Dmitri Hvorostovsky is one of the finest singers we have, whether in opera, in song, or in oratorio. (Instead of oratorio, I should say Russian liturgical music – that is one of his real strengths.) We even hear Mr. Hvorostovsky in Italian popular songs. They’re not especially Italian, but they’re enjoyable.

The typical Hvorostovsky recital gives us Tchaikovsky songs, and then Mussorgsky’s “Songs and Dances of Death,” and then a French set, and then some Rachmaninoff songs. An unaccompanied Russian folk song will finish the evening. He gave such a recital on Friday at Carnegie Hall.

Earlier that day, I was thinking about how often I’d heard Mr. Hvorostovsky in “his” music. I thought of a story about Ronald Reagan. In the late 1970s, his aide Michael Deaver went to him and said, “Governor, you’ve given your current speech quite a bit, all over the country. How about we try something new?” Reagan responded, “No, Mike, I like that speech. It’s a good speech. You just get me new audiences.”

It’s not Mr. Hvorostovsky’s fault that I attend his recitals so frequently.

When he was in his opening set – the Tchaikovsky set – on Friday night, Mr. Hvorostovsky showed some worrying signs: He was pushing, straining. Oversinging. This is not like him. Yes, the voice was regal, as it usually is (and also somewhat contained, as it usually is). But the line wasn’t effortless out of his mouth. I wondered how he would hold up during the evening. Also, his songs were operatic, complete with big, Pavarotti-ish gestures. That would continue to be a problem, unfortunately. But the voice stayed intact.

The last Tchaikovsky song was “Does the Day Reign?” as we say in English, a rhapsodic, Straussian thing. Think of it as Tchaikovsky’s “Cacilie,” or “Heimliche Aufforderung.” Mr. Hvorostovsky handled it with style. So did his accompanist, Ivari Ilja. Tchaikovsky gives the piano much to do in this song – especially at the beginning and at the end – and Mr. Ilja did not blow his opportunities. Throughout the recital, he was a welcome presence: not obtrusive, not negligible.

Mr. Hvorostovsky is one of the great singers of the “Songs and Dances of Death.” The same can be said of his mezzo friend and colleague, Olga Borodina. They sing this work differently – Mr. Hvorostovsky is icier – but they are equally compelling. And Mr. Hvorostovsky was compelling on Friday night. Not even cell phones could upset the atmosphere, or the robust applause between songs. (Remember that next time someone tries to tell you how sophisticated the New York audience is.) The relentlessness of “Serenade” was almost too much to bear.

But the final two songs seemed self-conscious, overly slick. A little too pleased with themselves. They lacked the psychological credibility that Mr. Hvorostovsky usually gives them. His singing had an air of, “Am I not the suavest, handsomest baritone you’ve ever seen?”

After intermission, Mr. Hvorostovsky sang five Duparc songs, and it should be admitted that French singing is not his forte – although good on him for trying everything. The famous, repeated phrase “Repose, o Phidyle!” should have some give, some bend; Mr. Hvorostovsky was far too tight. And his French is problematic: He has no chance on a word like “feuillages,” and the smaller, simpler words – for example, “du,” or “ou” – tend to come out wrong. You never know what vowel Mr. Hvorostovsky will present. Similarly, a phrase like “Le bleu manoir de Rosemonde” may come out foreign – I mean, musically. That one does not require a Russian snarl.

But Mr. Hvorostovsky returned to home ground in the Rachmaninoff set that closed the printed program. He began – as he usually does – with that most perfect of Rachmaninoff songs, “In the Silence of the Secret Night.” As usual, Mr. Hvorostovsky was impressive on the long, one-breathed phrase that ends the piece: but it was a pity that he was sharp on the top note.

Probably the song in which he was most successful was “The Dream,” which was inward, fairly subtle, not operatic. And he was commendable in “Spring Waters,” which is a “Straussian” song of Rachmaninoff’s. But Mr. Hvorostovsky handled the last note absurdly – vulgarly. Just because it was the last note of the set, and of the printed program, no doubt.

Encores? Before he got to the unaccompanied Russian folk song, he sang, in fact, an Italian popular song, “Parlami d’amor, Mariu,” and he sang it winningly, with one of the most beautiful high Fs you’ll ever hear. Then we had the folk song – stemming from the soul of Russia.

That is a Dmitri Hvorostovsky recital.

Oh, and one more word about this evening: Ivari Ilja is interesting to watch, not least because he bows precisely when his principal does. (I noticed this in Salzburg last summer, and reported it to you.) And you know how the page-turner trails after the accompanist when returning to the wings? The order is principal, accompanist, page-turner. Well, on Friday night, the page-turner was a woman, and, each time, Mr. Ilja paused at the door, to let her go first. It was the most charming thing I ever saw.

***

Every now and then, the New York Philharmonic puts on a show. Last season, it did Bernstein’s “Candide” (which City Opera just finished). The season before that, it did Berlioz’s “Beatrice et Benedict” (with supreme Berliozian Sir Colin Davis on the podium). And last Thursday night, it did “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” The Philharmonic’s final performance of the Shakespeare play, incidental music by Mendelssohn, will be tomorrow night.

Not very often do you see a play with the complete incidental music. You hear suites – Grieg’s “Peer Gynt” suite, Faure’s “Pelleas et Melisande” suite (which the Philharmonic played, under Lorin Maazel, two months ago). As a fellow critic remarked at intermission on Thursday night, maybe we can see “Egmont” at some point! All we know is Beethoven’s overture to it; and a splendid overture it is.

Shakespeare is an inexhaustible source for composers, of course, and for other artists as well. “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” has not been neglected – think merely of the Britten opera. Mendelssohn wrote incidental music for the play in 1843, a few years before his premature death. This was a wonderful match, “Dream” and Mendelssohn: The composer was great at the gossamer touch, sprinkling fairy dust at will.

The director Edward Berkeley has fashioned a compression of Shakespeare’s play, and presents it with seven actors, covering about 20 roles. The actors include Campbell Scott, known both for stage and for screen; Hope Davis, whose career is similarly varied; and Marcia Gay Harden, who won an Oscar for “Pollock.”

On Thursday night, all of the actors were first-rate: personable and mature, enthusiastic and modest. They were consistently delightful, and occasionally touching. Ms. Davis was a bit mannered at times, unwantedly halting in her speech. But Ms. Harden was masterly at all times – I’m guessing that Oscar was well earned. She got to hurl some of Shakespeare’s best imprecations, including “You canker-blossom!”

Mr. Berkeley is a deft compressor, or distiller. There are many modern interpolations in his version, such as the statement that a character has “literacy issues.” But Shakespeare’s well loved lines parade by as well, including “The course of true love never did run smooth,” and, “Lord, what fools these mortals be!”

The seven actors read from a script, with varying degrees of dependence. That was a little odd, but then, the musicians were playing from sheet music, too. Theatrical appurtenances were minimal, yet enhancing: lights high or low (usually low); a fat moon projected against the back wall.

But this was a concert, sort of. What about the playing? Best known from Mendelssohn’s incidental music are the Overture and the Scherzo. Ah, and the Wedding March – must not forget that. Conducting this performance was Sir Neville Marriner, that endlessly successful musician. He is incapable of doing anything without taste, although Thursday night’s was in many ways a sloppy performance.

The opening chords of the Overture were not together – at all. And the playing that followed was not exactly gossamer, and not exactly precise. These fairies were stocky and cloddish. The Overture was better in less tricky, more chordal sections. I suspect that the orchestra was improved in subsequent performances.

The Scherzo was, like the Overture, a touch heavy, and it was a little slower than it ought to be – perhaps because Sir Neville figured that the orchestra wasn’t up to it, technically.

In due course, we heard a couple of singers, those being Susan Gritton, a British soprano, and Patricia Risley, an American mezzo. Ms. Gritton has an interesting voice, somewhat pillowed in the middle and lower registers, but lovely and free up top. Ms. Risley sounded rich, although perhaps a little over-vibratoed. It was pleasant to hear some sass in her singing.

Mendelssohn’s Nocturne features a famous horn solo, and the Philharmonic’s player was adequate, if a bit effortful. More sweetness in tone is desirable. And it’s sad to report that the Nocturne’s final chord was terrible – terribly not together.

And the Wedding March? Well, the brass started flat, which was a shame, and the march was altogether too fast: deficient in pomp, in stateliness, in nobility, in uplift. The middle section, however, had some of its sweeping panache. At the end, the woodwind trills should have been tighter – and more in tune.

This performance was not up to Sir Neville Marriner’s standards. And he has, indeed, maintained standards – sometimes setting them – throughout his long career.(The conductor will turn 81 next month.) Especially with the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, he has been a musical treasure. And even on Thursday night, with a balky orchestra, he handled himself with tidy, graceful mastery. Think of the elegant, intelligent, tasteful musician – the kind of musician that has distinguished England – and you think of him.

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” will be performed again March 22 at 7:30 p.m. (Lincoln Center, 212-875-5000).