A bracket of folk-songs ran from a couple of Maori offerings, including an artfully elaborating Po Karekare Ana, to Greensleeves dressed up with the sleekest Hi-Lo harmonies.
New Zealander Christopher Bruerton was a moving storyteller in Eric Bogle's The Band Played Waltzing Matilda, rounded off by his colleagues in hushed, immaculate unison.
After interval, Elena Kats-Chernin's River's Lament was a stilted affair, not helped by bursts of applause between movements. Effectively written for the voices, it was dogged by the Australian composer's conservative idiom. Listening to the "drip, drop" and "plip, plop" of rainfall in the last section reminded me, rather sadly, that this group once sang Penderecki, Ligeti and Berio.
Regardless of how you find the group's lighter material, the final set of numbers, some mushy Michael Buble excepted, was electrifying.
David Hurley's countertenor floated serenely above the syncopations and bass Jonathan Howard sometimes seemed to have a drum kit concealed in his lips.
And the first encore was just for us, the ultimate Kiwi tribute.
Their sizzling take on Dave Dobbyn's Slice of Heaven suggests these men could well consider taking out a patent on a cappella reggae.
