A slim, bespectacled Austrian man with longish hair conducted an American orchestra in a performance of the Symphony No. 2 by Gustav Mahler at Carnegie Hall. On his way to the podium he walked with a very unusual gait, three regular steps followed by one small one. The year was 1909. The conductor was Gustav Mahler.

Fast forward to 2007 and lose the limp, and you have the scene on Thursday evening as the beleaguered Franz Welser-Moest led the Cleveland Orchestra in the “Resurrection” Symphony. How did the two readings compare?

Well, contrary to the assumptions of some of my younger colleagues, I did not attend the former, but anecdotal evidence indicates that there were major problems with Mahler’s New York Philharmonic. One story tells of his desiring to fire seven of the eight bassists in the ensemble. The symphony itself was warmly received, but it is interesting to note that in his three years at the Phil, Mahler, with at least seven symphonies in the can, programmed only two of his own “children.”

Mr. Welser-Moest, on the other hand, led a solid, if lackluster account. The current Cleveland musicians are likely a step above their old Philharmonic counterparts, but there was just enough raggedness in this performance to suggest deterioration in these present forces. Certainly the string sound is far inferior to that of even 10 years ago, with the cello section particular weak.

Although the overall impression of this rendition was dull, there were indeed shining moments. The Andante of the Second Symphony is the first movement of this composer to be entirely based on the popular schrammelmusik of the day. This Viennese dance band style has come to be associated with Mahler, and although the composer may not have intended this miniature jewel of a movement to seem nostalgic, the effect on a 21st century listener is unmistakably that of lost charm and grace (a similar phenomenon exists in the best work of Johann Strauss Jr.). Mr. Welser-Moest, having grown up with the Austrian folk music tradition, did a wonderful job of contrasting the somewhat awkward rhythms of the laendler with the smoothness of the waltz, imbuing the folk dance with a certain Upper Austrian clumsiness that reminded one of Anton Bruckner, who taught this contrasting technique to Mahler at the University of Vienna. Half of the orchestra was dancing in ball gowns, the other half in dirndl.

The bizarre Scherzo, subtitled Die Welt wie im Hohlspiegel (“The World as in a Concave Mirror”) is set to the music of the song “Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt” (St. Anthony Preaches to the Fish). Sadly, Maestro did not catch the humorous spirit of the movement, and the result was a somewhat directionless slog. Furthermore, the instrumental forces were not always together, the percussion in particular anticipating their entrances ahead of the conductor’s somewhat elongated tempi, a phenomenon that reared its ugly head in the final movement as well.

Both singers were quite good: Bernarda Fink added gravitas with her mezzo solos and soprano Malin Hartelius soared superbly above the chorus. The Westminster Symphonic Choir was, however, a major disappointment. Often out of tune and struggling, they sat for most of the finale, only to stand near its conclusion — what has become a somewhat standard, if distracting, Mahler 2 practice.

In the main, this was not a poor performance but, considering the great tradition of George Szell’s orchestra, it was far from sublime. Maybe Cleveland’s glory days are simply behind it. If so, it does not appear that Franz Welser-Moest is the right man to alter its downward course.