Once again the English Chamber Orchestra delivered an outstanding evening's entertainment with the last of its 2009 Bermuda Festival concerts at the Ruth Seaton James Centre for the Performing Arts on Thursday.

Led this time by conductor and harpsichordist Roy Goodman, the programme featured returning Bermudian tuba player Kenneth Amis and Korean-born violinist So-Ock Kim as soloists, and included works both familiar and less familiar.

As a curtain-raiser, Dmitri Sitkovetsky's arrangement of Dohnyani's 'Serenade for Strings in C major, Op. 9', was engaging and attractive.

From the syncopated rhythms of the opening 'Marcia' to the highly-charged thematic language of the 'Rondo – Finale', each of the five movements was its own portrait of richness, colour and mood. Originally written for string trio, 'Serenade' is regarded by many as Dohnyani's finest chamber work. Certainly it is a testament to his imagination and craftsmanship – qualities with which the conductor and the ECO clearly identified and conveyed so beautifully.

Then came the warm welcoming home of Mr. Amis, whose performance of modern British composer Gordon Jacob's 'Tuba Suite', a collection of eight short and very varied pieces, confirmed his standing as an accomplished master of an instrument which is as dominant in size as it is in tone.

In solo form, the tuba may not top the popularity stakes, but in embracing the opportunities which Jacob's score provided, Mr. Amis provided not only enlightenment on its range and capabilities but also confirmed his reputation as a well-respected professional.

Vivaldi's 'Le Quattro Stagione', Op. 1 was the undisputed jewel in the crown of this fine concert, and as glorious a finale as one could wish for. Published in 1725 as part of a set of 12 concertos, numbers one to four, popularly known as 'The Four Seasons', paint a vivid musical picture of the phenomena typifying each stage of the year: the joys of spring, including birdsong, meteorological variations and pastoral dancing; summer's langourous heat, and a violent thunderstorm; the post-harvest celebrations and an energetic hunting scene including in autumn; and the pleasure of relaxing by a warm fire while the icy tentacles of winter grip the frozen landscape.

Each of the three-movement concertos is fabulously rich in texture, colour and contrast, and certainly not for the faint-hearted in terms of its technical demands.

I last heard the English Chamber Orchestra play this work in 1999 at London's Royal Festival Hall, with the world-renowned virtuoso violinist Kennedy (or Nigel Kennedy was he was previously known) as the soloist – a dream ticket if ever there was one.

This time, So-Ock Kim was the soloist, her instrument a Stradivarius, and her performance a dazzling tour de force. Breathtaking in its virtuosity, and supremely beautiful throughout, her performance also created indelible memories of a gifted artist for whom no superlative would be too generous.

In response to the ecstatic and extended applause, and even a congratulatory kiss from Mr. Goodman (who simultaneously conducted and played the harpsichord throughout this work) the elegantly gowned Miss Kim encored with a sublime performance of Bach's much-loved 'Air' from his third Orchestral Suite.

As a conductor, the multi-talented Mr. Goodman was a delight.

A man with possibly the most radiant smile in his field, he lit up the stage with his personality and enthusiasm. In the world of classical music, one accepts perfunctory stage etiquette and myriad physical contortions (in some cases, histrionics) as part of the professional conducting persona, but in driving his vision of the music, Mr. Goodman exuded real warmth and appreciation throughout his working relationship with the orchestra and soloists.

In terms of establishing a rapport with the audience he was excellent.

Perfectly groomed, the celebrated artist, musician, composer and conductor also knew that the correct male footwear with evening attire is black patent.

Now, if the Festival could get audiences to understand the correct etiquette of applause (in classical music, only at the end of a work, not between movements or segments), its artists would leave here not bemused but with an impression that we know whereof we listen.