The six cello suites of J.S. Bach are monumental in every significant way, which means that Saturday afternoon’s traversal of all six in a Lake Worth church was itself a monument for local audiences.

And Alexei Romanenko, who brought these great works to a decent-sized pre-season crowd at Calvary United Methodist, showed that he has all the skill, taste and imagination he needs to fully represent these nearly 300-year-old suites and bring them wonderfully alive.

His work reminds me of no one so much as Yo-Yo Ma: the same flawless intonation, smooth-as-fine-silk fingerwork, and a sense of sovereign, easy mastery over his instrument. Romanenko, principal cellist of the Jacksonville Symphony Orchestra, virtually never seemed as though he was working hard, and even to the most well-known sections of these pieces he brought an interpretation that was all his own.

Romanenko’s complete control over every aspect of this music led to a general feeling of coolness and restraint for much of the recital, but in no sense was it remote or un-engaging. The Vladivostok-born cellist played the six suites out of numerical order – Nos. 5 and 3, 4 and 1, then 2 and 6, with two short intermissions – but it worked beautifully; the first and third pairs were in parallel keys, and the transition from the somber C minor of the opening fifth suite to the D major exultation of the closing sixth suite created a fine and compelling narrative arc.

Aside from the overall sweep of this conception, there were marvelous individual moments. Most telling of all, perhaps, were the slow sarabande movements of each suite, to all of which Romanenko gave a sense of grave beauty, and each had the same kind of attention to phrasing detail that makes them distinctive. In the fourth suite (in E-flat, BWV 1010), for instance, the little two-note half-step gestures that close the movement were precisely played, tying up the movement as though he were adding just the right bow to an elegant package.

The well-known opening of the first suite (in G major, BWV 1007) was played very briskly indeed, quite unlike the medium-tempo tradition, but much more in keeping with the style brisé of Bach’s French contemporaries, which the composer was no doubt emulating. It was refreshing and bold, as was the almost-as-familiar Gavotte of the sixth suite (in D major, BWV 1012), in which Romanenko played the crunching triple stops tightly yet resonantly, which let the melody ring out much more clearly than is often the case, where this catchy tune sounds like it is struggling, Incredible Hulk-like, to greenly burst its structural bounds.

Romanenko also was able to give each of the suites a specific character, which is harder to do than it might sound because of the same-key conventions for the individual movements of suites written in the early 18^th century. And yet here was a second suite (in D minor, BWV 1008) that was distinguished by a sober clarity throughout, in sharp contrast to the air of mystery he gave to the fifth suite (in C minor, BWV 1011); a third suite (in C major, BWV 1009) that was strong and hearty (especially in the pair of bourrees); a sixth suite that was almost over the top as Romanenko made his A string do double duty for the missing fifth string on the cello cousin for which this suite actually was composed.

From start to finish, for more than two hours, Romanenko was able to hold his audience in rapt attention to some of the most challenging, difficult and sublime pieces in the literature for solo cello, and that’s no small accomplishment. This was as excellent, polished and lovely a reading of these works as I’ve heard in some time, and that he was able to pull it off with such apparent ease means that it may take some time for his auditors to realize just how impressive a concert they attended Saturday afternoon.

But it was remarkable. Even if you disagreed with some of his choices, what could not be argued is that Alexei Romanenko has found solutions for some of the problems these pieces present. And he did it in a way that will stand, for me at least, as definitive.

LENOX, Mass. -- Conductor Nicholas McGegan brought San Francisco’s Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra to Tanglewood about two weeks ago to perform Handel’s rarely given opera Orlando in Ozawa Hall.

Home of the Boston Symphony in the summer, Tanglewood is where James Levine, as music director, dazzled opera lovers in last year’s mounting of Strauss’ Ariadne auf Naxos. Alas, he left the orchestra after five years at the helm today (Sept. 1) to concentrate on his 40th anniversary at the Metropolitan Opera.

With so many period instruments dating back to the 18th century, Philharmonia Baroque’s authenticity in the Aug. 16 performance was never in question. Nor was McGegan’s interpretation. Orchestra, singers and conductor fell under the same brilliant label.

It was a great evening of song. One might even call Orlando a singer’s opera.

Handel’s time in London from 1712 until his death in 1759 was his most creative. He wrote close on 40 operas, umpteen oratorios and formed no less than three opera companies, none lasting more than four years. Twice he toured Europe to find excellent singers: the bass Antonio Montagnana, good in coloratura passages, and the castrato Senesino, adored by London audiences.

Had he heard the five soloists of this performance, he’d have approved most heartily. All night long they shone as burnished gold, and the orchestra, seated around an oblong circle on stage, two harpsichords end to end between them, accompanied with gentle sensitivity, as the singers unfolded the story about Orlando’s having to choose between love or glory.

From the start, South African countertenor Clint Van Der Linde as the knight Orlando filled the acoustically perfect hall (modeled after the Musikverein in Vienna) with such mellifluous tones of beauty that everyone immediately relaxed on hearing his voice. There was no doubting that this fine, handsome figure of a man, 6 feet tall, was perfectly cast; no “hooting” pipsqueak falsetto he.

In his Act II aria Cielo! Se tu il consenti (Heaven! If you allow such abominations), Van Der Linde negotiated Handel’s tricky twists and turns and runs galore with ease, nailing every note. Another test came at the end of the act, in his mad scene. Looking disheveled, he tackled seven different tempos and five separate time signatures like a champion. No breaks in vocal delivery, just sheer tonal perfection.

Especially lovely here was the accompaniment: two viole d’amore, one played by David Daniel Bowes on his 1780 instrument, and the other by Maria Caswell on her 1895 William Olds model. Orlando falls into a healing sleep, and restored to his senses, sings of “the sweet draught which invites me to repose.” It is a dream-like aria, delicately sung over softly plucked strings. One could have heard a pin drop. Van Der Linde’s approach to singing Handel’s heavenly music was spellbinding. Seconds passed before this knowledgeable and cultivated audience broke the silence with applause.

Singing Angelica, the Queen of Cathay who had rejected Orlando’s love, was the exquisite Canadian soprano Dominique Labelle. She was sensational. Her musicality oozes out from every pore, her every note beautiful of tone in its delivery. Though appearing to be artful, Labelle sings in such a way that feels wonderfully natural. And it is.

In her Act II aria berating Orlando (He cannot call me ungrateful), she is in an agitated state, as is Handel’s music. Labelle delivers a magnificent piece of coloratura singing throwing off difficult runs with flutelike precision, her breath control imperceptible. This aria is followed by Farewell, trees, a slow lament, sublimely sung.

One of the things that make Orlando so pleasurable is the way Handel’s recitatives lead naturally into his arias. The recitatives in this opera are songs in themselves. Composers of the 18th century struggled with how to tell their story seamlessly, in song.

Having gone to Europe to find great singers, Handel had to let them “show off,” and along came the ABA formula or da capo aria, in which the return of the opening material (the A section) is brought back for the singer to embellish. To modern audiences it makes Handel’s arias seem endless. One has to remember there were no 21^st-century distractions back then, and this kind of vocal display was a competitive art form.

Fortunately, there are just three da capo arias in Orlando; the other 10 are in a freer form and make for delightful listening. Indeed, these arias are written with the voice in mind, with multiple opportunities for singers to show off.

Finding a bass voice to sing Zoroastro -- as called for in the original -- to tackle Handel’s difficult coloratura passages is not easy. The choice of German baritone Wolf Matthias Friedrich was a good one; he has the flexibility and the deep bass notes. In Act II, Friedrich was excellent in singing Through impenetrable darkness when he magically makes two lovers “disappear.” And in Act III, he gave an incredible rendition of An ominous tempest arises; it was remarkable to hear a baritone get a grip on Handel’s coloratura passages so well.

The part of Medoro, an African prince, is a pants role written for a mezzo soprano; in this instance, Diana Moore of England. Medoro’s Act II aria, Green laurels preserve our names, was sung with beautiful tenderness as she carved their two names on an imaginary tree. Moore’s height added believability when she enfolded Angelica in her arms. I heard echoes of the late Kathleen Ferrier’s timbre in her vocal tone at times (I speak from firsthand experience, having heard Ferrier at least four times as a young man in England).

Russian-American soprano Yulia Van Doren as Dorinda was very sweet. With a shiny silvery timbre, her voice is easy on the ear. Her coloratura passages, and she has many, were exquisite. In Act II, she sings The nightingale confesses his sorrow, in a beautiful blend with the violins. Here Handel imitates the heavenly nightingale on the violin, “pouring forth her notes with unpremeditated art.” The combination was a delight.

Exchanging cheeky glances with conductor McGegan in The winds of love turn on our heels, Van Doren sang some amazing flourishes and teasing diminuendos to long rapturous applause from the audience. Truly deserved. The trio, Be at peace dear girl, in which Dorinda discovers that Angelica and Medoro are lovers, was a magic mixture of women’s voices. One wishes Handel used this form more often.

A stage director was not named in the program; perhaps McGegan was responsible for movement. All four characters, except Orlando, were in suitable costume. Orlando’s white shirt with bishop’s sleeves and black tux pants make a mockery of his singing, in Act III, I’m grateful for my helmet and sword -- which he never wore.

Lastly, however, satisfying semi-staged performances may be nothing compared to the Baroque’s deus ex machina, where gods descend from flying clouds, and mere mortals disappear through trap doors. McGegan knows this well, having conducted in Sweden’s lovely 18^th-century Drottningholm Theatre, where such contraptions exist.

Nevertheless, this Orlando was a splendid evening of Baroque opera of the very highest quality. And most enjoyable.
Rex Hearn was founder of the Berkshire Opera Company (1985 -2009). He reviews opera and music in South Florida for Palm Beach ArtsPaper.

It takes some kind of pluck and courage to play a serious chamber music recital with the kind of piano that was available Saturday afternoon to violinist Tomas Cotik and pianist Tao Lin: a much-used brown Baldwin upright.

But the two musicians soldiered on regardless, though the sound quality would have been much different with a concert instrument, and managed to make a large audience at the Northwest Regional Library in Coral Springs quite happy.

Cotik, a native of Argentina whose local performance gigs include the second violin chair of the Delray String Quartet, brought an all-Schubert program to the library’s multipurpose room as a tryout for a concert Aug. 28 at UM and a future recording of the works. Outside of violin circles, Schubert is scarcely known these days as a writer for violin and piano, and yet these pieces have all of the composer’s most beguiling features, especially lovely melody and bold harmonic changes.

In remarks to the audience, Cotik said Schubert’s violin works are the subject of his doctoral study at the University of Miami, and it was clear from his performance of the three pieces on the program that he admires these pieces and wants to do right by them. But while Cotik plays with admirable technical finish, his tone was almost always soft and thin Saturday; so many of the passages in the recital would have been much more memorable had he applied more color here, some added interpretive wit there.

The recital opened with the Sonata (Grand Duo) in A, D. 574, which begins with a little rustic motif in the left hand, vamping, and Lin did the best he could with the muddy sound from the piano he had to play. Actually, he played quite well throughout the recital, especially given the limitations of the Baldwin, and he deserves credit for uncomplainingly shouldering the pianist’s special burden of not knowing until you get to the hall what kind of instrument you’re dealing with.

Cotik gave the first movement a careful performance, clean and clear but somewhat too reticent, particularly in the returns of the main theme, which called out for a bit more breadth. There was good fingerwork in the second movement, light and precise, but Lin’s playing had more presence than the soloist.

The gentle slow movement that followed was beautifully suited to Cotik’s quiet art, and he handled its stormier moments well. The finale, again, was accurate and expert, but not very engaging. It’s the kind of Beethovenian sudden-shock writing that needs a stronger sense of drama to really make the music shine.

The Rondo in B minor (D. 895) that followed is one of those remarkable Schubert pieces that just seems to spin out new, ear-pleasing material endlessly. Written for a rising young virtuoso named Josef Slavik (who was sadly short-lived), it’s written in the attention-getting style of the day, with a dramatic slow intro that gives way to a lively main section full of technical dazzle.

Here again, Cotik has worked hard to master every bar of this difficult, showy, relatively long work, and his extensive preparation shows in his laudable level of technical accuracy. The main section is derived from a dance Schubert wrote earlier, but Cotik’s performance had little of the swing and swagger that the music seems crafted for. In the G major contrasting theme, for which Lin brought the volume down to a hush, Cotik played with tenderness and warmth, but the larger sense of contrast was lost because the primary section wasn’t as big and bluff as it needed to be.

After the intermission, the two returned with the Fantasy in C (D. 934), also written for Slavik. Out of the murmuring tremolandi in the piano, the violin sings a slowly climbing scale pattern that touches on minor and major as it rises. This motif returns in the middle of the piece, in a lower register, and in the performance Saturday, that would have been an ideal time to make a dramatic statement out of the return, but instead it was simply played smoothly. Not a bad thing, but also not theatrical enough.

Much of this work features a Hungarian-style tune that chugs along in its folk-like way, and then serves as a template for plenty of bustling scales for both players. There was not nearly enough accent or drive to this section, though Cotik’s playing was unobjectionable technically, and Lin brought plenty of fire to his frequent scale passages.

The contrasting mid-section was pretty and delicate, and the elaborate variations that come afterward were ably handled by both musicians and made an impressive impact. The closing section, though, would have benefited hugely from more of the grand gesture, not least because the main theme is second-drawer Schubert, and can use the boost.

Tomas Cotik is unquestionably a fine violinist, a musician who prepares thoroughly and has great respect for the music he performs. Now he needs to add much more color to his playing, a much bolder sense of drama, a stronger sense of line, more volume, more presence. Schubert certainly wrote two of these pieces with a specific personality in mind, and it would be most enjoyable if Cotik was able to reflect that in his next outings with these fine pieces.

Tomas Cotik and Tao Lin play this same program Saturday night at the Arts Garage in downtown Delray Beach. Tickets for the 8 p.m. show are $20 in advance, and $25 at the door; visit http://artsgarage.eventbright.com/ or call 450-6375. They will play it again at 4 p.m. Sunday, Aug. 28, at Gusman Hall on the campus of the University of Miami in Coral Gables. Admission for that concert is free.

Of the last concert in the 20^th season of the Palm Beach Chamber Music Festival it need only be said that as the Crest Theatre audience sat there Sunday afternoon listening to L’Histoire du Soldat, the brilliance of Stravinsky’s conception became clear.

Which is only a fancy way of saying that the musicians and actors of the festival did this little masterwork proud, ending the first two decades of the festival on an excellent note.

This performance of L’Histoire du Soldat was a return engagement of sorts. The festival first mounted the work in 1997, and for the 2011 version the company was able to secure the services of the actors it had back in Season 6: Narrator Barbara Bradshaw, Joe Gillie as the soldier, and Randolph Dellago as the Devil.

Each of the actors did a very fine job, with just the right sense of exaggeration for the text, which is drawn from an Alexander Afasaniev retelling of a Russian folktale. This English translation from the original French of Stravinsky and Charles-Ferdinand Ramuz is in rhymed couplets, and it can sound ludicrous if the actors don’t know precisely what they’re doing.

But they did, and the story came off vividly and compellingly, even in its unreality, and even with the actors behind music stands making only minimal movements. That’s because Bradshaw, Gillie and Dellago know how to act well with their voices, just as the musicians next to them were able to get color and life out of their instruments.

Alexander Jimènez, who helped found the festival in 1992 and then went on to a career at Florida State University as director of the Tallahassee college’s orchestral activities, returned to conduct the three performances (the other two took place Friday in West Palm Beach and Saturday in Palm Beach Gardens), and did so with a clear, precise beat. The seven players – violinist Mei Mei Luo and bassist Jason Lindsay, clarinetist Michael Forte and bassoonist Michael Ellert, trumpeter Brian Stanley and trombonist Domingo Pagliuca, and percussionist Michael Launius – gave the music plenty of wit and cheek, nicely conveying the composer’s jazz-inflected score.

Violinist Luo was particularly good Sunday, making the music sound like folk fiddling part of the time, and ably handling the trickiest passages with flair. Stanley had some trouble with some of the more elaborate moments in his part, but overall this was an expert, enjoyable Soldier.

This season of the festival has had program changes for three of its four weeks because of the absence of flutist Karen Dixon, whose father died in early July. In place of the Mucyzinski Fragments and the Bach Second Orchestral Suite that would have preceded the Stravinsky, programmers instead offered the Schumann Piano Quintet (in E-flat, Op. 44).

This is one of the most beloved works in the chamber music repertoire, and for good reason. It has Schumann’s lyric gift in abundance and an easy-to-follow structure, as well as string writing that gives each player a moment or two at center stage.

Pianist Yang Shen was joined by violinists Dina Kostic and Monica Cheversan, violist Rebecca Diderrich and cellist Susan Bergeron -- an all-female cast, as Bergeron noted in her informative and amusing remarks before the piece. And the five women gave this beautiful work a delectable performance.

Shen’s style throughout most of the piece inclined toward detached, precise lines, which perhaps goes against the tradition but added a nice, unsentimental touch that kept things breezy. Bergeron’s solo work in the first movement’s second subject was eloquent and fat-toned, and Diderrich provided strong playing in the partnering passages (no shrinking viola, she).

In the second movement, the ensemble reached something exceptional in the C major section that follows the opening dead march; here, all five musicians played with a kind of hushed serenity that was as beguiling as it was moving. The agitato section was suitably tense and fiery, with each player hitting the accents with gusto.

The contrasting trio sections of the third movement were very effective after the scalar rush of the opening pages, which were almost brittle rather than muscular; a little more legato from Shen might have added some extra shading. Still, it was an athletic reading that won pre-ending applause from the large house at the Crest.

The finale was confident and powerful, and the closing double fugue had a forthrightness that made the music sound logical rather than stunt-like, its archaism fitting right into the rest of the movement without being out of place. It was, in sum, a most satisfying and enjoyable rendition of this great quintet.

In his remarks before the Stravinsky, Jimènez made a pitch for continued support of the festival. “They don’t have to do this,” he said, then detailed the busy lives of his colleagues on stage. It was a point that needed to be made, and the end of the 20^th season was a perfect time for it.

This chamber music series remains rare and precious for several reasons, one of them being that its organizers have tried hard not to do the easy box-office thing and perform only sure-fire hits. That makes it more of a shared exploration than an exercise in summer pops, and that makes it stand out.

The other big reason is that for 20 summers these musicians who could be doing something else have continued to mount these concerts, and that is ultimately a gift of love and interest from people who truly care about their art form. And if that’s not worth preserving or supporting, then no art is.

Because it’s only when artists give all they have that they can redeem their art, and their audience in the process, and in its modest, regular way, that’s exactly what the Palm Beach Chamber Music Festival has been doing since July of 1992.

A sweetly radiant reading of the Mozart Clarinet Quintet added a poignant touch to the closing half of the third concert in the Palm Beach Chamber Music Festival’s current summer season.

The quintet (in A, K. 581) was dedicated to the memory of the Rev. Perry Fuller, father of festival co-founder Karen Dixon. Fuller died earlier this month of liver cancer, and Dixon has bowed out of the series this summer to tend to family matters. Dedicating the quintet to him was a gracious gesture, and it was matched by a graceful performance.

On Sunday afternoon at Delray Beach’s Crest Theatre, clarinetist Michael Forte was joined by violinists Dina Kostic and Mei-Mei Luo, violist Rene Reder and cellist Susan Bergeron. There were some warm-up difficulties at first, with Forte sounding a little thin and Kostic under pitch, but those blemishes evaporated a couple minutes into the first movement, which was played overall with a gentle kind of serenity.

The beautiful second movement fit this mood excellently, and Forte’s lovely tone and long-breathed lines were matched by playing of maximum tenderness from the string quartet. And the quartet’s sense of unity and quiet purpose were much in evidence in the first trio of the third movement, which is for the strings alone.

The finale, a remarkable set of variations, was capably and professionally played, but it could have used more color and contrast. The main theme would have benefited from some crisper rhythmic snap, and the moody minor-key variation from more mystery. The last movement has a wide variety of moods, and here the musicians didn’t take enough advantage of all those differences.

The Mozart closed the concert Sunday, and it was preceded by music of the Czech Bohuslav Martinu, a frequently programmed composer for this series over the years. Kostic, Luo and Reder joined for the Serenata No. 2, a three-movement piece from 1932.

While this piece has the harmonic and rhythmic Martinu fingerprint, it differs from much of his other work in its pronounced lyricism. The second movement, marked Poco andante, is a straightforwardly pretty piece, and the three women played it winningly.

The outer movements have that full-sun quality common to many of Martinu’s speedy movements, and in both instances the three played with vigor, but it was a vigor with a light touch, and the final impression of this brief work was of warmth and geniality more than athleticism.

Dixon had been scheduled to play Eric Ewazen’s Mosaics on the program, but in her absence it has been rescheduled for next summer. Replacing it was a most unusual choice, the Duo Concertante for bassoon and marimba of Leon Stein (1910-2002), who taught for almost 50 years at DePaul University in his native Chicago.

Marimbist Michael Launius and bassoonist Michael Ellert teamed for this three-movement work, which is written in a jazz-inflected tonal style. What’s perhaps most interesting about it is that the material is worked out in a serious, thorough manner, when what you might expect in this instrumental combination is brevity and a comic lightness.

But the final movement of this duo is a fugue, and the piece opens with a jazzy chordal motif in the marimba whose rhythm can be heard running throughout the movement. Both soloists have a lot of work to do, and the effect is of two strong-minded voices having a reasonable conversation; rarely is the texture reduced to one accompanying the other.

Launius and Ellert demonstrated thorough commands of their instruments, and gave Stein everything he wanted, especially in the fugue, which has a bustling theme that had a nice way of hooking the ear into following where it was going. This was a fine performance of a worthy piece, a challenging work that offered listeners a fresh instrumental combination and a sober contemporary flavor, and one that was in keeping with the best traditions of this durable festival.

The Palm Beach Chamber Music Festival wraps its 20^th anniversary season beginning at 8 p.m. Friday at Persson Hall on the campus of Palm Beach Atlantic University with a performance of the Piano Quintet (in E-flat, Op. 44) of Robert Schumann, and Igor Stravinsky’s L’Histoire du Soldat, featuring actors Barbara Bradshaw, Joe Gillie and Randolph Dellago. The program is repeated at 8 p.m. Saturday at the Eissey Campus Theatre in Palm Beach Gardens, and at 2 p.m. Sunday at the Crest Theatre in Delray Beach. Tickets are $25. Call 330-6874, visit www.pbcmf.org, or buy them at the door.