Orpheus comes alive in a full musical bloom

The Orpheus Chamber Orchestra has been around since 1972 -- always self-governing, never had a conductor, never seemed to need one. It’s proved its point over and over on local stages, yet whenever it comes to town, the results astonish again.

Such was the case Thursday night at Royce Hall. The strings, winds and horns produced a lush, polished, completely unified front, with every interpretive twist and turn played absolutely in sync.

The program was an enterprising one -- among other things, pitting the yin of Sofia Gubaidulina’s harsh, discordant, sparely textured “Concordanza” directly against the yang of fellow Russian Prokofiev’s busy, satirical, life-affirming “Classical” Symphony. And Royce’s sharp acoustics were particularly in tune with this group.

As for interpretation, one sometimes wonders whether the Orpheus’ fabled process of collective artistic direction is getting at the heart of what the music can be about.

For example, in the five (out of nine) movements from Sibelius’ “Pelleas and Melisande” Suite it offered, the Orpheus’ playing was outgoing, forward, with phrasings that lunged and surged under a beautiful surface. But it did not tap into the essential inwardness and intangible depths of Sibelius, which admittedly is hard to do.

The Orpheus also brought a celebrity soloist on this visit, violinist Joshua Bell, and that brought another set of issues. Bell seemed determined to oversell Saint-Saens’ Violin Concerto No. 3 with precious tempo fluctuations, slurpy portamentos and exaggerated thrusts that fought with the piece’s poise and shape. The ultra-Romantic pose that sounded overdone in Saint-Saens, however, was right at home in Bell’s encore, a lovely performance of Kreisler’s “Liebesleid.”

“Concordanza” emerged in transparent detail, with plenty of dark, still atmosphere, although the murmuring audience seemed uncomfortable with Gubaidulina’s ruminations from the first note.

The Prokofiev was crippled from the start by the dragging tempo of the opening movement -- it should sparkle, not plod along humorlessly -- though the fleet finale set things right, if a bit too late.

Another encore, Bartok’s Romanian Folk Dances, polished off the evening with a fine frenzy.