“Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light – were all like workings of one mind.” Writing almost a century after Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte, Wordsworth was still contemplating the essential duality of the sublime – that greatest of Enlightenment legacies. Rationalism, order and science, we are reminded, are only the admissible part of an age that would also beget the sinister fantasies of Romanticism and the Gothic – those most pernicious of bastard offspring.

The beautiful voice is no more. I know the tag has been applied recently to Renée Fleming, but for liquid-gold soprano sound, there has never been anyone to surpass Dame Margaret Price, who died yesterday in her native Wales three months short of her 70th birthday. Few singers have covered a wider range with such poise and style; in the April 2007 edition of the BBC Music Magazine we placed her Number Eight among the Top 20 Greatest Sopranos of All Time (I now recall she was Number Three on my own list, after Callas and Sutherland, of course).

The beautiful voice is no more. I know the tag has been applied recently to Renée Fleming, but for liquid-gold soprano sound, there has never been anyone to surpass Dame Margaret Price, who died yesterday in her native Wales three months short of her 70th birthday. Few singers have covered a wider range with such poise and style; in the April 2007 edition of the BBC Music Magazine we placed her Number Eight among the Top 20 Greatest Sopranos of All Time (I now recall she was Number Three on my own list, after Callas and Sutherland, of course).

Most of us don't object to experiments in concert presentation - the occasional one-off showcase to lure the young and suspicious into the arcane world of attentive concert-going, the odd multimedia event as icing on the cake. It's only those pundits obsessed with the key word "accessibility" who tell us that the basic concept of sitting (or standing, as they have at the Proms for well over a century) and listening with respect for those around us needs overhauling. It's a typical journalistic conception of "either/or" instead of "all approaches welcome" - a case of what an American academic I know calls "bad binaries".

An “Army of Generals” suggests a kind of supergroup, a fighting force made up of leaders rather than followers. If Charles Hazlewood’s band, which has just started a residency at Bristol’s St George's, is such a host, then he presumably is the Generalissimo, primus inter pares, whose mastery is exercised with a showman's display of almost innocent ego.

We’ve all seen singers go wrong. Forgetting words, missing entries, skipping verses – it happens often enough, and is generally cause for little more than some awkward laughter and a second attempt. Never, however, have I seen a wrong entry (as ill-luck would decree, in the only sacred work of the programme) greeted with a resonant expostulation of “Oh, shit” from the performer, followed by minor audience uproar and many apologies. It wasn’t the finest moment of the evening for Juan Diego Flórez, but – loath though I am to admit it – it wasn’t the worst either.

Next Friday, my amazing period-instrument orchestra, Army of Generals, begins a new residency at St George’s Bristol. The aim of this unconventional and high-octane series of concerts - which will be performed by what I refer to as my crack squad of period instrumentalists - is to raise the bar for people’s engagement with music and to bring some musical protein to a city which I think is so desperately in need of it.

One reason among many to be jolly about the classical music scene recently has been the bright future of Mozart conducting. Its greatest exponent, Sir Charles Mackerras, left us halfway through last year, but then came two Don Giovannis of precocious assurance from Jakub Hrůša at Glyndebourne and Robin Ticciati in Scotland. Yesterday evening's needs-must situation deprived us of a visit from the Aurora Orchestra's honorary patron, Sir Colin Davis - whose infection, we were glad to hear, was nothing serious - but I, for one, wanted to hear how this dazzling young ensemble's principal conductor and artistic director Nicholas Collon would fare in his master's shoes.

One reason among many to be jolly about the classical music scene recently has been the bright future of Mozart conducting. Its greatest exponent, Sir Charles Mackerras, left us halfway through last year, but then came two Don Giovannis of precocious assurance from Jakub Hrůša at Glyndebourne and Robin Ticciati in Scotland. Yesterday evening's needs-must situation deprived us of a visit from the Aurora Orchestra's honorary patron, Sir Colin Davis - whose infection, we were glad to hear, was nothing serious - but I, for one, wanted to hear how this dazzling young ensemble's principal conductor and artistic director Nicholas Collon would fare in his master's shoes.

...your true love might do worse than bung over a brace of concertos. Which is what BBC Radio 3 is doing on "piano day" as it nears the halfway mark of its 12-day Mozart marathon. Is it a good idea? Does any composer, even Bach, stand up to the complete treatment, hour after hour?

A problem child in any number of ways, Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail doesn’t always get the professional attention it deserves, certainly not from London companies. The opera’s last outing at the Royal Opera House dates back almost a decade, and you’d have to look even further back to find it in English National Opera’s performing catalogue. If a director manages to get past the knotty Orientalist issues of staging then there are those of the dialogue, not to mention two of Mozart’s most taxing vocal roles in Belmonte and Konstanze. All of which places the focus firmly onto semi-staged performances such as last night’s superb effort by Bernard Labadie and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment.