Europa Galante/Biondi; BBC National Orchestra of Wales/OtakaRoyal Albert Hall, London
****/***

Founded in 1989 by the nattily elegant violinist Fabio Biondi, Europa Galante has become one of the finest of period bands, best known for their exploration of the lesser known Italian byways of the 18th-century repertoire. They unearthed some glorious rarities for their prom.

Biondi himself was the soloist in Vivaldi's G Minor Violin Concerto, a disconcertingly austere work far removed in tone from the sensuousness that we usually associate with Vivaldi. Another surprise was Locatelli's Sinfonia Funèbre. Written on the death of his wife, it's a brooding expression of grief, filled with palpitating, snagging rhythms and chromatic sobs. Their playing throughout has a drive and a warmth of colour that knock spots off many of their rivals.

Bach is a recent addition to Europa Galante's repertoire and on this occasion they were joined by Ian Bostridge for two of his cantatas. Number 55, Ich armer Mensch, ich Sundenknecht, the only cantata written specifically for a tenor, is a vocally treacherous meditation on the nature of sin.

Bostridge's approach is inherently reflective rather than dramatic. You are occasionally aware of a lack of fullness in his tone, notably when the vocal line suddenly dips into the lower registers, though his singing in the stratospheres is glorious. He also opts for the rarely heard version for high voice of Cantata 82, Ich habe genug, pouring out a luxurious stream of steady, silvery tone and phrasing it exquisitely.

This was one of those late night proms which was infinitely more enjoyable than the evening's main event, a hit-and-miss affair from the BBC National Orchestra of Wales under Tadaaki Otaka. The high point was Shostakovich's Second Piano Concerto, played with delicate finesse by Boris Berezovsky. The low point was an extremely sluggish rendition of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition.

In between came the world premiere of Tirluniau, an evocation of Celtic landscapes by the Welsh composer Rhian Samuel. Sustained chords broken by fragmentary phrases hint at expansive vistas. Whiffs of Scottish rhythms and an overlong, plangent melody depict a rocky outcrop on the coast of Skye.

The work culminates in an extensive scherzo, which owes slightly too much to the Sea Interludes from Britten's Peter Grimes, and depicts lights twinkling in Cardigan Bay. The sonorities, all low woodwind and strings, are predominantly dark, lit up by sudden brass flares and piccolo flashes. The audience response was enthusiastic - many, I suspect, enjoyed it much more than I did.

***** Unmissable **** Recommended *** Enjoyable ** Mediocre * Terrible