It was the kind of concert you’d expect from a Russian orchestra, a Russian chorus, and a Russian conductor. But onstage at Carnegie Hall on Sunday afternoon were the Montreal Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, and James Conlon, an American maestro. To be sure, the solo singers were Russian – you could not go without natives altogether.

Mr. Conlon conducted an intriguing program of Mussorgsky, Rachmaninoff, and Shostakovich. The only music you could call familiar was “The Bells,” by Rachmaninoff – and that is seldom performed.

This conductor has had a varied career, which now finds him at the head of the Paris National Opera. Next year, he will take over the Ravinia Festival in Chicago. He makes a specialty of exploring unusual repertory, as seen in his recordings of Zemlinsky – choruses and operas. He makes an excellent case for this music, as he did for the scores he led on Sunday afternoon.

We know Mussorgsky for a handful of works, among them “Pictures at an Exhibition” and “Night on Bald Mountain.” (In opera, “Boris Godunov” has pride of place.) But Mr. Conlon and the Montrealers gave us three choruses, two of them on Jewish themes – in which the composer had a great interest – and one of them Greek.

The orchestra was precise and responsive, and it produced a warm, but adaptable, sound. It was obvious that Mr. Conlon had prepared himself – and his forces – well. This conductor is habitually well prepared. The chorus sang with exceptional alertness and heart. The first work was “The Destruction of Sennacherib,” whose opening line is: “Like a pack of hungry wolves, the enemy rushed upon us.” You could hear that, unmistakably.

After the “Chorus of People in the Temple” – written for a play after Sophocles – our musicians turned to “Joshua (Jesus Navin).” This was raucous, swaggering, swinging, providing for the well-ordered frenzy that is typical of Mussorgsky. The soprano soloist was Tatiana Pavlovskaya, whose instrument is classically Slavic, and who throbbed her way through her part movingly. The bass soloist was Sergei Murzaev, who sang with tremendous authority. You sat up in your chair as soon as he opened his mouth.

Mussorgsky’s choruses may not be great, but (a) hardly all music that is worthy is great, and (b) Maestro Conlon treated the choruses as great – which makes a huge difference, to a listener.

Rachmaninoff wrote “The Bells” in 1913, from poetry by our own – America’s own – Edgar Allan Poe (translated and adapted by Konstantin Balmont). That it is performed so seldom is a mystery, and a sadness. Of course, many works requiring a chorus are performed too seldom. In any case, I think a lot of us would trade some performances of Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto for some performances of “The Bells” (no offense to that marvelous concerto).

Mr. Conlon gave a rhapsodic, seamless, thoroughly musical reading. It was a wondrous ride, really. You could hear those bells – and those ideas about bells – in all their forms. Sleigh bells, wedding bells, alarm bells, death bells. Gratifyingly, this performance had no hint of kitsch.

The tenor soloist was Mikhael Gubsky, and he – quite appropriately for this work – was ringing. Ms. Pavlovskaya again sang, still Slavic, still throbbing, but also tender, where required. She had one shaky onset, but otherwise was blameless. And Mr. Murzaev was, as before, arresting.

In the final section, those bells tolling doom, we practically saw our lives flash before our eyes. But as Mr. Conlon wound down, he was more wistful than lugubrious, and the chorus evinced a kind of chin-up resignation. This is a sprawling, potentially messy work, but Mr. Conlon imposed a tightness on it (while of course giving Rachmaninoff room to breathe). One felt that one had been reintroduced to an old friend, these “Bells.”

The work on the second half of the program was the Shostakovich, his “Execution of Stepan Razin,” from 1964. Some claim that this is a masterwork, and stupidly neglected. I would not go that far – the work contains some bombast, as well as brilliance – but I understand those who do.

Stepan Razin was a bandit and popular hero in the 1600s, a Cossack Robin Hood. He is a symbol of anti-authority, which no doubt attracted Shostakovich and his audiences. Mr. Conlon – as we could expect by now – delivered a taut, rattling account. This was music-making on a knife-edge, or a baton-edge. Mr. Murzaev was the soloist/narrator/protagonist. He can be astoundingly heraldic. I once heard Leontyne Price say to a student in a master class, “You’re one of those stand-up-and-sing singers. I like that.” Mr. Murzaev is a stand-up-and-sing singer. There is no funny business about him; he gets the job done.

As did the conductor, and the orchestra, and the chorus. What is nationality when you have musicianship? Musicianship, remember, is all-covering.