Paul Galbraith is a unique performer with a unique instrument. He presents his own arrangements of the classics, which is hardly unusual for a guitarist. But Mr. Galbraith uses an eight-stringed guitar whose derriere is a bit wider than most of its cousins and whose shape is closer to the lower member of the family used in Mexican ranchero bands. This special contrivance is mounted on a pole, like a cello, and is played vertically rather than horizontally.

On Saturday night at the 92nd Street Y, the scholarly Irishman presented a concert that concentrated on the Baroque.This was just the cure for my late-winter doldrums.

The centerpiece of the evening was Bach’s Suite for Solo Cello No. 4, arranged for Mr. Galbraith’s hybrid instrument by Sergio Abreu. A hornist friend once described to me the difficulties of preparing a transcription for his instrument of the Cello Sonata No. 1 of Brahms. After all, horn players must breathe, but cellists have no such requirement. Similarly, guitarists have no bow with which to caress the strings, only fingers with which to pluck. Mr. Galbraith solved this inherent phrasing problem – which was especially noticeable in the legato sections – by keeping his constant pizzicato amazingly steady, thus creating the illusion that it was just another method of creating a smooth melodic line. This was impressive music making.

The one piece that required transposition to another key was the Keyboard Suite in A major of Jean-Philippe Rameau, presented this night in D. A series of dance movements for harpsichord, it flowed beautifully through this master musician’s hands. Mr. Galbraith’s plucking of the strings replicated the sound of the early keyboard quite deliciously. Even a period purist would have to admit that this was charming playing.

Frank Martin was a 20th-century Swiss composer who often fashioned works that were evocative of the Baroque. Like Elliott Carter in his early days, Martin was fascinated with the adaptability of the harpsichord for modern fare. One of his studies was “Quatre pieces breves,” and Mr. Galbraith offered a version emphasizing its searching, cosmological side.

After the intermission came the “Mother Goose Suite” of Ravel and a pastiche to celebrate Mozart’s birthday. Wolfgang once began a work for harpsichord to please his fiancee, but abandoned it midstream. It was arranged by one of his epigones and now rearranged by Mr. Galbraith especially for this program. Titled “Baroque Keyboard Suite,” it was but another example of this artist’s fruitful scholarship.

This fine performer eschews the showman’s approach, concentrating fully on his work, acknowledging applause with the briefest of bows, and projecting an almost ascetic dedication to his art. His studiousness was affecting, and the audience seemed rapt throughout. He attracted a younger crowd, but never pandered to it.

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American wind players are usually introduced at an early age to a spectacular repertoire for concert band or wind ensemble. If they show considerable promise as musicians, however, they are whisked off to the conservatory, where the emphasis is so heavily weighted on the orchestra that wind music becomes just a faded memory of the halcyon days of high school. Great band music is unheard outside state colleges and the military, and a quick survey of a typical New York concert season uncovers dozens of major recitals for string quartets but only a handful of wind evenings. Not that there aren’t established groups that specialize in this fare; it is just that they are vanishing from the American scene as inexorably as the buffalo once did.

Summer camps keep the tradition alive, and nowhere more profoundly than at Vermont’s Marlboro Festival, itself co-founded by a wind player, flutist Marcel Moise. At the Metropolitan Museum on Friday evening, graduates and current participants of the fabled conclave were on hand for an entire evening of blowing and tooting.

Wind players love Carl Nielsen’s Quintet, and not just because they have the opportunity to make animal noises. This realization – performed splendidly byValerie Tessa Chermiset, flute; Rudolph Vrbsky, oboe and Eng lish horn; Alexander Fiterstein, clarinet; Shinyee Na, bassoon; and Paul LaFollette III, horn – was especially notable for its delicacy, and for the gentle bottom line of Ms. Na. (When was the last time you saw a bassoon mute?) The chorale parts of the “Praeludium” section were quite beautiful, their expansive harmonies a spiritual hybrid of church and forest.

Mr. Fiterstein joined for the lieder portion of the evening. What song would that be? Why, that most beloved of Schubert constructions, “Der Hirt auf dem Felsen” (“The Shepherd on the Rock”). The clarinet is not a mere obbligato instrument in this epic poem but rather a full participant, the voice of the pastoral comforting the anxieties of the narrator.

Soprano Hyunah Yu has a rather light voice for Schubert lieder, especially one so dramatic as this. Further, in addition to some rather serious breath control problems, she is still at that stage in her development where she feels the need to invest every syllable with much emotional freight, rendering the total effect moot. Her set of three songs accompanied by Marlboro stalwart Gilbert Kalish at the piano lacked grace, but she is still learning.

The second half of the program offered the early Beethoven Quintet for Piano and Winds and Mr. Carter’s Eight Etudes and a Fantasy.The latter piece is now more than 50 years old, but does not age well. Although there is undeniable educative value for the individual players in such arcane technical matters as double stopping and flutter-tonguing, Mr. Carter forgot to make his lessons musical. Unlike the Chopin Etudes or the Bartok “Mikrokosmos,” these miniatures are simply chains of notes without melodic invention. But they were impressively played this night.