This Proms Mixtape compilation was a strange cache indeed – from plainsong to the sarod. To call it eclectic would be an understatement.

The play button was pressed and the first track began, Stars; a celestial hum of wine-glasses amplified into the full glory of Tenebrae to a video backdrop of asteroid high-speed space travel. The reflective theme continued with Vladimir's Blues, for piano. Then Arvo Pärt's fractious mysticism, Fratres, and returning to reflective melancholy with Vasks's The Fruits of Silence, piano and choir.

This time-capsule of the digital dark age yielded the holy relics of the slow movement of a J. S. Bach keyboard Concerto, the first of Schubert's ‘Death and the Maiden’ String Quartet and a Chopin's Nocturne (D-flat); a communiqué to future generations of the lost glory of a once-great civilisation.

Hazy distant summers came to life with Soumik Datta's sarod opuses, such as the luxurious Morning Song, then the meditative choral glory of Gjeilo's The Spheres, Lobo's Versa est in luctum, John Tavener's The Lamb and the sombre sublimation of Max Richter's On the Nature of Daylight continued the theme of reflection. There was no applause until the end of the concert – by request (Proms management should do so before each concert). Tenebrae was extraordinary.

This Mixtape Prom was exquisite and profoundly affecting, reminiscent of Tarkovky's Solaris, aboard a spaceship orbiting, with only the fading memory of a deceased spouse for company.