Prom 21: The English Concert / Pinnock, Royal Albert Hall, London

It has been a long journey, a pilgrimage even, whichever way you look at it. For nearly three decades, Trevor Pinnock has been responsible for revelatory performances of baroque music with his period-instrument orchestra, the English Concert, and its choir. For the past six years, the spotlight has been on the major religious works of the 18th century, focusing in 2002 on those of JS Bach. The end is now in sight – the Bach project culminates in December and Pinnock hands over the reins of his band next year. In a break from his customary presentation of these great choral works at appropriate points in the church calendar, Pinnock took us through Bach's St Matthew Passion in a season well outside the Holy Week context, and in a far from intimate building, devoid of any religious associations.

Yet even in this less than ideal situation, the performance was characterised by a remarkable unity of approach, thanks to Pinnock not only as conductor but also as the player defiantly producing the "jingle-jangle of tinny sound from the harpsichord" that Henry Wood loathed so much. Pinnock's sheer musical integrity and immaculate taste in matters of tempo, articulation and phrasing produced a performance so natural in its unfurling of Matthew's Gospel story that it had a glorious sense of spontaneity. Had we really heard this work before?

John Mark Ainsley gave a poised reading of the Evangelist's part, his care over textual detail never holding up the story or imposing intrusive interpretative expression. With his Hollywood looks (a dead ringer for the next Jesus biopic) and dark-brown velvety voice, Michael Volle was an impressive Christus. His prophecy, "One of you shall betray me", was uttered with almost matter-of-fact certainty, yet when the halo of string sound surrounding his voice throughout was finally extinguished, there was a heartfelt anguish in his "Eli, lama sabathani?".

In their elaborate arias, interwoven with rich instrumental accompaniments, the principal soloists conveyed a unanimity in their stylistic ideas, striving to communicate each tiny emotional aspect to the spectators marooned in the furthest reaches of the Royal Albert Hall. The English Concert Choir, joined by the New London Chamber Choir, combined nobility and tenderness in the meditative choruses, breathed fire into the punchy crowd taunts, and sensitively paced the ancient chorale hymns that punctuate the narrative. In the opening chorus particularly, the boys and girls of Southwark cathedral provided a delicately balanced partnership in their chorale, which floated serenely over the complex choral textures surging below.

The musicians of the English Concert stretched deep beyond the surface of their accompanying solos, affecting appropriate undercurrents of elegy, compassion or hope. In terms of dodging over indulgence, banishing empty gestures, and penetrating to the heart of this celebrated setting of the Passion, it doesn't get much better. Not, at least, on earth.