The Metropolitan Museum of Art opened its classical music season with a program of Bach and Vivaldi in a rather unusual place: the Great Hall (you might know it as “the lobby”). A huge space with folding chairs arranged both far and near to the stage, the sound varied depending on the listener’s location. For those of us lucky enough to be in the front, the vastness of the room, the height of the ceiling, and the rounded area above the stage created a giant echo chamber where the strains of the conductorless chamber orchestra Orpheus could be heard as an endlessly repeating tapestry of Baroque tone color. Like another space in the same museum, the ersatz aircraft hangar housing the Temple of Dendur, the auditory conditions took some time to coalesce.

This type of menu was perfect for Orpheus. In its incarnation as a smallish string orchestra, it is superb.The group loves to push the envelope, adding many other instruments and repertoire on a regular basis. Sometimes, it overreaches, performing repertoire that absolutely cries out for a conductor to lead it through its complexities, but this evening’s round of simplistic concerto fare created no worries.

Opening with Vivaldi’s Concerto Grosso No. 8 in A minor, the group produced a well-blended sound, punctuated by alternating tutti and concertante passages that created an entertaining, musical impression of what is right with the world. Plus, if you liked what you heard, you got to hear it repeated many times over under the echoing dome. The ending of each movement was a chance to enjoy an entire dessert cart of consonant overtones.

In 2000, I was fortunate to cover for a European magazine the “distinctive” debut of Dutch violinist Janine Jansen at Weill Recital Hall.This description is not evaluative but rather factual: It is the name of the Carnegie series under whose rubric Ms. Jansen appeared. But it actually proved distinctive, as the then 21-year-old played a program of Beethoven, Debussy, and Ravel with sound technique and a probing, intellectual approach. I wrote at the time that we should remember her name, and now she is traveling the world as an up and coming soloist. Fronting this small band, she began with Bach’s E major Concerto.

Ms. Jansen’s performance, though, was most notable for what it was not. She eschewed the more showy approach, subjugating her sound to the assembled whole, not unlike the unidentified leader of the previous piece. Although dressed in white and standing at the front, Ms. Jansen was no more important than any of her mates, as the orchestra responded with a fast-paced, but subdued reading of the Bach. In fact, it was Ms. Jansen’s self-effacement and thoughtfulness that elevated this concert above the level of mere ear candy.

From the depths of the second violin section, Eriko Sato emerged to partner with Ms. Jansen in the Concerto for Johann Sebastian’s Two Violins in D minor. Again, the interpretation emphasized the totality rather than the soloists, with the two individual voices a duet within the sound of many. Ms. Jansen exhibited a playful side in the final Allegro, as she had done in the prior Bach effort, and exhorted her colleagues with rather insistent head bobs, thus coming dangerously close to fulfilling the role of a conductor.

Of course she had to let her hair down for at least one number, and so concluded with a spirited rendition of “Summer” from Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons.This had been advertised as an excerpt, which, strictly speaking, is not correct, as each of the quartet of concerti was conceived and written by the Red Priest as a stand-alone work. In any case, Ms. Jansen’s “Summer” was an eventful one, most notable for pyrotechnical wizardry — she stepped out of the shadows for this star turn — but also grounded in sober good taste. Her thunderstorm was violent to be sure, but it concluded very quietly (this is remarkably unusual) — you could almost taste the air after the rain.

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Carnegie Hall is not even open yet and already it has produced a week of major musical significance.The annual workshop and concerts of the Silk Road Project began at Tanglewood and moved to the Carnegie basement this past week, culminating in four concerts this weekend at Zankel Hall. Sunday’s concert featured works evoking the music of Thailand and Uzbekistan.

The Silk Road is the ancient route between China and the West, and in several of the countries along the route, traditional classical music has all but been eliminated by Islamic fascists. The Taliban banned all music, while Iranian ayatollahs systematically destroyed much of the Persian musical tradition, using both death and dismemberment as powerful tools for career redirection of its practitioners. Communist China, another equally repressive regime, let loose its red guards to smash the hands of musicians, rendering the practice of their art impossible. It is therefore extremely important for the preservation of these classical traditions that groups such as the Silk Road Project exist.

The first of two composed pieces on Sunday’s program, “Music for a Royal Palace,” by Christopher Adler, was based on Thai traditions (strictly speaking, neither Thailand nor Laos would have been a part of the old Silk Road, but the project has grown through the years to include all Asian countries). The sheng, a Northern Chinese instrument, is featured prominently alongside a gamelan-style of orchestra that included Andrea Hemmenway, viola; Joseph Gramley, marimba; and John Hadfield and Rod Thomas Squance, percussion. Although the piece had some interesting sonorities, it was a rather disappointing set of composed individual parts that alternated like jazz solos. I found the work repetitious and shallow, although there was much toe-tapping in my row of seats.

Much more substantial was the featured work of the afternoon, the world premiere of Paths of Parables by Uzbek composer Dmitri Yanov-Yanovsky. He is a product of the Tashkent Conservatory and the son of another famous local composer.

Mr. Yanov-Yanovsky is a subtle painter of sound, and uses many delicate techniques, including holding a cymbal over a tub of water.The percussionist strikes the high-pitched oval and then immediately immerses it in the liquid, producing a glissando effect not unlike striking a kettledrum and then quickly stepping on its pedal, tightening the skin (think of the fourth movement of Bela Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra). This composer obviously labors over his sonic moments, many of which were simply exquisite.

Matthew Heck read the five parables, while David Goodman conducted the small ensemble, most notably augmented by pipa superstar Wu Man. The final piece, “The Father, The Son, and the Donkey” is itself a journey along the caravan routes, and was thus a fitting conclusion for an exploration of the Silk Road aesthetic. This was a concert of ravishing beauties and exotic timbral combinations.

Orpheus Chamber Orchestra at the Met December 14 (1000 Fifth Ave. at 82nd St., 212-535-7710).