On November 1, 2009, New York City beheld a very special event. Oh, certainly some people's focus was on that 26-mile five-borough something-or-other, but Dame Emma Kirkby, soprano, and Jakob Lindberg, lutenist, brought beams of 16th and 17th century light into the marvelous Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church (MAPC), at 73rd Street, on an atmospheric afternoon ripe for early music.

The gothic structure of the intimate MAPC reflects a style that belies its 1899 construction. Vaulted ceilings give rise to thoughts of heaven, and the gray light outside was enough for the stained glass to glow with a subtle light as the audience waited, gazing at a piano bench behind a small draped table, and a very modest chair. There was no mic'ing, as is typical of early music concerts, and one could have heard a pin drop at the precise stroke of 3 p.m., when the sharp and polite audience readied itself for this auditory treat.

Dame Emma Kirkby and Jakob Lindberg, fresh from an engagement at Carnegie Hall (on October 20, also reviewed by Q on Stage) presented a different program, "Orpheus in England." And what a treat it was.

There was a brief tribute to MAPC member, and a personal friend of Dame Emma's, Mary Anne Schwalbe, with a performance of "Bist du bei mir," from Anna Magdalena Bach's "Notenbüchlein." Then it was off to the England of John Dowland and Henry Purcell.

Dowland was the pre-eminent composer of his time. Born in 1563, by the end of the century his First Book of Songs was already being reprinted, and would be for a total of four times. This was the age prior to movies, radio, and mass media. People were hungry for new songs to challenge their vocal and instrumental talents at dinner parties and gatherings. Dowland provided most excellent songs for this purpose, including the first grouping of the concert, "Come heavy sleep" and "Shall I strive with words to move." Unlike today's songs of love-requited and otherwise-there were no artsy titles. Songs were known by the first phrase of the first line. Hearkening to the love of bosky glades, the next grouping included "A shepherd in a shade," where lovers play games, often cruel, with one another and recall that the era of myth was much worshipped in this time. Not all duels were with swords-wordplay and songs were often fields of battle, and not only among the men. Men and women crossed hearts as well.

The sound in the church was very conducive to the shading of Kirkby's performance. The vocal nuance, changes in dynamic and subtle, and not so subtle, emotions that her characters, in song, are feeling, are well conveyed. Lindberg's lute, the only working lute surviving from its time (1590), contemporaneous with Dowland and with 10 courses, provides a palette of color that is the perfect match for Kirkby's voice. The two blend in delicious rhythm, until Lindberg's solos.

The first lute pieces were "Lachrimae" and "Earl of Essex galliard." The galliard, especially, showcased Lindberg's marvelous dexterity-he is a lute hero of early music, as his fingers dance in the dazzling cross rhythms that Dowland wrote to mirror Essex's wordplay, which ultimately costs Essex his life. Several times a smile crossed my face in the wake of Lindberg's manual derring-do.

Kirkby returned with "Come ye heavy states of night" and "Farewell unkind, farewell," which has a bit of a twist to the ending, as she bade farewell to an unfortunate love and welcomed joy back into her life. Lindberg returned with "Prelude" and "Fantasia," worthy followers to the first brace of lute solos, and Kirkby ended the first part of the program with "Toss not my soul" and "In darkness let me dwell," which has some modern-sounding shading, with what I would call a "blue" note, but was likely called something else in Dowland's time.

After a brief intermission, Kirkby and Lindberg returned with the Purcell program. Purcell was born in 1659, long after Dowland's death. Much more showy, Purcell was rather like the Andrew Lloyd Webber of the time and his music is reflective of that. Kirkby's technique permits one to feel the note before it's sung. Some part of the brain is registering the music even while she's singing, but before the signal reaches the auditory receptors. Kirkby sits for some songs, fairly common practice in some early music circles, but delights the audience by standing and acting some of the more dramatic tunes. Her first grouping of Purcell included "She loves and she confesses too," "They tell us that you mighty pow'rs above" and "Sweeter than roses," all polished expressions of courtly love. As she continuing with "What a sad fate is mine" and "Bess of Bedlam," her unhinged Bess was quite delightful, not only in that was there action, but also occasional brief flirtations with chest voice for dramatic color and effect.

Lindberg played six short pieces that he had arranged for lute, which were "Cebell," "Ritornell: 'The Grove'," "A New Irish Measure," "A New Ground," "Hornpipe" and "A New Scottish Measure." The concert was rounded out by "Fly swift ye hours" and "Music for a while," a supremely apt close to a lovely afternoon of time travel.

The audience was not ready to let go, just yet, of our dazzling duo! The applause summoned Orpheus and Eurydice back for not one, but two encores. The first was "Evening hymn," supremely well suited to the darkening day, and the second a French paean to beloved Félice, concerning whom, upon further contemplation, the Almighty might be doing our hero a favor, since she is such a non-grounded character. And with that, the audience sallied forth back into the early part of the 21st century, fortified with the world gone by.