In last Thursday’s paper, I had a review of the Berlin Philharmonic — their new recording of Haydn symphonies. Today, a review of just one section of that orchestra: the French horns. This is a famous section, one of the most admired orchestral sections in the world. I have frequently singled out one of the principals, Stefan Dorn. But the other seven players aren’t too shabby either.

Since 1998, they have been working together as an independent chamber group. They play both original compositions, written for them, and arrangements. And their new CD is called “Opera!”

As you might guess, this CD contains various arrangements, or “paraphrases” or “fantasies,” from the opera world. Not only is this recording elegant and impressive, it’s a lot of fun, too. As the group’s publicity materials say, “French horn players would hardly be French horn players” if they were unable to make their work “a happy and hilarious celebration.”

On this CD are evocations of “Der Freischütz,” “La Traviata,” “Tristan und Isolde,” and so on. The arrangements are uniformly skillful and effective. For one thing, they know how much of the original material to include — they don’t linger too long. That is an achievement not to be overlooked.

As for the Berlin horns, they demonstrate their extraordinary beauty of sound, and more technique than players really have a right to have. The prayer from “Hänsel und Gretel” has a special grace. And some selections from “Carmen” are hot, hot, hot.

Speaking of hot: The horns perform an extended treatment of “West Side Story” (not technically an opera, but why quibble?). In general, they have the right spirit, including a blues inflection. Their snapping is not very crisp; but their cries of “Mambo!” are stout. And “I Feel Pretty” has the lovely lilt it deserves.

Separate from this extended treatment is another “West Side Story” track: “Officer Krupke.” And it includes words — words made for the occasion, in both German and English. The song is hilarious. You know how Bernstein ends “Officer Krupke” with a variation on “Shave and a haircut, two bits”? “Gee, Officer Krupke — krup you!” Well, these horns sing, “We are the Berliners — ja-wohl!” (You need to hear it.)

Readers may be wondering how to acquire this CD — there is no record label, properly speaking. Well, it’s put out by a venerable German instrument maker, Gebr. Alexander. The company is celebrating its 225th anniversary this year; and the Berlin Philharmonic is celebrating its 125th. By the miracle of the Internet, we can get just about anything these days. Shouldn’t be too hard.

I had one complaint about this CD: It was too perfect. To play the French horn is to make mistakes — to flub – and this CD was suspiciously and unbelievably clean. But, lo and behold, the disc ends with a bunch of outtakes — bloopers. Just as some movies and television shows do. And this track is one of the most enjoyable on the whole CD.

They are going along, and someone sneezes — cut! Someone cracks, and the rest of the group cracks up. Elsewhere, someone mutters “Scheisse.” These players are having an incredible amount of fun. And this collection of outtakes is just about the humblest thing you’ll ever see in music.

LUCIANO PAVAROTTI

May I offer some advice? Be careful how you think about Luciano Pavarotti (who passed on last week). You may think of him as the big, schlocky guy who mugged for the cameras. In reality, he is one of the greatest singers the world has ever known. Interestingly — and importantly — no one knows this better than singers.

Many call him, unblushingly, The Voice of the Century. Likewise, he may well have been The Technique of the Century. In a public interview with me in Salzburg last month, the soprano Renée Fleming said, “Pavarotti’s technique was perfect — absolutely perfect.” She said this with as much conviction as can be summoned. Other singers simply say “Amen.”

In addition to the voice and the technique — as if these weren’t enough — Pavarotti had a musical instinct that has seldom been matched. He was no bumpkin; it only seemed that way, sometimes. He was a musician and a half.

The question arises, What to listen to? What recordings are particularly recommendable? There are a great many, both the complete operas and the anthologies. I happen to like “Tutto Pavarotti” (Decca), a splendid, representative collection. But virtually any will do. Put one on, and experience what may not be experienced again.

When he retired from the Metropolitan Opera, I called him, in these pages, “our Caruso” — the Caruso of our times. But he was a singer for all time, and the recordings, as well as memories, make him immortal.