The French period band Les Paladins take their name from Rameau’s last comédie lyrique, so it was apt that they and their director, Jérôme Correas, should mark 250 years since the composer’s death with a classy concert at the Wigmore. They were joined by soprano Sandrine Piau for a programme examining the nature of love in his output – an immense subject to which one evening’s music ultimately can’t do justice. Even so, we were reminded of why he is remarkable. Rameau was 50 when he wrote his first opera – and his palpable delight at the exploration of a new medium, combined with his subtle understanding of sensual pleasure, make him utterly unique.

Piau is one of the great interpreters of his work, technically secure and immaculate in her fusion of sound and sense over an exacting dynamic and emotional range. The shock and grief beneath the surface beauty of Tristes Apprêts from Castor et Pollux were unnerving. At the opposite extreme, Folly’s eruption into the comic world of Platée to bless the preposterous union of Jupiter and a frog dipped into the surreal. Best of all was Je Vole, Amour from the opera Les Paladins, a breathtaking evocation of desire in which Piau’s voice soared and hovered ecstatically in the stratospheres.

An elegant, fastidious conductor, Correas also proved to be a fine raconteur, steering us through plots and contexts with beguiling charm. Les Paladins themselves, however, took a while to settle. Moments of suspect intonation in the first half weren’t entirely eliminated by retuning, and it wasn’t until after the interval that we heard them at their best. A selection of dances from Les Surprises de l’Amour was done with impeccable bravura, and the flutes were particularly exquisite when accompanying Piau in the big lament from Hippolyte et Aricie.