Nicola Benedetti is a young Scottish violinist, not yet 20, with a pretty Italian name. Her latest album (from Deutsche Grammophon) brings us music by two English composers: one past, Vaughan Williams, and one present, Sir John Tavener. Ms. Benedetti plays with orchestra — and it is the London Philharmonic, conducted by Andrew Litton.

First comes the Vaughan Williams piece: his “Lark Ascending,” from 1914. This is a quintessential British piece, and Ms. Benedetti et al. play it that way. She is poised and thoughtful, and so are they. The music is evocative, elegiac, and beautiful, just as it should be.

The rest of the album is all Tavener. And Sir John, as you recall, is one of the “holy minimalists” — one of the composers who write spiritual music using the technique of minimalism. Yet the term “holy minimalists” seems to be fading into disuse. And Sir John is probably broader than the term implies.

The first Tavener piece that Ms. Benedetti and her partners play is “Song for Athene,” which the world heard at Princess Diana’s funeral. Sir John recently arranged it for Ms. Benedetti — which is to say, arranged it for violin and strings. The “song” starts out bleak and rather lugubrious. But then the sun breaks out, filling one’s ears with hope. Ms. Benedetti and the others handle the piece with skill and sympathy.

Sir John was once an apostle of Orthodoxy, but has since branched out into other religions and philosophies — including Sufi Islam. He has now gone Indian and Hindu, as so many have before him. This is reflected in his “Dhyana: A Song for Nicola.” (“Dhyana,” incidentally, does not refer to the late British princess, but is the Sanskrit word for “contemplation.”)

This is a pretty, pleasant, and mystical piece, which Ms. Benedetti, Mr. Litton, and the orchestra render with the sensitivity that can now be expected.

The major “Indian” work here is “Lalishri,” which is concerto length, and beyond. The music is, again, mystical and pleasant. It threatens to become a kind of Hindu Novocain. But Sir John breaks it up with lively dances, wild wailing, and a chugging drive. He even includes some virtuosity for his violinist.

This is a work you may want to chuckle at, especially given the trendiness of “Indian” music, as written by pale-faced composers. But this is not a piece to chuckle at — Sir John has too much talent and integrity for that. And he has found a nice young violinistic soul mate in Ms. Benedetti.

BELCEA QUARTET

String quartets of Bartók

Béla Bartók is now almost universally recognized as a genius. And especially admired are his six string quartets, written throughout the composer’s life. The first was written in 1909, when Bartók was in his late 20s; the last was written in 1939, as war was rocking Europe. Bartók would die not long after the end of that war, in 1945.

The string quartets are extremely diverse: Romantic, Modernist, folkish, formal, lyrical, brutal, etc. They contain a world of music. They show inspiration and craft, in equal measures. And, for many years, people have loved to learn, perform, and record them.

The latest ensemble to record the complete Bartók quartets is the Belcea Quartet. (Their label is EMI Classics.) The Belcea was formed in 1994, by students at the Royal College of Music, London. They are named for their first violinist, Corina Belcea, a Romanian. (She is now called Corina Belcea-Fisher.) Being first violinist has its privileges.

The Belcea Quartet is more than up to the task of the Bartók quartets. The group is understanding, adept, and unified. These performances are marked by honesty — honest musical expression. Taste is in charge, and that means no vulgarity and no silly extremes. At the same time, the music has all its flavor and punch.

Many ensembles, past and present, have recorded the complete Bartók quartets. Indeed, practically all the “name” ones have. These new cuts hold their own.

EINOJUHANI RAUTAVAARA

Music for Orchestra

My colleague Fred Kirshnit has a friend who does not take much interest in contemporary classical music: “I don’t know a Rautavaara from a rutabaga.” Rautavaara is Einojuhani Rautavaara, a Finnish composer born in 1928. In the mid-1950s, he lived in our city, attending the Juilliard School. And, a few years ago, the school asked Mr. Rautavaara to compose them a piece for their centenary.

He did. It is “Manhattan Trilogy.” And it is one of the works on a new all-Rautavaara, all-orchestral CD. Everything about this CD is Finnish: the composer, the Helsinki Philharmonic, conductor Leif Segerstam, and the label, Ondine.

(Incidentally, Maestro Segerstam looks very much like Kris Kringle. And doesn’t Santa live up there?)

At Juilliard, Mr. Rautavaara studied with Persichetti, Sessions, and Copland. But he says that what left the “strongest imprint” on him was Manhattan itself: “its beauty, its cruelty, its changing moods.” “Manhattan Trilogy” reflects some of those moods, and is eminently listenable.

The rest of the CD is devoted to Mr. Rautavaara’s Symphony No. 3, composed in 1961. As he describes it, it is a synthesis: between the 12-tone method and Romanticism (to use a shorthand). He further describes the piece as Brucknerian, which is apt.

Mr. Rautavaara says that Schoenberg’s successors were more interested in “organization” than “expression.” Hear, hear. And Mr. Rautavaara does not skimp on the expression, knowing that the 12-tone method is merely a means — a “vocabulary,” he says, not determinative of “syntax.”

This new CD is a welcome dose of a composer who cares about music and is always worth listening to.