The Russian soul poured out

In the brief Prelude to the opera “Khovanshchina,” Mussorgsky portrays a shimmering sunrise over Moscow. Out of the delicate mists there wells up a rich theme that instantly puts you in touch with the deep soul, suffering and eternal endurance of the Russian people.

Valery Gergiev and the Kirov Orchestra made the moment a ravishing, staggering emotional experience Tuesday night at Walt Disney Concert Hall, with the sound of the strings bestriding the hall like a colossus. It was typical of the mesmerizing conductor and his spectacular band of musicians.

Two hours later, Gergiev closed a four-part program with another celebration of Russian nationalism, Borodin’s kaleidoscopic Symphony No. 2. Once a staple of concert programming, this piece long ago fell out of favor, presumably because of its lightweight intellectual content. What it may lack in ideas, however, it makes up for in that elusive quality of soul, especially in the heartfelt melodies of the slow movement and the brilliant delirium of the finale. It was good to have it back.

Not so Prokofiev’s rarely played Symphony No. 2. In the first work he wrote wholly in his self-exile from the Soviet Union, the composer aimed his symphony “of iron and steel,” as he described it, at the Parisian audience of the ‘20s, which had fashionably welcomed Honegger’s “Pacific 213,” a noisy depiction of a locomotive. But Prokofiev miscalculated. The work was not a success at its 1925 premiere, and it still isn’t, for all the Kirov’s fabulous playing.

It’s nearly relentless in its drive and brutality, even though it does include periods of quiet and repose, particularly in the theme and variations of the second (and last) movement. But it remains impersonal, distant, inhuman. A better performance than the one it received Tuesday is hard to imagine.

Even so, there was still nothing to relate to.

The most substantial work on the program was Sibelius’ Violin Concerto in D, played with rare sensitivity and technical brilliance by Leonidas Kavakos.

The 37-year-old Greek violinist proved a poet of introspection, drawing in the audience with intimate, personal pianissimos yet seamlessly exploding in pyrotechnics where called for.

Gergiev was an expert collaborator, careful not to overwhelm Kavakos but making sure the orchestra surged and soared in its separate passages.

There were two encores: the Russian Dance from Tchaikovsky’s “Nutcracker” and the Russian Sailors’ Dance from Gliere’s “The Red Poppy.”