Exultant vision of the fantastic

Beethoven's Missa Solemnis, however, is not one of them. The sinewy woodwind, unbloated gut strings, barking valveless horns, and even wooden sticks on kettledrums - all characteristics of the 19th century orchestra - help spotlight everything that is raw and radical in the piece.

At least that's what happened last night in Sir John Eliot Gardiner's breathtaking reading with the Orchestre RÈvolutionnaire et Romantique and the magnificent Monteverdi Choir.

Not everything was immaculately polished. The choir's very first entry, for instance, came across as "K-k-kyrie" rather than "Kyrie", and there were other minor fluffs. But they mattered not a jot. Instead, the work seemed genuinely new again in its brazen disregard of the expected, its exultant relish of chaos, its lack of piety. And its sheer drama, as when the devout, sober Kyrie leads into a Gloria that here launched itself like a whooshing rocket. Equally, the close of the Gloria was as bizarre as Beethoven intended, the harmony lurching this way and that, heavily stressed convulsive cross rhythms disrupting any regularity of pulse, melodic lines fragmented and distorted, unexpected sound-colours lacerating the texture. This was not merely the exultant praise of the faithful, but a vision of some fantastic beyond we may call heaven or not.

There was more to relish. Highlights included a Benedictus graced by Peter Hanson's touching violin solo, while everyone in the impressive-looking team of solo singers - Luba Orgonasova, Nathalie Stutzmann, Christoph PrÈgardien and Alastair Miles - delivered the superlative performances we expected. And the final Agnus Dei, which dwells on the word "pacem" ("peace") was followed by silence. We all knew why.

Monteverdi Choir/Orchestre Revolutionnaire et Romantique/John Eliot Gardiner