Call it end-of-term fatigue, perhaps - and perhaps blame that fatigue on the wintry selection of works assembled for the London Symphony Orchestra's last two concerts of the season. Even by the standards of the chronically glum Sibelius, his fierce tone poem The Oceanides, the glacial violin concerto and the desperately tragic Fourth Symphony made for an evening with precious little glimmer to pierce through that Nordic gloom.

Of course there are plenty for whom the combination of Colin Davis and Sibelius is enough to get excited about, and you could hear the benefit of the taciturn maestro's affinity with the grumpy Finn (“Conducting Sibelius,” he once wrote, “is like looking in a mirror.”) almost immediately. Not for Davis a wafty, impressionist look at the waves of The Oceanides, but a typically muscular swipe at its throbbing, pulsating forms. As ever, Davis showed his unerring feel for Sibelius's ultimate destination, even if his journey can seem shrouded in fog.

Nowhere is that more the case than in the Fourth Symphony, which begins with a growl and ends with a sigh, but encompasses some extraordinary highs (and lows) along the way. Always pulling the warmth from out of the cold, and even finding a folksy charm in the final movement's tricky tussles, Davis's instincts were utterly sound, but it somehow failed to catch fire: it left me stirred, but never shaken.

The same was true of the violin concerto, in spite of the formidable talents of the soloist Nikolaj Znaider. There's no doubting this musician's technical arsenal - breathtaking passagework, silky diminuendos - but this was an overwrought performance with every legato overmilked and every plangent phrase drenched in anguish. Davis, in turn, stressed the jagged edges and grave climaxes. Let's hope they can both unclench for tonight's repeat.

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