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Having resoundingly declared not two weeks ago that I had never seen the CBSO perform so well, I am forced to admit that the orchestra have once again outdone themselves.

I can say with confidence that in the many years I have seen the CBSO in concert, tonight’s performance was undoubtedly their best.

Everyone has their favourite movement in Holst’s Planets suite. Whether it be the percussive ferocity of “Mars, the Bringer of War”, the contrasting tranquillity of “Venus, the Bringer of Peace” or the joviality of “Jupiter”, there is something in The Planets for everyone.

A deep red hue lights the stage. It is St George’s day and King Arthur’s Britons are about to fight the invading Saxons. Centre stage, four soloists – Saxon priests – are gathered to perform sacred rites to ensure their victory. To the left of the stage a harpsichord plucks out a tune above a bass viol and theorbo, whilst to the right a spotlight falls on Merlin, who relates the story.

The Orchestre de la Suisse Romande is as pleasing watch as to listen to. Under the directorship of the renowned Estonian conductor Neeme Järvi since 2012, the orchestra is clearly flourishing. From start to finish, it was apparent that the orchestra were deeply enjoying their performance and this only improved the performance itself.

The announcement by the presenter that Stravinsky did not intend Symphonies of Wind Instruments to please the audience or arouse their passions was greeted with titters of laughter. An overheard conversation during the interval signalled that the number of late arrivals to the concert was suspected to be ‘because they didn’t want to sit through the Stravinsky’.

It isn’t every day that you bump into a world-class virtuoso violinist. I bumped into one, James Ehnes as it happens, and in the literal rather than figurative sense, only minutes before he was to star in the CBSO’s concert celebrating the Ballets Russes in 1913 – a programme that brought together the delightful tranquillity of Mussorgsky’s prelude to Khovanshchina, Sibelius’ Violin Concerto in D

Raucous cheering and stamping accompanied Eric Whitacre’s entrance and he looked every bit the part of rock star as he charismatically took to the mic to introduce this evening’s concert. Never before, he told us, had he been to a choral concert that made him seriously consider stagediving.

To judge by the continued chatter, no-one noticed 100 metronomes on stage being set in motion, signalling the beginning of György Ligeti’s Poème symphonique (1962). Even when the lights were dimmed it only dawned on people slowly that the concert had actually already begun.

The numerous links and connections between each of tonight’s pieces make this a very cleverly crafted programme, on paper at least.

I have never seen so many empty seats in the Royal Albert Hall. Empty, because it took all of three minutes for the audience to descend en masse to the standing arena, transforming it into a dance floor. Children and grandmothers alike got up, unable to resist the heady pull of the music. When the dance floor was full, the audience simply danced in the stalls.

The celebrated Giovanni Gabrieli, one of the most innovative and influential composers of the Venetian school, exacting the transition between the Renaissance and Baroque musical periods, died on 12 August 1612.

Could there be a more perfect setting for Sounds of Venice, harpist Rhodri Davies’ contribution to Gregynog Festival 2012 (“Venezia”), than the Impressionists gallery in the National Museum of Wales where the Gregynog collection’s paintings of Venice now hang? Apart from the city itself, you would be hard pushed to find one.

Whatever I was expecting from the European première of Mandela Trilogy, a musical tribute to the life of the iconic Nelson Mandela, it certainly wasn’t humour. Yet it is to writer and director Michael Williams’ credit that he has managed to convey what could have been extremely tense and serious subject matter with vibrancy and flair.

I wasn’t sure, at first, how it would feel to listen to sacred Renaissance works in St. David’s Hall, a modern, secular concert hall. I wasn’t convinced that the beauty of these pieces and the compositional effects, so suited to the vaulted lofts of a cathedral, would carry over when so far removed from their original context.

Craig Ogden’s easy manner immediately puts an audience at ease. With his comfortable assuredness and witty repartee, Ogden is able to facilitate an unusual sense of intimacy in such a large auditorium as St. David’s Hall, Cardiff. Indeed, seeing Ogden in concert is like being transported to an old friend’s living room, where you sit and chat, watching them play guitar – extremely well.

St David’s Hall’s International Concert Series continued tonight, transporting the audience on a journey around Europe. This was the Orchestre National du Capitole de Toulouse’s debut performance in Cardiff, and their first tour of the UK.

Composed in under a month in 1945 against the backdrop of a burning, war-torn Dresden, Strauss’ Metamorphosen provided the perfect opening to a concert which explored themes of desolation and mourning. Commissioned by Swiss conductor Paul Sacher, Metamorphosen is a composition for 23 strings, inspired by Goethe’s poem ‘Niemand wird sich Selber kennen’ (‘No one can know himself’).