As so often in the past, the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra came to Carnegie Hall, for a three-concert stand. They played on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. And they were led by Valery Gergiev, the mercurial Russian maestro.

As you may know, the VPO has no permanent conductor; instead, they invite an endless series of guests. And the combination of Mr. Gergiev and the VPO proved potent.

On Friday night, their program was all-orchestral, no soloist. They began with excerpts from Berlioz’s “Roméo et Juliette,” that highly Romantic work. And Mr. Gergiev was in a highly Romantic mood.

The music had color, character, and all the things we expect in Berlioz. Tempos were undragging. Mr. Gergiev was “fully committed,” as the restaurant people say, firing on all cylinders. Sometimes, he can appear a mad, batonless magician. And so he was on this occasion.

In a public interview with me in Salzburg last summer, Mr. Gergiev said that the biggest sin a conductor can commit is to be boring. He added, “It is also the second- and third-biggest sins.” In “Roméo et Juliette,” Mr. Gergiev was never boring. About Berlioz, I am not equally sure: To some of us, his “Roméo,” like others of his works, has longueurs.

In any case, the VPO was in glorious form, as can be expected. The strings were impossibly rich and warm (and accurate). The brass were unblaring, and unflubbing. The percussion were both timely and tasteful.

The “Queen Mab” Scherzo is hard to bring off, needing to be gossamer, precise, fairy-like. And, on Friday night, this excerpt had its due: We were all sprinkled with the appropriate dust.

After intermission, Mr. Gergiev and the VPO began with the Prelude and Liebestod from Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde.” This conductor is a proven Wagnerian, and he proved himself again in this concert.

He shaped the music wisely, letting it breathe, letting it have its crests. All the while, he fluttered his hands, like Furtwängler. VPO instrumentalists, in their solos, were singerly. Still, we do miss the soprano in this music — in the Liebestod.

Whenever I hear this orchestral Liebestod, I think of an old series called “Music Minus One.” You bought an LP of some concerto, which had only the orchestral part; and you, at home, supplied the solo part.

If you would like to hear “Tristan und Isolde,” singers and all, try the Metropolitan Opera, starting a week from today.

In my view, the Prelude and Liebestod from “T&I” should end a concert, just as the Liebestod ends the opera. It should not be followed by anything. It is a final statement. But Mr. Gergiev, or someone, had other ideas — and this concert ended with a Debussy masterpiece, “La Mer.”

Again, the VPO worked its tonal magic. I often say that sound isn’t everything, sure; but it is not nothing, either. And, no matter what else is happening, the Vienna Philharmonic can provide sound in spades.

Again, Mr. Gergiev worked his own magic, riding the waves of this three-sectioned work. “La Mer” had unusual intensity, with no letup; at the same time, it was not driven (unduly so). And the skill with which Mr. Gergiev led into the third section — “Dialogue of the Wind and the Sea” — was remarkable. The shift was barely perceptible, but arresting.

It must be said that this was not an especially French account of “La Mer.” Clear, sinewy, and bracing, it sounded somewhat like strong Russian Romanticism. Mr. Gergiev conducts a Tchaikovsky symphony not much differently. Be that as it may, “La Mer” was exciting as hell.

And the audience was treated to an encore — something Viennese, appropriately enough, a polka by Strauss the Younger. From these forces, it had both dash and insouciance. And that little current of electricity that seems to emit naturally from Valery Gergiev.