The weekend saw recitals from two instruments that don’t often have such a spotlight: the clarinet and the cello. Pianists, violinists, and singers had to wait their turn, for once.

We’ll begin with the cellist, who was Truls Mørk. A Norwegian, he has emerged powerfully on the scene in recent seasons, and thank goodness for that: Man cannot live on Yo-Yo Ma, or even Mstislav Rostropovich, alone. (Well, maybe one can live on Mr. Rostropovich alone.) Mr. Mørk is nearing outright stardom, with varied appearances around the globe. He is part of a talent-rich trio whose other members are Gil Shaham, violin, and Yefim Bronfman, piano.

He played his recital at Alice Tully Hall yesterday afternoon, with the British pianist Kathryn Stott. Ms. Stott collaborates frequently with Mr. Ma, so you might suppose her a specialist in playing with the cello – but she is a versatile pianist, whose discography includes the complete solo works of Faure. (Complete solo works for piano, I should say.)

Yesterday’s inviting and well arranged program started with Myaskovsky’s Cello Sonata No. 1 in D, written in 1911, but revised in 1945. This is a beautifully Romantic work, with touches of the folk, and of Modernism. Our two musicians rendered it splendidly. They are much alike, in that they exude taste and refinement.

Mr. Mørk, to begin with, gives you a gorgeous tone, but one that is streamlined. It can be sweet in the upper register, and arresting – almost rattling – in the lower register (and vice versa, I suppose, if the cellist desires). In the Myaskovsky, he used a judicious amount of portamento, and conveyed melancholy, tenderness, plaintiveness, or urgency, as the score asks. He is a thoughtful musician, but not studied. He has thought about the music – hard, it seems – but it comes out naturally.

Ms. Stott proved very sensitive, very musical, not emotive but expressive. And she has more than a little technique, never having to struggle, overtly, with anything.

The program continued with Prokofiev’s Cello Sonata, which the composer wrote for Mr. Rostropovich – it is one of Prokofiev’s best works, and thus no mean achievement. In it, Mr. Mørk was vital and masculine, but also delicate where needed. He and Ms. Stott struck an admirable balance between Western elegance and Slavic roughness (if I may simplify, perhaps crudely).And the pianist, to her credit, did not try to overcomplicate Prokofiev’s writing.

In the second movement, Mr. Mørk demonstrated some puckish pizzicato, and some slithery double stops. Ms. Stott, too, was suitably impish. And they ended this movement with perfect – utterly perfect – timing. Could they do it, oh, three times in a row? Who cares? They did it when it counted.

The final movement is dazzling, and it was played so by this duo. You can hear some of Prokofiev’s ballet “Romeo and Juliet” here. Mr. Mørk’s soft passagework was shiver-making. You could complain that the composer’s wacky quality went underemphasized, that this rendition was a little sober – but it convinced.

To begin the second half of the program was a work by Janacek, “Pohadka.” Seems to be a lot of Janacek around, no? That’s because he was born in 1854, making this his 150th birthday, and if the music world doesn’t have anniversaryitis, it has nothing.

“Pohadka,” or “Fairy Tale,” is taken from – or inspired by – poetry of Zhukovsky, and Mr. Mørk and Ms. Stott approached it with a spirit of fantasy. They seemed, indeed, to be relating a fairy tale, although it was anyone’s guess what the plot was. The two played with great precision and cohesion, giving off a delicious, and slightly cracked, whimsy.

Their program closed with the Cello Sonata of Chopin, which many of us don’t regard as his best work, although its (brief) Largo is superb. Our musicians attacked the sonata with gusto, in addition to their ever-present tastefulness. Mr. Mørk sang throughout, and Ms. Stott backed him up with flowing, forthright pianism. The Largo was magnificent – mainly because it wasn’t slopped through, emoted through, but accorded dignity. That is just what this music needs.

The concluding Allegro was graced with a sense of forward movement, supplied by both cellist and pianist.

Encores? There was one, Rachmaninoff’s beloved “Vocalise,” one of the most transcribed works in music. You might think that the “Vocalise” requires a higher register than the cello – but Mr. Mørk made his case. Imagine, if you can, the baritone Matthias Goerne singing it.

It should be noted that Truls Mørk, a Norwegian musician, performed an entire recital without a speck of Grieg. Forgetting whether this is desirable: Is it legal?

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And now to our clarinet recital – which came from Richard Stoltzman, one of the handful of clarinetists to make a go of a solo career. In fact, he might be regarded as the pioneer: He gave the first clarinet recital ever at Carnegie Hall. His gig Saturday night was at the 92nd St. Y, in the company of pianist Jeremy Denk.

Somewhat touching about this program was that Mr. Stoltzman played recent works by two of his teachers. But he began with Schubert’s Sonata in D, Op. 137, No. 1 – one of those sonatas for violin that clarinetists sometimes borrow. Mr. Stoltzman, and Mr. Denk, gave a fine account of it. Beauty of sound is not necessarily Mr. Stoltzman’s strength: He could be buzzy, pinched, strident. But he also made attractive sounds, and revealed many musical gifts.

He phrased the Andante movement beautifully, even hinting at the gypsy. Mr. Denk, throughout the Schubert, played self-confidently, even boldly. In the Andante, his playing was more detached, and heavier, than it might have been. Both men gave the closing Allegro vivace ample character, including humor. They had sort of a jolly conversation with each other.

Clarinetist and pianist then turned to a piece written two years ago by Yehudi Wyner, from whom Mr. Stoltzman took an opera course at Yale. It is “Commedia,” as in Dante. As Mr. Wyner said in his own program note, “The music is never just one thing: it is in constant flux.” It is busy, merry, mischievous, songful, drooping, tart. It keeps you on your toes.

The opening tempo marking is “LABOOH.” Meaning? Meaning “like a bat out of hell.” Mr. Stoltzman had no problem with “Commedia,” and neither did Mr. Denk. Each played with dexterity and heart – and Mr. Wyner has given clarinetists something that they should enjoy for generations.

At this point, the evening became a piano recital, as Mr. Denk took the stage alone for Schumann’s “Faschingsschwank aus Wien” (“Carnival Jest from Vienna”).This is one of that composer’s most winsome works, and Mr. Denk did creditably by it. All the notes were there, although sometimes coordination between the hands was ragged. You could argue that the Scherzino should have been lighter, but at least it wasn’t superficial, played on top of the keys. Mr. Denk is rather a “vertical” pianist, employing a thick tone. He can also remind you that the piano is a percussion instrument.

The Intermezzo section, Mr. Denk played swooningly, as one should, although it would have been nice to hear more singing from that fifth finger of the right hand, which has the melody. The Finale was high-spirited, if somewhat pounded.

After intermission, Mr. Stoltzman returned – by himself – to play “Un Seul,” composed in 1998 for him by Kalmen Opperman. Mr. Opperman is the dean of clarinet masters, and Mr. Stoltzman’s own teacher. He studied with Mr. Opperman at Columbia – and goes to him even now.

Mr. Stoltzman explained to the audience that, in former times, teachers would compose pieces for their charges in order to aid the study of certain things. Mr. Opperman wrote “Un Seul” so as to encourage “the proper playing of a melody, with the right line and the right phrasing. I’m going to try.” I have reason to believe that the teacher – born in 1919, and in the audience – was pleased. Mr. Stoltzman acquitted himself with both mastery and feeling.

And this piece is more than just an exercise: It is a beautiful and moving work, with a flavor of the Hebraic, as I heard it.

Mr. Stoltzman, with Mr. Denk, then went on to the “Four Pieces,” Op. 5, by Berg. Mr. Stoltzman explained that Berg composed these for the private concerts of his teacher, Schoenberg, and that there were a few rules for these concerts: For one thing, no critics, and for another, no applause. Well, the 92nd St. Y wasn’t entirely free of critics, but Mr. Stoltzman asked the audience not to applaud, and they obliged. All four of Berg’s pieces were nicely calibrated, nicely judged, with the third piece – Scherzo – wonderfully quirky. Mr. Stoltzman displayed the necessary variety of tones.

But when he got to the final work on the program – Brahms’s Sonata in E flat, Op. 120, No. 2 – he lacked the full, round, even lush tone that this music likes. He was still sort of weak, etiolated, from the final Berg piece (he had gone right into the Brahms, without a pause). Still, Mr. Stoltzman knows this sonata inside and out, and has an obvious affinity for it. Mr. Denk brought forth a key Brahmsian quality: nobility.

A clarinet recital may be a relatively rare thing, but it deserves to be less rare, with so ample a literature, and exponents so able and likable as Richard Stoltzman.