On the face of it, this is quite unconventional programming in that we have been offered a nine-minute Mozart divertimento as curtain-raiser to Beethoven's hour-long magnum opus, the Choral Symphony. The answer was given in the pre-concert announcement that yes, there would be a fifteen-minute break between the two pieces. Probably as a kindness for late-comers, I suppose; it was a full house on the night.

George Cleve (right) opted to perform the Divertimento with a larger-than-chamber-sized string ensemble, moving the second violins to his right, and the cellos and violas respectively one position to the left, similar to Petri Sakari from a fortnight ago. This was to achieve the stereophonic effect from the way the parts were written for First and Second Violins.

Cleve conducted the Mozart (and later, more impressively, the Beethoven) from memory. The tone texture of the strings, as expected from the size of the ensemble, came across as a somewhat much thicker veneer than necessary. Also, all the repeats were observed, which belied the litheness of the music; certainly, the considerable lengthening of performance time did no favours for the flabbiness in the string-tone.

But that's not to take anything away from the sparkle and expressiveness of the playing. It was a convincing account, even if, in the final analysis, it was made to sound more heavyweight than usual. Still, the SSO has indeed taken yet another step, albeit small, towards becoming a fine classical orchestra.

If a Divertimento is a small step, what mighty strides then would the Beethoven symphonies count for? We have almost completed the traversal of the entire symphonic cycle - after tonight, there's only Pastoral left to go, at the end of the month. With a full chorus, four soloists and more than an hour of music, this has promised to be one of the highlights of the season.

And what a mighty, joyous noise it was! The first two movements were clinically dispatched with taut phrasing and nicely sprung rhythms. The woodwinds and brasses were magnificent (save for some moments of insecurity in the horns), as was the timpani - it was visually thrilling to watch the Principal Timpanist banging away in the second movement.

Notes I. Allegro ma non troppo, un poco maestoso. The mysterious open fifths of the introduction are like the darkness and void before creation. They suggest the vasteness of the design that lies ahead. Gradually, fragments of the main theme emerge from the darkness until suddenly the theme itself blazes out like a flash of orchestral lightning. The main theme is followed by a wealth of subordinate ideas, mostly lyric. There is a great climax, after which the orchestra suddenly subsides into the tremulous empty fifths of the opening. A highly concentrated development of the opening material follows, then a recapitulation of the whole opening section. The coda, with its ominous ostinano in the depths of the orchestra, seems an apocalyptic vision. Edward Downes Guide to Symphonic Music (1976), pp.109

The third movement, which Bernard Tan describes in the notes as "Beethoven's most sublime slow movement" (and gets no argument from me), was played wonderfully. Cleve did not overindulge nor rush the tempo, but instead sculpted a flowing legato from the orchestra. A pity, though, that many in the audience (who obviously came for you-know-what) were spotted nodding off in the quietitude of this movement.

The final movement, of course, began with an almighty rumpus, the conductor barely pausing between the previous movement and this one. (Yet another instance where inter-movement applause would have been ruinous to the concentration of the performers.)

Again, Cleve's phrasing of the melodic lines was impeccable and one senses that he is the type of conductor par excellence which, even within a short rehearsal time, manages to convey and elicit exactly what he wants from the musicians.

Zheng Zhou, who interjects with the opening vocals, "O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!" ("O Friends, no more of these sounds!") was in top form, as were his other three co-soloists.

Mezzo-soprano Yang Jie, fresh from her three French Flair concerts last week, performed from memory. In the "Turkish March", tenor David Quah delivered the "Freudig wie ein Held zum Siegen!" ("Joyfully like a hero towards victory!") with great aplomb, almost as if he was a forerunner of glad tidings. (And why not, with the final choral iteration of the Ode yet to come.)

The four soloists blended well and the chorus fittingly rose to the occasion, commemorating their 20th anniversary in style. The massed choral sections were electric (a hint of exuberance, perhaps ?) with Cleve bringing everything together into one heck of an unforgettable experience. At the end, it seemed that the applause simply was not going to stop, until the lights finally came up and the concertmaster led everyone offstage.

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