BBC Philharmonic/ Gianandrea Noseda, Bridgewater Hall, Manchester

Berlioz never intended his extraordinary "dramatic legend" The Damnation of Faust to be staged.

It doesn't need to be when, in the concert hall, you have such a persuasive actor-singer as the American tenor Gregory Kunde in the daunting part of the tormented hero. Faced with the challenge of conveying the power of Berlioz's score on a concert platform, Kunde streamed the full force of the drama through his voice and a mesmerising theatrical characterisation. Reacting to every detail in the music and text, he inhabited Faust's inner world with an almost manic intensity.

Kunde has made quite a feature of this role. It showed in his assured singing, pleasingly French in style and sound and, for the most part, lyrical in the love scenes, becoming fiercely intense as he comes under the spell of Mephistopheles.

There was no lack of commitment from the other three singers, either, with Monica Groop, as a radiant-voiced Marguerite, displaying vocal poise while suggesting vulnerability. She brought a poignancy to the second of her two great arias, "D'amour, l'ardente flamme" as, waiting in vain for Faust, she describes her all-consuming passion for him. The accompanying cor anglais was as eloquent here as the solo viola in her earlier "King of Thule" ballad.

As Mephistopheles, the Russian Ildar Abdrazakov sounded less idiomatic, but, with his devilishly handsome looks, he certainly cut a figure with whom I'd be tempted to enter a Faustian pact. His burnished bass was more seductive than stentorian, as he toyed with Faust, and amused with his mock-jolly "Serenade" and "Song of the Flea", before turning on the full satanic force.

If it felt like Faust's show, however, that is not to undermine the energetic efforts of Gianandrea Noseda, to whom the BBC Philharmonic responded with needle-sharp urgency. The progress of Faust's nightmarish journey to hell was vividly depicted, each episode brilliantly realised through the full range of expressive instrumental colour.

The excellent choirs – the City of Birmingham Symphony Chorus and its youth chorus, and the men of the Philharmonia Chorus – roistered as drunkards and snapped as demons, only sounding a shade too refined as peasants praying at a shrine. The children, however, were breathtakingly ethereal in the final redemption scene.