When I do, I expect much the same as I would from a meal – tasty appetizers, an interesting main course, and sweet desserts to follow. I expect a fusion of the fresh and familiar, with a little bit new and exotic, served with verve and confidence.

I was expecting a treat – how often do opportunities for homegrown, carefully crafted, live, baroque music come along?

‘Caffeine and Controversy’ was such an opportunity. The Georgian styled interiors of St Andrews on the Terrace provided a beautifully intimate space and the acoustics are very good. Patrons were greeted at the door with a smiling welcome and we were not only provided with a fulsome programme, we received a packet of (fair trade) coffee to enjoy later. An amusing idea, and this subtle wit was to be found throughout the performances.

The artistic direction of Steven Anthony Whiting was clear from the outset. The interplay of lighting, the musicians, and the props worked well. There would be no need for awkward changes later through the performances, and the asymmetry cocked an eyebrow at the Georgian symmetries.

As the appetizers were served I was very pleased by how clearly I could hear the individual voices of the different instruments, ebbing and flowing with the soloists’ voices. The overall effect was a cohesive whole, with spicy moments of an individual flavor that blended back into the overall basso continuo richness. I expect that this is not just some magic or genius on the composer’s part – clearly, the musicians were demonstrating the exquisite control demanded by tasto solo.

Before attending the concert I had wondered how these works would have been presented in the original context. I imagined quite cramped rooms – perhaps in the coffee houses themselves. We’re not so removed – performances in Wellington’s cafes are inevitably squeezed, and overly loud. I imagine that back in the day the musicians would’ve faced the same sorts of issues – and that this performance (harpsichord with closed lid etc) was a deliberate and authentic reflection of the period performance.

The smoothness of the transitions, the way the harpsichord worked with the viola and cello (Ryman, Wittchow, and Eickhorst-Squire respectively) left me hankering for more analog music – I was reminded of the metallic aftertaste that comes from too much digital music.

For me the high point of the first half was the Concerto Grosso Op. 3 No. 2 by Pieter Hellendaal. It remains unclear to me how one of Holland’s most creative sons has remained so obscure in the media-everything 21st century. It was a great opportunity to hear the work presented live.

During the intermission I could overhear other patrons expressing their enjoyment of the appetizers. I thought it was tribute to the intimate space and the artistic direction; and perhaps recognition of the obviously comfortable relationship between the performers that allowed strangers to lean over the seats to talk to each other. Did I mention the terrific programme? It was fun to see patrons were perusing the pages and talking about the upcoming main course.

The authenticity of the second half was enhanced by the ‘trades-musicians’ stomping in, and the head waiter – narrator (Adams) hushing us up with a bit of gossip – here comes some old grump and his spunky daughter … an elderly couple sitting in front of me were giggling like teenagers from the get go. I’m not going to dissect the balance of the performances other than to say that the main course was superb – the Ensemble was more than equal to the task – polished and professional. The costuming and staging worked well – I’m glad the art direction avoided any temptation of using ‘punked-up’ clichés. The audience remained engaged, following along with a certain Schadenfreude as they watched sweet, innocent Lieschen run rings around Schlendrian. Let’s face it, fatherhood can be hell.

The sweet dessert? Knowing that the concert was performed by a fusion of experienced professionals, and fresh musicians just beginning their creative journeys. You can only learn so much of a creative art in isolation. At some point you have to exhibit – to front up and strut your stuff. I believe it was the blend of experience levels that gave the concert a picante edginess that would be easy to lose if the performers had done it 50 times before. Opportunities to work with experienced performers in any field are rare and precious, and Celia Music and the sponsors are to be complimented for their participation.

‘Caffeine and Controversy’ was not some crusty canker growing on some musicologist’s dusty shelf, nor was it some academic work reeking of disinfectant. What we were presented with was an extremely well considered, well rounded menu with works that were familiar enough to be accessible paired with less common pieces.

I left, clutching my coffee, feeling well satisfied.