The Philadelphia Orchestra with Hilary Hahn

In the early minutes of the Vieuxtemps Concerto No. 4, rhapsodic and lush in D minor, the key associated with melancholy, Hahn stood ready, violin tucked under her arm, turning her head curiously to examine the musicians around her. The skirt of her sweeping gown, large red and orange blossoms on a dark background, nodded to the spicier works on the program.

In contrast to Bizet and Stravinsky, Vieuxtemps, a Belgian composer becoming better known thanks to Hahn’s efforts, challenges us to explore emotions through the mind — a philosophy of the sensuous. Though not a household name, Henri Vieuxtemps was well connected to the mainstream of 19th-century European music. He was a student of Anton Reicha, who had been a friend of Ludwig van Beethoven since their days as teenagers playing in the Bonn court.

Playing from memory, Hahn demonstrated a near flawless technique, her fingers leaping between low and high registers, reaching some stratospheric notes at the last outpost of the violin’s range. Yet her virtuosity was servant to interpretation, with thoughtful phrasing and a clear, collegial partnership with the orchestra in expressing the composer’s vision, depth of feeling, and keen intelligence.

The Violin Concert No. 4 is so little known that the audience erupted en masse in applause at the end of the third movement — blame Yannick Nézet-Séguin for concluding that section with too much of a flourish — causing the conductor to turn with a wink to the audience and say, “How about another movement?”

Fast and furious

The program began with the Carmen Suite, an arrangement by Fritz Hoffmann of popular tunes from Bizet’s opera. The notion of “fast and furious” has its place, among race cars and perhaps music that has been played a few too many times for its own good. At any rate, the zesty interpretation, nice and loud, too, was just right for a short (13-minute) romp through a Frenchman’s channeling of Spanish soul.

The complete Firebird ballet was an abject disappointment. This wasn’t Stravinsky’s fault, since he arranged this glorious music in two brilliant suites — one short, one long — for concert performance. Complete ballet scores are meant to be performed with complete ballets. The music was crafted to inspire dance, nothing else, and without dance, it limps along pathetically until the famous Firebird tunes emerge in the final moments of the work.

I barely kept myself awake during the first half of the performance by imaging Nijinsky, all feathery, awakening in a Rousseau jungle landscape. But even that vision did not last for long, and anyway, who wants to pictorialize music that should enter the soul through the ears alone? In all fairness, the orchestra concluded the work with passion and flair, illuminating some of the finest moments of the Firebird score.