The average reader of this newspaper is probably not a great fan of classical music, but I would almost guarantee that the average reader of this newspaper has heard a certain section of Carl Orff's choral masterpiece Carmina Burana.I am of course talking about "O Fortuna," the movement that opens and closes Orff's massive setting of medieval poetry. Television producers, performers of dance or skating routines and publicity directors constantly risk absurdity by using--or rather, misusing-the familiar theme for soundtracks, background music or ads. The context of the music's usage in popular culture rarely relates to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. And so perhaps it is not unforgivable that a certain amount of skepticism underlay my excitement at going to see the Boston Symphony Orchestra, Tanglewood Festival Chorus and PALS Children's Chorus perform the magnum opus under the baton of Rafael Fruhbeck de Burgos. Would I be bored with even a live performance of a work that I've listened to over and over and heard ad infinitum in popular usage?

No, I wouldn't.

In an artistically intriguing move, Benjamin Bagby and the medieval music vocal ensemble Sequentia opened Thursday's concert with a performance of some of the original medieval settings of Carmina Burana. The dramatic spoken word and practically note-perfect singing of Sequentia gave a masterfully executed preview of the medieval harmonies that Orff modernized for his own work. The audience tittered numerous times at the bawdy or bitingly satirical anecdotes told in the songs: Like Fortune's wheel, which is so often lamented in Carmina Burana, the medieval sense of humor and knowing musical exposé of corrupt authority has come full circle to modern times.

And then came the performance of Orff's Carmina Burana. Without resorting to hyperbole, I can say that the BSO played almost better than I have ever heard; the ensemble was spot-on through all of Orff's tricky meter and tempo changes, and the music, relatively harmonically simple, came to life with subtle changes in texture that the orchestra imparted perfectly. Fruhbeck de Burgos conducted scorelessly, seeming to suggest that attention to printed music would only have gotten in his way as he threw himself bodily into pulling the enormous orchestra, chorus, children's chorus and soloists into a cohesive wave of sound.

Soprano Norah Amsellem delivered the challenging solos with style and clarity, and baritone Christian Gerhaher entertained with his brazen, broad depictions of lustful monks and inebriated roustabouts. William Ferguson was weak upon beginning his tenor solo from the viewpoint of a roasted swan turning on a spit but gained in strength as he sang. And despite what my Latinophone companions described as a strange translation of some of the Latin text, the chorus belted its own drinking songs and often risqué paeans to love with personality and skill.

In short, my jaded side was put to shame by Thursday's concert of a piece that I thought was shopworn. As the chorus laments throughout "O Fortuna," cruel Fortune spins her wheel and takes us from the heights of happiness to the depths of despair in a heartbeat. If that is indeed the case, I must be in for a miserable concert next week, because this performance could have been nothing but the peak of Fortune's cycle.