The Mostly Mozart Festival got in touch with its feminine side Thursday evening, as the Swedish Chamber Orchestra presented three of the more gentle works in the repertoire. This group is a smallish yet modern one, mimicking the size of orchestras of the era without any of the fundamentalism of the period-instrument folks. (Orchestras remained small until well after the death of Beethoven: Mendelssohn’s Gewandhaus had but 35 members, while Schumann’s Piano Concerto premiered in a hotel’s public space.) It produced full-bodied, hall-filling sounds, just fewer of them.

Music lovers may be forgiven for never having heard of Joseph Martin Kraus, but most know at least a little about his boss, King Gustavus III of Sweden, assassinated during the denouement of Verdi’s “Un Ballo in Maschera.” The cosmopolitan Stockholm court was justly celebrated in the 18th century and Kraus was its central composer and conductor. German by birth, he introduced the “Mannheim roller” (what we would now call a crescendo passage) to Swedish symphonic music.

Unfortunately, his C Major Symphony is little more than a historical curiosity, long on innocence but short on inspiration. The middle movement is but a two-minute bridge between the faster ones, and lacking in melodic invention. Haydn is said to have been enamored of the piece, and one can hear faint echoes of his “Hen” within it, but they are faint echoes indeed. The proficient group performed the first and last movements remarkably well, but if they revisit New York some winter I hope they’ll bring a more substantive Swedish work – say, one of the rich symphonies of Franz Berwald.

Emanuel Ax was on hand to traverse Mozart’s Piano Concerto Number 17; his delicate rendition was most notable for its rhythmic precision and sense of delicacy. It takes a tough man to make such a tender sound, and Mr. Ax funneled his great physical strength into each seemingly effortless keyboard encounter. The winning combination of light and precise touch led to the auditory illusion of the music box, so popular in Mozart’s time and later evoked by Beethoven in the “Emperor.”

Mr. Ax felt comfortable enough to essentially conduct from his piano bench, maestro Thomas Dausgaard having done his job expertly by preparing his troops to play with complementary precision, fading into the shadows when proper. Except for some wandering wobbles in the horn section, this was positively delightful music-making.

Especially noteworthy was the emphasis on contrast between loud and soft, staccato and legato, emerging beauty and controlled refinement. One got the sense that Mr. Dausgaard revels in this type of tone painting; the childlike element is essential to the G Major Concerto, and these fine players captured it brilliantly.

Mozart himself often described, in his letters, the colorful possibilities of the orchestra as if they were bright new toys that he could un wrap every day. Perhaps this was meant to be the link to the Kraus work, as it too was sweet and youthful. But it sounded like something that Wolfie would have written when he was 9.

Schumann dubbed the fourth symphony of Beethoven the “fair maiden between two giants,” and this night she was both beautiful and volatile. The work is filled with Mannheim rollers, and Mr. Dausgaard went for the full measure of Beethovenian storm and stress. The opening allegro vivace was extremely spirited, moving us along dizzyingly thanks to a trendy new emphasis on the composer’s original brisk tempo markings. Energy flagged in the adagio, however, creating some rather embarrassing moments of dead air. The minuet was charming and well balanced, but with some degeneration of intonation, which reared its ugly head with a vengeance in the finale.

As this was their only appearance at Avery Fisher, it soon became apparent that these musicians were not totally aware of the big sound they were projecting. A seeming misperception that they must play ever louder caused the last movement to sound forced and strained. A far (and loud) cry away from their Mozart, the overall effect of the Beethoven was disappointing and contrasted especially unfavorably with the earlier exquisite performance of Mr. Ax.

Undoubtedly, the venue was chosen to maximize ticket sales, a tactic that worked quite well, as the house was respectably full. But in retrospect Alice Tully would have proved the superior hall.