As you know, programmers of concerts love to have a “theme.” It’s not enough to offer good or interesting music. The pieces have to “relate” to one another, forming an “integrated whole.” The program has to be musicologically correct.

Last Friday night, the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center staged a concert. And CMS’s artistic directors, David Finckel and Wu Han, had a written message for their audience: “As concert programmers, we are responsible for creating listening events that make sense to the ear, that offer coherent journeys in sound.”

This thinking is utterly representative of the music world today. It’s close to an official ideology. Two weeks ago, I heard Karita Mattila apologize for singing an encore that departed from the theme of her recital (or at least its second half ). It seems that everybody has swallowed the Kool-Aid.

In their written message, the artistic directors went on to say that, when planning the concert that featured the premiere of Nicholas Maw’s new sextet, they asked Mr. Maw “which composers he especially liked or had influenced his musical thinking.” He named some. And “we immediately took the opportunity to open the program with a selection of works that paves a musical path to the sextet’s premiere.”

They further told the audience, “We are sure that after first conversing with the composers so dear to Maw, you will find yourself at home with Maw’s own distinctive sound.” In her customary pre-concert speech, Wu Han repeated this same claim.

I, for one, am highly skeptical of such claims. You can will connections between virtually any two pieces (and all music is related, at some level). I believe that you can choose a group of pieces almost at random and claim that they “pave a musical path” to Nicholas Maw. The Chamber Music Society programmed Haydn, Schumann, Bruckner, Strauss, and Britten. Instead, you could have programmed Mozart, Schubert, Mahler, Schreker, and Finzi, and said, “See, see? A straight line to Maw!”

In any case, CMS offered a very attractive mixture of music on Friday night, no matter what the underlying claim or purpose. And these pieces received (mainly) excellent performances. Next to these facts, everything else pales.

Mr. Maw is a British composer, born in 1935, and he has long been resident in the United States. His sextet was commissioned by CMS itself, and it is a string sextet: for two violins, two violas, and two cellos. In addition, it has a subtitle: “Melodies from Drama.” Mr. Maw drew from his opera “Sophie’s Choice” (based on the Styron novel, of course) for this chamber work. And it is indeed songful. Its overall mood is hard to pin down: The music is sad and not sad. It is sort of wistful, nostalgic, gray. There is a dreaminess that is neither quite consoling nor quite disturbing.

Listening to this new work, I thought of the world’s favorite oxymoron: sweet sorrow. (And no matter how long Mr. Maw has been in America, that is a very British artistic trait.)

Frankly, the sextet sounds a bit like movie music — like a soundtrack — and I don’t mean that as a putdown. It is obviously the product of an accomplished mind, and a mind not enslaved by modernday compositional orthodoxies. My main two criticisms are these: There are squirmy, agitated bits between expressions of song, and these can seem so much filler. Also, the sextet is a little long for the material it has to offer.

I love to quote Earl Wild, the nonagenarian virtuoso pianist (and composer and transcriber): “Music should say what it has to say and get off the stage.”

At any rate, the Maw Sextet was ably played by the CMS musicians, with Ida Kavafian (violin), Paul Neubauer (viola), and Fred Sherry (cello) leading the way.

The concert had begun with Haydn’s Piano Trio in A, Hob. XV:18, a humble masterpiece. Participating were Ms. Kavafian, Mr. Sherry, and the pianist Anne-Marie McDermott. They played with refinement, elegance, and, where needed, spunk. Their respect for the music was notable and just. Ms. McDermott was perhaps overaggressive in the Andante, but that mattered little. This was a thoroughly enjoyable and professional account.

Then came Schumann’s Three Romances for Oboe and Piano, Op. 94. The oboist was Stephen Taylor, a mainstay of CMS and of about a thousand other groups and institutions across the country. In my judgment, he did not produce his best sound, but, interpretively, he was singer-like and satisfying. Ms. McDermott was a strong collaborator. It is important not to let Schumann get too saggy, and Ms. Dermott held firm (while being amply Romantic).

By the way, what a gift to oboists, this Schumann set.

Then we had Bruckner. What, one of those big symphonies? No, the Adagio from his String Quintet in F major. A famous and venerable violinist led the CMS five: Joseph Silverstein. He was joined by another violinist, Lily Francis (who is a former student of his); Mr. Neubauer and a second violist, Teng Li; and Mr. Sherry plus a second cellist, Priscilla Lee. (Ah, the joys of transliteration: Li and Lee.) Mr. Neubauer’s beauty of sound and sense of phrasing were invaluable. And the group’s playing overall was competent — even admirable — though it did not quite transport.

After Bruckner, Richard Strauss: the string sextet he wrote for his final opera, “Capriccio.” The playing was again competent, even admirable (sort of ). But it could have used a speck more beauty, and a speck more Straussian rapture. Mr. Silverstein played honestly and sincerely — but he was also a bit thin. Rising to the occasion were two young players sitting in principal chairs: Beth Guterman, viola, and the cellist Ms. Lee. Ms. Guterman in particular played with body and soul.

And one more piece was heard before the Maw Sextet took the stage. This was the “Phantasy Quartet” for oboe, violin, viola, and cello, written by Benjamin Britten when he was but a teenager. Playing with the oboist Mr. Taylor were Ms. Francis, Ms. Li, and Mr. Sherry. Their traversal of this piece was neat, precise, and marked. They brought out the strangeness, or the excellent peculiarity, of the music. They were intense, or, better, engaged — and musical engagement counts for a lot. Mr. Taylor was stylish and, where appropriate, soloistic – but the four players were superbly integrated. And Mr. Taylor produced a wonderful, first-rate sound.

Incidentally, Britten entered this piece in a competition, which he did not win. What, I wonder, could have been better?