The weekend of concerts given by the Philadelphia Orchestra in Singapore’s Esplanade concert hall confirmed that the ensemble is one of the world’s greatest and that music director Christoph Eschenbach now belongs in the elite group of conductors, to rank alongside superstars such as Abbado, Muti and Rattle. Less clear however is where to place Lang Lang, who whilst dazzling with personal magnetism in Tchaikovsky’s 1st Piano Concerto, failed to deliver anything resembling genuine musicianship.

Eschenbach brought to the Esplanade’s concert platform on Saturday its first real taste of the überconductor. (Okay, so it’s had Maazel, Mazur and Mehta but all arguably are just at the top of the second division). Certainly it’s difficult to see who could outstrip him in terms of sheer presence on the podium. He exuded on first sight a physical power that seemed almost to border on the mystical as he launched into Dvorak’s Carnival, a typical warm up piece ahead of the main show, but one which turned out to be the highlight of the first evening.

The famous Philadelphia strings, honed out of their Ormandy-era lushness in the 80s by Muti into something altogether more acute, were a revelation. But then again so were the brass, the woodwinds and the percussion. The effortlessly precise ensemble was matched by a phenomenal dynamic balance, that allowed detail to emerge without compromising architecture, even bringing freshness to the Tchaikovsky, a seemingly impossible feat to pull off on the old warhorse.

Here Lang Lang delivered a performance of grotesque self-indulgence, surpassing himself in willful perversity with a string of what amounted to little more than “look at me” tricks. So we had the unexpected sudden pianissimo amidst the fortissimo chords, the irritating illogical sforzandi, the slowing of the pace to a practical standstill in the cadenzas. He has a remarkable ability to draw the audience into his performance but that’s the problem: it was all about Lang Lang, even down to the velvet collared designer tux and not too much about Tchaikovsky.

I realized then as I studied the bizarre freak show of his facial mannerisms why his recorded performances are so curiously unaffecting despite the individuality of the performances, and that of course is that he’s not there to provide the extraordinary visuals.

Eschenbach should have talked Lang Lang out of the ludicrously slow pace the pianist chose for the second movement, which was devoid of forward momentum although there were moments of poetry and delicacy of tone. Overall though, his sound lacked depth and was spiked with ugly banged notes, particularly during the bizarre rhythmic interference he inflicted on the third movement. Using very little peddle, he hammered the chords out, emphasizing upbeats and the musically insignificant notes, destroying the line of the phrases. Even the octaves were not as breathtaking as one might have expected, lacking clarity despite the ferocious speed of delivery.

Some people stood up at the end, but the mass standing ovation which was surely on the cards given the hype surrounding Lang Lang never happened. I was suddenly reminded of Ivo Pogorelich, an equally photogenic and charismatic young pianist who used to inflict ludicrous “interpretations” on the standard repertoire. His career bloomed in the 80s and lasted precisely as long as his rockstar looks. Everything I saw and heard on Saturday night told me Lang Lang’s is heading in the same direction. He’s only 22 so there’s more time, but he shows no sign that he might blossom into a great interpreter from the almost archly precious keyboard puncher we heard in the Tchaikovsky. The best thing he played was the Chinese folk song encore, where he produced the translucence of tone and effortless musicality lacking in the Tchaikovsky. It was sadly too little too late.

Sunday’s concert opened with a Mozart oboe concerto which was charmingly played by the Philadelphia’s star principal Richard Woodhams, one in the orchestra’s long line of outstanding instrumentalists, which began with the legendary Marcel Tabuteau, another oboist, in the early years of the last century. Woodhams produced a purity of tone and line that took us to the essence of Mozart’s work, extracting the sublime from apparent understatement. In other words, the opposite of Lang Lang. It was a refreshing bit of programming, lightening the palette as it were for what followed in the second half.

To say that the performance of Mahler’s 5th was stunning in every respect seems like an understatement. I speak as someone who heard Bernstein and the Vienna Philharmonic perform it at the proms in the late 80s and had believed ever since that the delivery was unsurpassable as an experience of the work live. I was wrong.

A key to the performance’s authority was Eschenbach’s choice of tempi, which were spot on, neither too fast nor too slow. In particular he resisted the temptation to speed up the last movement, bringing out in the process all its magisterial grandeur.

The famous adagietto was performed without any sign of cloying mannerism nor did he attempt to do the reverse and deliver it matter-of-factly, as many conductors are now wont to do, as if embarrassed by its tender lyricism. Here there was great beauty and plenty of audience members were visibly overwhelmed, particularly the couple next to me, who told me before the concert that they were would be hearing the piece for the first time.

Another of the orchestra’s star principals, David Bilger made a remarkable contribution as he lead the trumpets in the closing bars of the final scherzo with electrifying precision over the surging string section.

We had experienced a truly great Mahler five and in recognition of this plenty of people stood up to applaud at once. After a thunderous ovation the orchestral encore seemed out of place, and simply an honouring of the tradition for encores on overseas orchestral tours. It should have been left out, simply because it was impossible to follow the Mahler with anything that would satisfy or seem remotely apt.

A full set of Mahler symphonies from the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eschenbach is on the cards, to be recorded by Ondine over the next few years, with the 6th Symphony up first. Judging by Sunday night’s performance the series is likely to become the benchmark for years to come.