One Proms blockbuster effortlessly reached its goal last night when Paul Lewis crowned his Beethoven piano concertos series with a diamantine "Emperor". Two more suggested themselves in a challenging quartet of big works programmed by the Royal Scottish National Orchestra's brilliant music director Stéphane Denève. I now hunger for concert performances here conducted by Denève of Berlioz's Benvenuto Cellini and James MacMillan's The Sacrifice. On the evidence of the late-night Prom's box of delights, I even uncharacteristically want to hear all of Vivaldi's Orlando furioso with Philippe Jaroussky and Marie-Nicole Lemieux as the stars.

Call me a paradoxically wary old Mahler nut, but I reckon that given 24 months of anniversary overkill, it might keep things fresh to catch each of the symphonies live no more than once a year. So, having heard an Everest of a First Symphony from Abbado in Lucerne last August, I thought Rattle's might be the team likeliest to do this far-from-beginner's symphony similar justice. Did its Proms Mahler One compare well with the Swiss festival love-in? In terms of orchestral sophistication and dynamic range, certainly. As for cumulative impact, ease of phrasing and the ultimate electric charge, not for me.

Did anyone find the aged-rocker thrash of Mark Anthony Turnage's new work at the Proms, Hammered Out  - a bit of a disappointment to Edward Seckerson - oddly familiar? This brilliant YouTube remix will tell you why. And for all the orchestral flash, which struck me too as a bit vieux jeu, give me the dazzling Beyoncé Knowles and her sensational dance routine in that video over the Turnage piece any day.



 

From the cuckoo hidden somewhere in the Albert Hall thicket to the Wagnerian bacchanalia of a rollicking Witch's Ride, Glyndebourne adapted its queasy little fairy tale to the widescreen of the Proms with its usual style. There was a twist or two to the consumerist heaven and hell of Laurent Pelly's never too heavy-handed production as semi-staged by assistant director Stéphane Marlot. And centre-platform rather than down in the pit, the phenomenally gifted Robin Ticciati played Peter Pan to the best possible pair of "children", helping them to soar in Albertspace with effortless charm.

Which of the following has the thorniest dissonance: an early 18th-century dance-drama by Rebel, a symphony by Bizet, a concerto by Poulenc or a new work by South African composer Kevin Volans? If you think it's a trick question, you'll guess the right answer: the earliest. And which of the four sounds the least fresh and novel? My own take on that is the most recent.

Forget Dan Brown’s phony grail trail which has led so many paying pilgrims to Rosslyn outside Edinburgh. For the last week of the Festival Fringe the Chapel, most intricate and mysterious of 15th-century sanctuaries, has become a temple of high art dedicated to Mozart, Shakespeare and Britten. Ambitious indeed of a bunch of Cambridge undergrads and alumni to mount The Magic Flute and the operatic Midsummer Night’s Dream side by side. Did they pull it off? Just, in the case of the Britten, which is saying something given a score which is... well, again, intricate and mysterious are the adjectives that spring to mind.

Sometimes people leave you halfway through the wood. Sondheim meant that in a life-and-death kind of way, but it applied literally to this ingenious show at the autumnal August preview I attended. Some folk thought Act One’s knitting-up of polyphonic fairy-tale lines really was the happy end. Others found unseasonable damp gnawing their bones and slunk off to comforting warmth. Don’t go, I pleaded, it gets deliciously darker.

How did they do it? This was another Prom which looked almost too much on paper but worked hair-raisingly well in practice. It was a Vladimir Jurowski special: whizzing, clamorous demons versus introspective reveries, church bells bringing one witches' sabbath to an end, alarm bells kicking off another. And from the first rapid crescendo of the Musorgsky-Rimsky Korsakov Night on a Bare Mountain to the truly great Julia Fischer's much slower build of a cadenza in Shostakovich's First Violin Concerto and on to the final wind-up of Prokofiev's hellish Third Symphony, the performers held nearly everyone in yet another full house spellbound.

Three years ago, the adventurous young company Second Movement got into its stride at Covent Garden Studios with a triple bill of unusual operatic bedfellows. An Offenbach update raised a laugh or two, Shostakovich's completion of ill-fated pupil Fleischmann's Chekhov mini-opera Rothschild's Violin was touted as the highlight, but most of the audience were bowled over instead by a 1920s slice of opera-cum-jazz-cum-surrealism, Martinů's The Knife's Tears (pictured right). Struck by its success, conductor Nicholas Chalmers and director Oliver Mears decided to investigate a lengthier slice of Martinu's wacky Paris years, The Three Wishes or The Inconstancy of Life.

Nobody knows any real happiness, and human kindness is rarely to be found, in Dmitri Tcherniakov's Bolshoi production of Tchaikovsky's "lyric scenes" - the most disciplined and real piece of operatic teamwork I've seen ever to come from the Russian establishment. Hollow laughter and senseless mirth envelop the traumatised, semi-autistic Tatyana of Ekaterina Shcherbachenko, one of two perfect heroines in this double-cast run and worthy of the fuss that surrounded her dewy triumph as 2009 Cardiff Singer of the World. Yet here you think not, what a marvellous singer - which she is - but instead, how painful, how humiliating and how truthful.