French toasting to the world that was, the world yet to come.

An Evening of French Music with the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, Fri., Oct. 31 8pm & Sun., Nov. 2 5pm at Alice Tully Hall, 1941 B'way (65th St.), 212-875-5788, $27.50-$40. World to Come, Thurs., Oct. 30 at Zankel Hall, 881 7th Ave (57th St.) 212-247-7800, 7:30, $18-$25.

Although I am a Francophile at heart, the Sounds French Festival of contemporary French music that took over New York City last March was a disappointment. Devoid of the romantic notions that most Americans associate with France, the month-long series of concerts showcased primarily modernist and electronic works from the past 50 years: cold explorations of theory, analysis and the possibilities of technology. For an oboist and singer who first fell in love with France through the Camille Saint-Saëns' Sonata for Oboe and Piano, Jean Françaix's L'Horloge de Flore, and Poulenc's Gloria, I wonder what happened to French composers like Poulenc, who once had asked that their music not be analyzed, but simply heard?

Pierre Boulez, the musical modernist version of André Breton, has kept a tight grip on what kinds of French music are presented to the world, and this festival is a case in point. This weekend, members of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center remember better times for French music, most notably the beginning of the 20th century when the likes of Debussy, Les Six and Poulenc were leading the way.

The earliest work on the program is Debussy's fluttering Petite Suite for Piano Four-Hands, composed early in his career, the open intervals mimicking the pentatonic scales of the Far East and sometimes hinting at Copland's frontier style that was still several decades away. And although Camille Saint-Saëns is often associated with grand romanticism, his later works (such as the Oboe Sonata and Bassoon Sonata to be presented this weekend) reveal the impact of impressionism and chromaticism on his work. The middle movement of the Oboe Sonata, a pastoral shepherd's call full of dreamy melodic cells, can't help but bring to mind the opening of L'Après-midi d'un Faun. Two trios for the odd combination of oboe, bassoon and piano by Poulenc and Jean Françaix, the latter completed in 1994, and Ravel's transcription of his orchestral work, La Valse, which looks back on the great Viennese waltz tradition through the lens of a between-wars artist, round out the program.

If you still prefer to precede the word "fries" with "freedom" or if you simply long to hear something fresh, then head to 57th and 7th on Thursday for former Bang on a Can cellist Maya Beiser's ground-breaking solo program, "World to Come." The multimedia capabilities of Zankel Hall, so boasted about in the months leading to its opening, will be given a full workout with this program, designed by Beiser to envelop her performance in a rich, sensual environment that combines sound, light, video and text.

A major component of the evening's repertoire consists of works requiring multi-tracked recordings of Beiser's playing. Arvo Pärt's Fratres, originally composed for the 12 cellists of the Berliner Philharmoniker, Osvaldo Golijov's Mariel, originally scored for Beiser and percussionist Steve Schick, and Steve Reich's Cello Counterpoint, which he calls some of the most difficult music he's ever written, all require multiple pre-recorded tracks. For Beiser, this way of performing allows her to achieve a continuity and unity of sound that is nearly impossible to construct with multiple instrumentalists.

Louis Andriessen's La Voce and David Lang's title work World to Come, both engage the cellist's "voice." In La Voce, Beiser literally vocalizes as she plays, recounting a text by Italian poet Cesare Pavese, while in World to Come, written during the time following Sept. 11, Lang strives to reunite the cellist to her voice through a vast meditation on the questions of life and death. A video environment by Irit Batsry, winner of the 2002 Whitney Biennial Bucksbaum Award, and Anney Bonney's video for the Reich work, floods the audience with visual stimuli, turning the simplistic beauty of a solo performance into an all-encompassing affair.