Lang Lang, rolling through his career, has now made a recording of the two Chopin piano concertos. He has done so for Deutsche Grammophon. And the 26-year-old phenom is joined by a wise old conductor and a wise old orchestra: Zubin Mehta and the Vienna Philharmonic.

That’s a lot of conductorial and orchestral firepower for the Chopin concertos, isn’t it? We’re always told that Chopin knew nothing about orchestration, and that these are nothing parts — the concertos are piano vehicles, pure and simple.

Don’t be so sure about that. In any case, the Vienna Philharmonic’s beauty is not wasted on these concertos, and neither is Mr. Mehta’s talent.

The disc begins with the Concerto No. 2 in F minor, followed by the Concerto No. 1 in E minor — perhaps in acknowledgement that the F-minor concerto was actually written first. And Lang Lang unquestionably brings a lot to the table. These concertos should be right up his alley.

They require lots of technique (check). And a singing tone (check). And an intelligent Romantic spirit (check — or semi-check). Lang Lang can exhibit superb judgment, as he did with the New York Philharmonic in Central Park last July, when he played the Tchaikovsky Concerto. At other times, he can be goofy or even offensive.

He is inoffensive in the F-minor concerto. There is a feeling of spontaneity, but nothing bizarre or egotistical. In the first movement, Lang Lang commits some harshness and thudding — but not to the point of unacceptability. And Mr. Mehta’s robust, sinewy Romanticism is most welcome.

In the middle movement (Larghetto), Lang Lang is sometimes a little too impressed with his own beauty, and with the filigree he is creating, or reproducing. And the tempo is a bit slow for the music’s momentum.

As for the closing movement, it is perfectly fine. Lang Lang handles the movement’s wonderful second theme (very Polish) fetchingly. But things get a tad sleepy. Lang Lang has a reputation for excitement, and that reputation is not undeserved. That does not mean he is incapable of some dullness from time to time.

All in all, Lang Lang has made a satisfactory recording of Chopin’s F-minor concerto — but he can do better.

As he does in the E-minor concerto, without a doubt. The young man is at the top of his game here. In the opening movement, you need a refined nobility, or, if you prefer, a noble refinement. Lang Lang embodies that. And he is flat-out exciting — you cannot take your ears off him.

The slow movement is one of the most beautiful creations in Chopin, and Lang Lang does justice to it. And the finale — that rollicking, flavorful rondo?

This movement requires — no, begs for — poise, nimbleness, and flair. And Lang Lang supplies them in abundance. He does some cutesy things that may drive you mad — such as unwritten diminuendos and ritards. But you forgive them, because the rest is so impressive.

The Vienna Philharmonic seems to enjoy playing with this mercurial young man. I well remember how he performed a Mozart concerto with them at the Salzburg Festival one summer. Lang Lang was almost indescribably good. Afterward, the players, almost as one, put down their instruments and applauded him. You don’t see this every day with the Vienna Philharmonic. Therefore, it’s hard to forget.

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Once upon a time, the operas of Leoš Janáček were little-known. And now they are practically staples of the repertory, thanks to the efforts of conductor Charles Mackerras and others. But here is an opera that is still a foreign country: “The Excursions of Mr Brouček.” It is Janáček’s only comic opera. And Deutsche Grammophon has brought us a new recording.

You may ask, “What are the excursions of Mr. Brouček?” There are two — one is to the moon (yes); and the other is to the 15th century (Prague). Janáček worked long and hard on this opera, revising it endlessly, as Nigel Simeone explains in his superb liner notes. He must have been pleased in the end.

Much of the score is typically Janáčekian: nervous, surprising, propulsive. And the score contains a variety of music — including lunar paintings, primitivism, and patriotic hymns. Funny to think of Janáček writing about the moon, a half-century before Neil Armstrong.

The recording gives us a Czech conductor (Jiří Bělohlávek), a Czech cast of singers, a British orchestra (the BBC Symphony), and a British chorus (the BBC Singers). All do credit to the opera.

In all likelihood, you will want to cling to your libretto (which Deutsche Grammophon duly supplies). And, more than that, you will want to see a proper production, sooner or later — so long as that production works with the opera (you never know).

By the way, have composers stopped writing comic operas? It would seem so — and that is a pity. Rossini, Donizetti, and other Italians knew their worth — and so did Wagner (in “Die Meistersinger”). But now is not the time to start lamenting the state of composition today …

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Before there was a full-blown “period” movement, there were musicians such as Julian Bream, exploring the delights of an earlier time, and bringing them to the public. Mr. Bream is a guitarist and lutenist, born in London in 1933. He retired in 2002, though he still practices every day, we’re informed.

Deutsche Grammophon has produced a two-CD set of his artistry. Apparently, the set combines three records he made for the Westminster label in the 1950s: “Julian Bream Plays Dowland”; “Dowland: Ayres for Four Voices”; and “A Bach Recital for the Guitar.” That middle album had Mr. Bream playing with the “Golden Age Singers.”

Mr. Bream plays his Dowland and Bach, not just with learning and fidelity, but with appreciation and pleasure. To play with pleasure: That’s a kind of fidelity, isn’t it?