo especially, as the theme was handed from wheeling, strident clarinets to reticent strings and then all around the orchestra.

In the finale, Inger Dam-Jensen's gleaming soprano complemented Remmert's mezzo well, and the Philharmonia Chorus put heart and soul into the final exhortations. But though thrilling, this climax didn't seem to have been gained as a result of the preceding 80 minutes of musical struggle, and so its triumph rang a little hollow.

Earlier, the Philharmonia's Music of Today series of free contemporary concerts had showcased the Danish composer Poul Ruders, whose opera The Handmaid's Tale arrives at ENO next season.

Two pieces from the 1980s were chosen, introduced by the composer himself and skilfully directed by Martyn Brabbins.

The first, Nightshade, was slight yet effective and evocative. The second, Corpus cum Figuris, was more satisfying; Ruders conjures up several other musical epochs with the barest of suggestions, dabbles in minimalism without getting bogged down, and in all creates a substantial piece from a tiny amount of musical material. Not jubilee material, perhaps, but very much worth hearing.