Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, Queen Elizabeth Hall, London <br></br> The English Concert, Wigmore Hall, London

A sensational overture to Don Giovanni - with biting, sardonic articulation from the violins and violas - led into a narcotic account of the Piano Concerto in C minor. Indifferent to Levin's verve and Norrington's rhetorical interjections, the players avoided eye contact with their soloist, their conductor and each other. Though note-perfect and smoothly turned, it was one of the most disheartening performances I have seen: devoid of dynamism, invention and passion.

Brief moments of beauty from Katharina Spreckelsen (oboe) and Jane Booth (clarinet) emerged in the Piano and Wind Quintet, but Levin's enthusiasm was not matched. The Prague Symphony followed form: enlivened only by flautists Lisa Beznosiuk and Neil McLaren, and timpanist Adrian Bending, whose playing was consistently expressive and engaged. "That was relaxing!" said one satisfied listener. Quite. But shouldn't late Mozart be startling, arresting, thoughtful?

The somnambulism of the OAE was doubly perplexing when contrasted with The English Concert's vivacious early Mozart at the Wigmore Hall. Music by Mozart aged 5, 9, 11 or 13 is more interesting for what it augurs than for what it actually achieves, yet this performance had clarity and character. It would be foolish to pretend The English Concert matched the technical precision of the OAE. (Andrew Manze's intonation was banana-skin slippery.) But David Gordon's harpsichord continuo was delightful - as was the work of cellist Alison McGillivray, double-bassist Peter McCarthy, and bassoonist Alberto Grazzi. Spreckelsen was superb in Mozart's First Symphony and the Cassation in G, though not superb enough to make me want to hear the kooky Gallimathias Musicum again. Ironic that the orchestra who looked as if they were actually interested in Mozart should have had the inferior repertoire.

I wonder how sustainable Britain's early music orchestral scene is in its current form. The pool of period specialists, some among the best in the world, is in inverse proportion to the number of ensembles, most of which were established to further the ambitions of their directors. The OAE set out to break this pattern and has achieved brand dominance, yet a Venn diagram of its line-up, that of The English Concert, and those of the seven or eight other high-profile British period orchestras would be very dense indeed. None can offer full-time work. Most are constantly battling for sponsorship. Few have established a distinctive sound in the way that symphony orchestras, and some European baroque ensembles, can. Sometimes the work of these freelance groups is spectacular. More often, their performances are distinguishable only by name.

Thirty years after the early music revolution, the musky timbre of original instruments is no camouflage for lazy musicianship or poor technique. Meantime, the smarter symphony orchestras are grabbing a new generation of musicians equally adept on modern and period instruments. It is no accident that the most stylish and technically secure Mozart I have heard this year came from the orchestra of the Royal Opera House. (Its principal horn was the OAE's second, its second trumpet the Gabrieli Consort's principal.) Instead of running 10 largely interchangeable freelance period orchestras, is it not time we had three or four with full-time salaries, rigorous auditions, generous rehearsal periods, and the opportunity to develop an exciting, entirely personal sonority? Just a thought.

a.picard@independent.co.uk