Auckland Philharmonia at the Auckland Town Hall

Cyprien Katsaris ran the gamut from pearly runs to stabbing trills. File Picture

When Xian Zhang made her New Zealand debut in the Auckland Philharmonia's 2004 Midwinter series, the Bruce Mason Centre barely contained her energy.

Last Thursday, in the more spacious Town Hall, the Chinese conductor inspired the orchestra in a heart-stopping programme of romantic music - an impressive launch for the Philharmonia's 2005 Vero series.

From its opening whiplash crescendo, Zhang delivered as much fire and brimstone in Mussorgsky's Night on the Bare Mountain as Rimsky Korsakov's toned-down arrangement would allow. She made the most of the occasional dynamic overload while also acknowledging the dramatic potential of silence.

Richard Burmeister's transcription of Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No 5 may not have been A-grade Liszt, but pianist Cyprien Katsaris, running the gamut from pearly runs to stabbing trills, invested the work with nobility. Zhang, too, drew some extraordinary passion from the lower strings.

Liszt's A major Concerto offered more substance. Katsaris had told me that he most enjoyed the chamber music-like moments and these were the highlights, especially when the pianist duetted with the rapturous cello of James Tennant.

With Katsaris, the lyrical was always allowed to sing, sometimes to the outer limits of rubato; yet he did not flinch when Liszt called for the extrovert.

Zhang, too, did not hold back in searching for more intense emotions, especially when one dolce passage for strings was more passionato than the espressivo marked.

Katsaris' encore of a Bach prelude, arranged by Alexander Siloti, was immaculately voiced, recalling the elegance and intimacy of the salons of yesterday.

After interval Berlioz' Symphonie fantastique offered the work-out that the orchestra had been waiting for.

There were some unrealised moments - The Ball lacked a certain rhythmic flexibility - but Zhang brought a sense of logic and inevitability to a first movement that can often straggle. In doing so, she revealed Berlioz' unique genius.

The woodwind persuasively explored the strange beauties of other worlds in the third movement and the symphony ended in glorious tumult, with a chilling visit to the dark side that Rimsky-Korsakov had earlier denied us.

An encore, a piece of latterday Chinoiserie, all prettified pentatonic, was generous but unnecessary. I would have preferred to have left with Berlioz' flagrant blast of C major ringing in my ears.