Too bad. The Hallé comes to town for the first time in at least 20 years, and the organisers choose the night when a major oratorio (scheduled 18 months ago) is on at York Minster.

Plenty of punters would like to have attended both. Result? The Barbican is barely half full.

While we're on a rant, someone had the bright idea of dumbing down the Hallé's programme. So the meatiest fare on the menu was three overtures – three-and-a-half, if you include the encore, William Tell’s Lone Ranger section. Otherwise, except for Finlandia, the rest was tasty morsels from larger works: all canapés, no main course. Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers.

But there was nothing dumbed down about the playing, and for that the Hallé – and its assistant conductor Andrew Gourlay – deserve maximum credit.

The woodwinds were in taut array for Shostakovich’s Festive Overture.

The brass responded angrily at the start of Finlandia, percussion followed suit in Walton's battle music for Henry V.

We sampled three ballets and an opera. But it was the Roman Carnival overture that brought out the orchestra’s true colours. Forty-three strings were not quite the five dozen Berlioz stipulated, but their saltarello was marvellously crisp.

Trombones rounded it off brilliantly. A brief oasis of calm in the Walk To The Paradise Garden was prelude to the final crash, Tchaikovsky’s 1812.

All great stuff, but next time, a symphony and a concerto, please?