O.C. MUSIC REVIEW : Concertgebouw Returns Under Riccardo Chailly : Concert: Amsterdam orchestra makes its first local appearance in five years under the baton of its new music director.

Friday was a festive night in Costa Mesa.

Celebrating the opening of the fall season at Segerstrom Hall and, simultaneously, the beginning of its 37th year of concert sponsorship, the Orange County Philharmonic Society presented the Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam.

The mighty ensemble hadn’t appeared locally since 1985, and a few things had changed in the interim. The adjective Royal had been appended to the Concertgebouw label in recognition of the orchestral centenary in 1988. More important, Riccardo Chailly had succeeded Bernard Haitink as music director.

For some strange reason, official publicity materials pretend that Chailly--an Italian despite his French name--is “the first chief conductor of non-Dutch origin” to hold the Amsterdam post. This myopic claim overlooks the distinguished tenure of Eugen Jochum, an emphatically German maestro now relegated to lowly guest status in the revisionist accounts provided by the management.

Ultimately, nationalistic matters are unimportant. Only the playing counts. Much of the playing for Chailly, on this occasion, proved disappointing.

Even in its pre-Royal days, the Concertgebouw was seldom regarded as a high-precision instrument. One savored its rich timbre, its mellow expressive scale and pervasive warmth. In doing so, one gladly overlooked certain lapses in polish.

Under Chailly, the lapses linger. Unfortunately, they seem more problematic now because the erstwhile richness, mellowness and warmth seem to have decreased.

It is dangerous to judge an orchestra on a single occasion under trying conditions. For all we know, the Royal Dutch visitors may have been suffering communal jet lag. Chailly may have been disoriented by the quirky acoustics of the Orange County Hall, which he had encountered for the first time only an hour before the concert began. Still, other itinerants have coped more effectively with similar challenges.

In Schumann’s Fourth Symphony, which opened the program loudly, the Concertgebouw strings sounded tough, the brass rough and the winds wan. Chailly concentrated on speed and passion, whipping up undeniable excitement but slighting lyrical suavity in the process.

Matters improved, to a degree, after intermission when he confronted the poignant expanses of Mahler’s “Lied von der Erde.” He did convey the essential aura of endless yearning. He did savor the piquant accents that offset the aching pathos. He did demonstrate a basic grasp of the over-ripe romantic idiom. The orchestra--long associated with that specific idiom--responded with reasonable security.

Still, Chailly painted in primary colors, even when Mahler asked for pastels. One missed muted delicacy and the linear tension. One missed the textural transparency and spacious majesty that separate a competent performance from a compelling one.

Jard van Nes, the intelligent mezzo-soprano soloist, sang the Bethge texts with firm tone and affecting simplicity. Although she mustered little rapture in the high climaxes and little resonance in the crucial descending phrases, she impressed with communicative honesty throughout.

The tenor in “Das Lied von der Erde” has a virtually impossible task. He should summon the steely force of a Wagnerian superman one moment and the nimble refinement of a Mozartean poet the next.

Gosta Winbergh is more a Tamino than a Siegfried. No matter. He is remarkably resourceful and amazingly sensitive.

The Swedish tenor refused to strain for impact, even when the orchestra threatened to blanket his slender but solid, invariably elegant tone. He never flinched from the high tessitura. He offered object lessons in dynamic flexibility, verbal point and sensual appeal. Not since Julius Patzak. . . .

The Orange County Philharmonic subscribers applauded enthusiastically, but only in the right places. Mahler’s eternal benediction (“Ewig . . . ewig . . . “) was allowed to evaporate in magical silence. A rapt pause--the ultimate tribute--preceded the inevitable cheers.

There may be hope.