Although the story may be apocryphal or at least exaggerated, Johann Sebastian Bach is rumored to have walked over 200 miles to hear Dietrich Buxtehude play the organ. We only have to hop on the subway and get off at St. Thomas Church to attend regular installments of the complete works for his instrument written by the great Dane and performed by Director of Music John Scott.

This Saturday’s recital was intelligently framed, interspersing sections of settings of the Magnificat with other materials ranging from hymns to preludes and fugues. The Taylor and Boody organ, much smaller than the leviathan that Buxtehude himself used at the 14th-century church in Northern Germany but heroically chesty nonetheless, captured just the right powerful but somewhat spare sound. And Larry Trupiano, who operated the foot bellows, enhanced the overall sonic quality of this excellent recital.

Mr. Scott’s playing was not only expressive but also remarkably precise as he traversed pieces in several distinct genres, including a movingly triumphant Nun lob, mein Seel, den Herren. Buxtehude’s greatest music is inspiring and militant, stirring defenses of the faith that seem to have disappeared from today’s politically correct post-Christian Western world. Also included was this master’s setting of Luther’s Ein feste Burg and a Canzonetta in G Major, later “appropriated” by Bach.

Buxtehude, like Bach, had other duties at church and a number of his account books and other mundane materials survive to this day. But not one single manuscript of music remains. For these men, music was an ephemeral art form, a useful tool for the glorification of God. It did not occur to them to preserve their work for posterity. Luckily for us, though, a strong performance tradition has passed along these masterpieces.

For this performance, Mr. Scott was ensconced in the loft and thus invisible to the crowd. It was amusing to observe what happened with what began as a large audience. Almost as soon as the music began, everyone stared at the altar and remained fixated, eyes forward, even though there was nothing to see. It was much like people staring at a speaker telephone during a conference call. After the very first Praeludium in A Minor, many people left the church and there was a steady stream of deserters as the recital moved along. It didn’t seem to be the music or the impeccable playing of Mr. Scott that was at fault, but, rather our short-attention-span society. With nothing to see, people became easily bored.

Which is a pity, as this was a satisfying presentation. But there is a disturbing trend in contemporary performance that may be cheapening the overall musical experience significantly. Just the other week Eve Queler announced that her Opera Orchestra of New York, which mounts rare works in concert versions at Carnegie Hall, may fold its tents because of declining ticket sales. Ms. Queler was spot on when she attributed much of the dropoff in interest to her company’s lack of visual stimulation. The emphasis over at the “new” Metropolitan Opera appears to be in favor of the visual over the quality of the aural. One wonders what old Buxtehude would have thought. For him the music was, by definition, sacred.

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Without question, the Guarneri Quartet, which gave a concert on Saturday evening at the Metropolitan Museum, was one of the very best chamber ensembles of the last quarter of the last century. Their recording of the Piano Quintet of Antonin Dvorák with Arthur Rubinstein is considered by many collectors to be one of the 10 best vinyl issues in history. Since 1964, the quartet has been an anchor of the Museum’s programming.

So the question is, against which standard do we judge them? Had this current recital been offered by a foursome of college teachers from upstate, it would have been quite satisfying. But if evaluating this contemporary iteration by the high standards established by the Guarneri, it is inescapable not to notice some deterioration. The group (Arnold Steinhardt and John Dalley, violins, Michael Tree, viola, and now Peter Wiley, cello) has lost a step or two in the last 43 years, and this may explain why my colleagues in the press tend to ignore its fine music making. Although the group offers consistently mature and measured performances of the classics, it is seldom reviewed.

The performance, beginning with Mozart’s Quartet No. 22 in B Flat Major, was typical of the Guarneri at this stage of its journey. Tone, both individual and aggregate, is an issue for these men, and that highest level of beauty of sound seems to have escaped them — a consideration that made the later inclusion of the Ravel quartet a somewhat questionable decision. There were also the occasional squeaks that sometimes haunt a substandard effort. But perhaps analysis is futile — the Guarneri seems to attract an audience of a certain age that listens more with their hearts and their memories than with their ears.

The concert, however, took a turn for the better with Beethoven’s delightful “Harp” Quartet (No. 10 in E Flat Major). The group negotiated the work’s plucked passages expertly. This reading was notable for its good humor, engendered by the types of phrasing decisions that take years to coordinate. Especially pleasing were the latter manifestations of the final Allegretto con variazioni and the ultimate winding down of Beethoven’s musical clock, accomplished this evening with a most delicious delicacy. There is still much to be said for experience.