WHEN Philippe Pierlot, director of the Ricercar Consort, effectively interrupted the flow of the music in the spellbinding little concert given by his group last night, he highlighted, probably inadvertently, a few shortcomings in the programme book accompanying the Consort's performance of a set of Elizabethan pieces for a consort of viols.

He wished, he said, to present his colleagues, and he introduced them one by one. I caught none of the names, but I'd like to have known. They should have been in the programme book. The festival managed to name every player in the London Symphony Orchestra last week: there were only five in the Ricercar Consort. There was, of course, a photo biography of director Pierlot, who was described as playing bass viol; well, whatever instrument he was playing last night it wasn't the bass: he was at the top end.

Further, I'd like to have known a bit about the instruments, a common practice today. There was nothing. For anyone who doesn't know, the viol is a fretted string instrument. A group of them is a consort, commonly regarded as a precursor of the modern small string ensemble, though the viol is a sitting-down instrument: nothing under the chin as yet.

Still, despite these niggles, at least Warwick Edwards' brilliant essay put the music firmly in its place in its historical context: pure instrumental music, with, to adapt his quote, "not a ditty in sight".

And what a stream of achingly voluptuous, poignant, heartbreaking music flowed from England's greatest composers, including Christopher Tye, William Byrd and, of course John Dowland, all played with finesse and expressivity by this magic band.

HHHH