Fans of Richard Strauss have had a good autumn in New York: The Metropolitan Opera has staged “Ariadne auf Naxos”; City Opera has staged “Capriccio”; Lorin Maazel has programmed tone poems and such at the New York Philharmonic. I am reliably told that, somewhere in the world, a Strauss opera is being put on every night. Richard Strauss is never out of season.

On Saturday night, the WDR Symphony Orchestra Cologne, under music director Semyon Bychkov, put on a concert version of “Daphne,” at Carnegie Hall. (City Opera happened to stage this opera last season.) The Cologne forces have been touring with this show – on Thursday night, they had been in Ann Arbor, Mich. And they have recorded “Daphne,” with most of the singers who are making this tour. (That recording is available on Decca.)

“Daphne” is one of Strauss’s one-act operas, based on a Greek myth: Nymph, dismayed by the life she knows, longs to be a laurel tree; gets her wish. It is a heartbreaking story, heartbreakingly and overpoweringly rendered by the composer.

In the title role on Saturday night – as in the other cities, as on the recording – was Renee Fleming, one of the leading Strauss singers of our time. She is a justly famous Marschallin, a justly famous Arabella. And, surely with this recording, she is a (justly) famous Daphne.

At Carnegie Hall, she was pretty much at her best: the voice a wonder, the technique secure, the interpretive intelligence obvious. Her mannerisms were kept to a minimum, and, where they peeped out, they were arguably Straussian. Miss Fleming’s breath was endless, and her stamina was remarkable. (This is a long, demanding role, a tour de force for soprano.) Few women in history can have sung Daphne so winningly. Strauss would have been delighted.

Singing the role of Apollo was Johan Botha, the big South African tenor – well-known for Walther (in Wagner’s “Meistersinger”), for Florestan (in Beethoven’s “Fidelio”), and for other things. He is celebrated for his power, and he provided plenty on Saturday night. But most impressive was the sweet singing he did. I single out one line: “Horst du, Geliebte” (“Listen, beloved”). It was mezzo-piano, startling, gorgeous. Mr. Botha suffered intonation problems, particularly in his last stretch of music, where Daphne is being transformed. This marred his performance, but could not ruin it.

Another tenor was a German with the interesting name of Roberto Sacca. He sang Leukippos, and did so boldly and juicily. If he had a problem, it was that he strained a little while singing loudly. The Swedish contralto Anna Larsson was Gaia, using her warm, impossibly low instrument. It has a husk to it that is not at all unpleasant. The Dutch bass-baritone Robert Holl was Peneios, admirably lyrical, rather than stentorian (as a singer can be in this role).

Lesser roles were well filled too, with the excellent German baritone Eike Wilm Schulte serving as the First Shepherd. An Austrian tenor, Jorg Schneider, showed a fresh, lovely voice as the Second Shepherd. The two sopranos singing the Maids – Julia Kleiter and Susanne Bernhard, both German – performed smartly.

I might note that all of our singers used thick books throughout the performance. Why people feel a need to do this in concert opera is a mystery. It can be quite effective when the books are dispensed with. Miss Fleming did something interesting, and arresting: Toward the end of the opera when she got to a huge high C, she closed her book shut, gripping it almost angrily.

Maestro Bychkov – in shirtsleeves and vest, as usual – led a sweeping, well-managed performance. “Daphne” is more orchestral than ever when the orchestra is on a stage, rather than in some pit. If the Cologne band covered some singers, well, that was Strauss’s fault, and predilection, wasn’t it? Gratifying about Mr. Bychkov was that he engaged in no funny business. He did not try to be profound or sensual; he let the score be what it naturally is. He was content to let the music unspool. The love music between Daphne and Apollo was thrilling, and nerve-wracking, in part because the conductor straightforwardly moved through it.

That Cologne band proved itself adept. The oboist and the concert-mistress spoke for the competence of the orchestra as a whole. And the French-horn players handled their workout well – Strauss always gives them more than enough to do. The orchestra suffered some rough spots, however: clumsy entrances, awful pizzicato. As with Johan Botha’s intonation, this did not detract seriously from the performance at large.

Contributing to the success of this evening was the Cologne chorus – all men, for this opera. They were well modulated, unified, and accurate.

As you can see, a crowd of people are involved in the bringing off of “Daphne,” but ultimately, it is the soprano’s opera. (Strauss wouldn’t have it any other way.) Renee Fleming was the picture of poise and mastery. As she sat in her chair, listening to the others sing, and to the orchestra, she seemed to be enjoying herself thoroughly. Why not? The top Strauss singer in the world, in her prime, in a wondrous, rewarding role. Who could help enjoying?

***

The world is awash in chamber music, especially in string quartets. Once upon a time, there was only the Budapest String Quartet, and one of its members would later recall: “Ve vent by bus.” Now there are almost as many string quartets as there are Burger Kings, and they don’t go by bus.

One of these groups is the Takacs Quartet, founded in Budapest, in 1975, and resident in Boulder, Colo., since 1983. They are particularly acclaimed for their Beethoven string quartets, of which they have made a complete recording (on Decca).The group played this cycle at Alice Tully Hall last season. This season, they’ll play three concerts at Zankel Hall, with a focus on Mozart. The first of these concerts was on Friday night.

I know a bright critic who found the players’ Beethoven at Alice Tully Hall “too perfect” – that is, technically exact, but a little soulless. This was not a problem on Friday night. The group began with Mozart’s String Quartet in C, K. 465, nicknamed the “Dissonance” (for its strange, forward-looking opening).They had trouble getting on track, botching notes, failing to coordinate. They rushed lines, slurred lines – were frequently off-pitch. But, in their favor, their Mozart was meaty and unafraid, not wrongly perfumed.

The second movement – Andante cantabile – is an F-major song, full of plaintive questions, which the players asked movingly. But the third movement – a minuet – was a mess: squeaky, awkward, out of tune. This music ought to be beautiful, even angelic, and it was certainly not that. As for the closing Allegro, it was far from immaculate, but at least it was spirited.

Then the group turned to the non-Mozart work on the program, Debussy’s String Quartet in G minor, Op. 10. Here’s the point at which the critic is supposed to say, “The Mozart put the Debussy in a new light, and the Debussy made us think differently about the Mozart.” Actually, they are two different pieces, if both members of the musical family, centuries old.

The beginning of the Debussy was almost a disaster – quite surprising from this renowned ensemble. Wrong notes, disunity, muddiness: This was not really Debussy, and not really the Takacs Quartet. But the players improved as the movement wore on, and even as they were making mistakes, they had essentially the right spirit of the music. They managed that Debussyan combination of restlessness and gaiety.

Truly superb was the second movement, a scherzo, and one of the most unusual movements in the entire chamber literature. The players gave this music its cockeyed merriment, and they exuded a tremendous energy. I do not mean to say that they played loudly, or fast – I mean that they were intensely musical.

Even better than the scherzo was the slow movement, dream-like, shimmering. You could forget that you were in New York, in Zankel Hall – you could almost forget the rumbling subway! The final movement, sorry to say, contained some of the mediocrity of the first movement (or at least of its beginning). And yet the Debussy as a whole was a welcome success.

After intermission, the players returned to Mozart, and another piece in G minor: the string quintet catalogued as K. 516. For this, the players borrowed a second violist, James Dunham. And their technical sloppiness continued, their act not yet really together. The second movement, in particular – this is another minuet – was too messy to enjoy. But the slow movement was fine, as the players made intelligent use of rests, and gave one of Mozart’s melodies a rare, pleasing insouciance.

How about the finale (which, unusually, is an Adagio leading to an Allegro)? The group totally blew the first note, and would make many more mistakes – intonation was confoundingly bad. But the Allegro had a jolting vigor, and technical errors would take a backseat. If you can convince an audience musically, much will be forgiven. And if you are technically correct without musical conviction, you haven’t offered enough.

On this occasion, the Takacs Quartet did not play up to its standards. But you could tell it was a group capable of greatness – and the middle movements of the Debussy just about justified the price of admission.