Rameau’s vivid, theatrical writing is perfectly suited to McGegan’s temperament, and the conductor thoroughly enjoyed this part of the program. He reveled in the twists and turns of the piece and underscored the music with abrupt gestures. The Overture begins with stark beats on the tambour (drum), then violins interpose an occasional single note, and the movement builds through more disconnected material. Eventually, it reaches a stable triple meter and a complete tune that spreads through the orchestra. Philharmonia’s winds were conspicuous throughout the suite and their playing was exemplary. Tuning and intonation could not have been better. Trills were biting and rhythms incisive, and they blended beautifully.

At the end, Philharmonia offered Handel’s Apollo e Dafne, a dramatic cantata from the composer’s Italian sojourn. It is based on the familiar story of the wood nymph who prefers chastity to a dalliance with the sun-god Apollo. Eventually, she escapes (if that is the right word) when she is turned into a laurel tree. The cantata is filled with wonderful ideas that Handel reused in a half-dozen later operas. In this semistaged version, the orchestra arranged itself in a circle at the rear of the platform, which allowed the singers freedom of movement in front of them.

Brandes is more well-known, a brilliant soprano who is dramatic by nature. Her thought processes were so clear that she established her character simply by entering the playing area. She added a little coquetry to her part to enrich her interaction with Berger, and the two played off each other well. Brandes clearly knows the established "early music" style. But she is not imprisoned by it, and she added vibrato to her tone as necessary. She ornamented her lines like an expert in the da capo sections of her arias, but not in a showy way. Most of her alterations freed the melody, for example, when she released it into a higher register.

The orchestra shone again in this music. But its experience playing was more than the sum of technical or interpretive feats, and more than Stephen Schultz’s beautiful flute obbligato in Daphne’s first aria. The players love what they’re doing and it showed. Freed from having to make a monumental sound on their instruments, their bodies swayed with the music, they listened to each other, and they were loose. Some of them even mingled with the audience at intermission. What was going on at their concert was communication: The audience was brought in to the experience, as if it were chamber music. That is why we all felt transported. Philharmonia is a rare band, and on Saturday it was cooking indeed.