Towards the end of the extended applause that greeted this rare all-Schoenberg concert, the conductor held up his score and pointed to the composer’s name. “Don’t forget about the composer”, the gesture reminded us. After all, wasn’t it Schoenberg we were all here for? Not according to the straw poll I conducted in the interval, which confirmed the hall was packed not for Schoenberg, nor even for his daughter Nuria, sitting among the audience, but for Sarah Connolly, present to sing the Wood Dove’s Song from Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder.

And what a performance she gave. Despite an excellent live recording of Das Buch der Hängenden Gärten some years ago, it’s still surprising to find Connolly singing this repertoire. But it shouldn’t be: her deep and subtly shaded colours are perfectly suited to a composer for whom the idea of expression relies on a constant sense of flux and growth. Connolly’s deep reserves of power, even so low in her register, kept a sense of the line’s endless unfolding so that the interplay with the chamber orchestra (this was Schoenberg’s reduced version with harmonium and piano) was spontaneous. Indeed, Nicholas Collon’s sensitive direction, here and in the First Chamber Symphony which followed, brought a freshness that highlighted the expressive detail without ever losing the sense of flow.

Perhaps Collon should have conducted the first half’s Verklärte Nacht. This, despite some superbly inflected playing from the string sextet, never quite came into itself. It’s a tremendously difficult balance to get right, of course, and better to err on the side of subtlety. But only the outstanding cellist, Tim Gill, seemed to have the full measure of the piece, shining through the fraught texture with lines that bloomed just enough to keep the listening longing for that distant promised peace.