The Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings is one of Benjamin Britten’s best-loved pieces. Conveniently, it is one of his best, too. And the man to sing it today is Ian Bostridge, the English star (or semi-star). Indeed, you might call him the Peter Pears of our time — and Pears, you remember, was Britten’s longtime partner and exponent. Frankly, Mr. Bostridge has a far better instrument than Pears did, but you must be careful to whom you say that.

Mr. Bostridge was scheduled to sing the Serenade with the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra at Carnegie Hall on Tuesday night. But he was ill, giving way to a veteran American tenor, Stanford Olsen. And Mr. Olsen performed satisfactorily.

The first note of the Serenade — the first note for tenor, that is — is high and exposed. And Mr. Olsen botched it. He would have more problems throughout that first song (“Pastoral”) — these included some quavering and flatting. But Mr. Olsen is a savvy and capable singer. He has a sweet, sweet voice, and he knows how to make it ride on the breath. Also — and how often do you note this about a Rossini tenor? — he has a beautiful lower register. “Hymn” has some quick passages, and Mr. Olsen handled these easily.

His partner in the piece was the hornist Stewart Rose, longtime principal of Orpheus. He displayed a mastery over his instrument. And talk about exposed, and high, too! The hornist really has to walk a tightrope in the Serenade. And Mr. Rose was never in danger of falling off. Indeed, he could cavort and pirouette on it. He was not perfect, no, but he was confident, stylish, and altogether musical. The instrument is so hard, sometimes a player can’t worry about being musical.

As for the orchestra behind the two soloists, they played adequately, and I might single out the double basses. In “Elegy,” they provided effective, neat punctuation.

The best performances of the Serenade transfix and transport, as night works its magic. Was this one of those performances? Not really. Some of the tempos were a little slow, and phrases were sluggish, stilted. A proper flow was not fully achieved. But there was “much to admire” here, as critics say. And the cliché truly applies.

This concert was called Sublime Serenades (and we all know that alliteration is the ad man’s close friend). There were two other serenades on the program, one of which was Bohuslav Martinu’s from 1930. It is dedicated to his teacher, the fine French composer Albert Roussel. And this serenade is charming, graceful, and well crafted. The second of its four movements, marked Andantino moderato, is a particular beauty — a slightly impish and sassy beauty. And the next movement, Allegretto, hints at jazz.

Moreover, the serenade speaks in a fetching language, not quite tonal and not quite atonal, either.

The Orpheus Chamber Orchestra is what I call a riderless horse, meaning that it has no conductor — and sometimes the group suffers for it. In the Martinu, their playing was a little ragged, uncrisp. Greater cohesion would have shown the piece to better effect. But the orchestra was competent, and they made an interesting, unusually dark sound. The pizzicatos (rather whimsical) with which the piece ends were decently executed.

On the second half of the program was one of Mozart’s serenades, No. 9 in D, known as “the Posthorn.” The orchestra was just big enough, and bold enough, to express Mozart’s grandeur. And they were small enough, and flexible enough, to express … other things. At times, the Orpheus played with freedom and excellence. And at others, they played indifferently, drably. A couple of dances could have used more wit.

As for execution — technical cohesion — this was not exactly James Levine conducting the Vienna Philharmonic. But the orchestra was respectable.

And the concert was well worth a customer’s while. You had an opportunity to hear that obscure Martinu piece, and that wonderful composition — a near masterpiece, I would say — of Britten’s. And Mozart isn’t too bad, either.