Time for a midseason review, although I give you the usual cautionary notes: First of all, the first “half” of the season is shorter than the second “half,” by almost two months. Second, I can include for consideration only those performances I’ve heard – which, however, is a lot of performances! And third, I will stick with the highlights: There were so many of those, there’s no need to bother with the lowlights. Better that they be forgotten.

Start with the recitals. Mikhail Pletnev gave an absolutely brilliant piano recital, comprising Bach, Brahms, and Beethoven (the three Bs, we used to say – do we still?).You will never hear better Bach on the piano than Mr. Pletnev demonstrated in the E-minor partita. And Beethoven’s “Waldstein” sonata was beautiful and unusual.

The Norwegian cellist Truls Mørk continued to dazzle, although the word “dazzle” implies a superficiality that Mr. Mørk lacks. He gave an outstanding recital with the pianist Kathryn Stott. In sonatas of Myaskovsky, Prokofiev, and Chopin (plus some Janacek), they were intelligent, adept, and musical.

It was a thrill to hear Anthony Newman on the organ of St. Bartholomew’s Church. Especially thrilling was to hear his own compositions and improvisations. And Midori, the one-named violinist, gave a recital that included an exquisite account of the Debussy sonata with her regular piano partner, Robert McDonald.

A few concerto performances – all on the violin, as it happens. Maxim Vengerov did the Mendelssohn with the New York Philharmonic and its music director, Lorin Maazel, and you know what? That old warhorse was newborn; I had never heard it so full of character. Also with the Philharmonic – David Robertson, conducting – Christian Tetzlaff gave a vivid, arresting account of Bartok’s Concerto No. 2. You felt that you were hearing it much as the composer had heard it in his head, and soul. And about Hilary Hahn’s traversal of the Elgar concerto, with Sir Colin Davis and the Philharmonic, what is there to say? To say that it was transcendental seems too little, but it’ll do.

Some orchestral performances: James Conlon led an unusual and excellent concert with the Montreal Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. It was all Russian, and its highlight was probably “The Bells,” by Rachmaninoff, which we don’t get to hear very often, but which ought to be front and center, as Mr. Conlon and the Montrealers proved.

At the Philharmonic, the young Finnish conductor Sakari Oramo had a superb outing, showing himself to have all the tools. And Sir Colin was his usual splendid self, giving an especially distinguished – and distinctive – performance of Haydn’s Symphony No. 103, the “Drumroll.”

And the music director, Mr. Maazel? Under him, there were several topnotch performances, of which one of the Beethoven Seventh, and one of Bartok’s “Miraculous Mandarin” Suite, stand out: taut, crackling, marvelous.

Move to the opera: The Met opened with a very good “Otello,” with conductor James Levine leading a performance of understanding and attentiveness. Carlo Guelfi made a terrific Iago, and Barbara Frittoli was assured and touching in the Willow Song and Ave Maria. When it was time for “Die Walkure,” Placido Domingo showed he’s still got it, in his loved role of Siegmund. He is autumnal now – but autumnal’s not bad.

A total triumph was a new production of “The Magic Flute.” The director Julie Taymor – a hit on Broadway – fashioned a magical “Flute” indeed, and Mr. Levine had a great night, when I saw this show. The sweet-voiced tenor Matthew Polenzani did himself proud, and Dorothea Roschmann, the German soprano, proved once again that she is one of the finest Mozart singers of our time.

Move, for a moment, to City Opera, which gave us an absorbing “Daphne,” the Richard Strauss opera we don’t see nearly enough. And they gave us a stunningly good “Dialogues of the Carmelites,” so good that it was almost unbearable to experience. An Israeli mezzo named Rinat Shaham made a memorable Blanche, and the veteran Joyce Castle made an equally memorable First Prioress. Oh, that was a good performance, on the part of everyone: I shudder even now to think of it.

Back at the Met, Sondra Radvanovsky was exemplary as Elena in “I Vespri Siciliani”; comparisons to Callas were not inappropriate. And we had, for the first time on the Met stage, Handel’s “Rodelinda,” in which Renee Fleming was supreme, and in which David Daniels was typically strong. “Tannhauser” brought the Wolfram of Thomas Hampson, and his “Evening Star” song was out of this world. I mean that sort of literally.

“Tales of Hoffmann” was a lot of fun – James Morris was extraordinarily villainous as the Four Villains – and Karita Mattila headed a capable cast in the Janacek opera “Kata Kabanova.”

Before leaving opera, I must mention the Manhattan School of Music’s production of Lee Hoiby’s work from 1964, “A Month in the Country” (based on the Turgenev play). It was a treat to hear this American gem, and the Manhattan kids offered what was simply one of the best performances of the season thus far – professional, semi-professional, whatever.

A few odds and ends to clean up: The aforementioned David Daniels was masterly in cantatas of Alessandro Scarlatti, sung with the St. Luke’s Chamber Ensemble. At the Philharmonic, Lorraine Hunt Lieberson gave a reading of Britten’s “Phaedra” worthy of the mezzo for whom it was written: Dame Janet Baker. The two women are quite different, but the American sang this unusual work with burning insight. At St. Bartholomew’s, a performance of Bach’s Christmas Oratorio featured the young mezzo Brenda Patterson, who was sensational.

And Chanticleer – the 12-man a cappella group from San Francisco – sang its usual Christmas concert at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in front of that big tree and the Baroque Neapolitan creche. That concert was so good – so musically correct and spiritually refreshing – it’s almost enough to sustain you clear through to June.