An ongoing project of Gidon Kremer, the Latvian violinist, is the Kremerata Baltica, a collection of young musicians, all from the Baltic states. That name, Kremerata Baltica, is one of the most curious in music. If Anne-Sophie Mutter formed a similar group, would it be the Mutterata Germanica? If Joshua Bell did so, would it be the Bellata Midwestica?

Just kidding.

The Kremerata Baltica is an excellent crew, doing much good work, and they did some of it in Zankel Hall on Tuesday night. Mr. Kremer was at the head of a six some in a program called “Shostakovich and After.” And what constituted the “After” on this program? A new work by Alexander Wustin, a Russian in his early 60s. This was “Prinoshenie,” or “Offering,” for piano quartet and percussion (more specifically, jazz percussion). The work is dedicated to Mr. Kremer, “and to the memory of Shostakovich.”

It is a brief, zippy, zany piece, reflecting at least one of Shostakovich’s styles. And the Kremer group played it bracingly: The music was edgy, precise, impish. Toward the end, the “Offering” turns into a bit of a riot – but Mr. Kremer made sure the riot did not get out of hand.

The pianist, Andrius Zlabys, played with notable crispness, and the percussionists, Andrei Pushkarev and Dmytro Marchenko, were swift on their variety of instruments.

Then came the last work Shostakovich ever wrote, his Sonata for Viola and Piano in F Major, Op. 147 (1975). The sonata is filled with death, life, thoughts – and musical quotation. (The final movement, an Adagio, looks to Beethoven’s “Moonlight” Sonata.) The violist was Ula Ulijona, a Lithuanian, and she played wisely and beautifully, mainly letting Shostakovich speak for himself. (He has a lot to say.) Her tone tended to be “soulful,” to use a cliche where Russian music is concerned.

The first movement seemed far-seeing, mystical; the second had a catchy gypsy swing; and that third movement – the Adagio – was practically a mezzo aria, on that viola. The entire performance was direct and honest, without a hint of falsity or artifice. These musicians may be young, but their judgment is not.

To return to the pianist, Mr. Zlabys (another Lithuanian). He has obviously been extremely well taught. In parts of the Shostakovich, he was rightly delicate, almost Impressionistic, and when he was percussive, he was never harsh: He played into the keys, utterly pianistic. All night long, he did nothing offensive, which was remarkable. Every note had the proper weight, and every phrase was logical, and musical. He did not take Shostakovich, or Mr. Wustin, as an occasion for vulgarity. It would be a great pleasure to hear Mr. Zlabys in recital.

In recent weeks, New Yorkers have heard two big pianists: Martha Argerich (repeatedly) and Evgeny Kissin. I’m not sure I would prefer to hear either to hearing young Mr. Zlabys.

After intermission, five of the six players gathered to present Shostakovich’s last symphony, No.15, in an arrangement for piano trio and percussion by Victor Derevyanko and the aforementioned percussionist Mr. Pushkarev. This is a neat, neat arrangement, performing kind of a service for the symphony. Like the viola sonata, this work has an otherworldliness, and an oddness, and an air of leave-taking. It too is full of quotation: For example, the final movement begins with a telling motive from Wagner’s “Ring.” Mr. Kremer and his charges played it with such perception and plainness – a musical plainness – that I thought I was at the Metropolitan Opera, with James Levine.

From the technical point of view, the five made a crack team. All through the symphony, they were disciplined, together – they might have been conducted by Toscanini. Even the pizzicatos were accurate!

The first movement had its looniness, but a looniness with a lid on it: Mr. Kremer does not allow hyperbole (except where it is demanded). In the second movement, the cellist, Kristine Blaumane, sang out in an affecting way. The third movement was brilliantly etched, and that fourth was stunning: It never got bogged down, was never beguiled by its own profundity.

Above all, this ensemble was alive, engaged – they played as though there were something at stake in this symphony, and in this concert. The standard of the evening was unusually high.

I sometimes observe that the best thing you can say about a new work of music is that you’d like to hear it again – and I would say that about Mr. Wustin’s. One did not have to wait long – about an hour and a half.

The Kremerata Baltica played a true encore (meaning “again”), repeating “Prinoshenie” but not with the former skill and zip. That can be forgiven: They had provided one of the most satisfying concerts of the season.