Sir Colin Davis, the eminent and excellent conductor, will turn 80 in September. But the New York Philharmonic has gotten an early celebratory jump. Sir Colin led them in a series of concerts last week. And he is now leading them in a series that ends tomorrow. His soloist last week was the pianist Mitsuko Uchida, who played a Mozart concerto. His soloist this week is another pianist, Radu Lupu, playing another Mozart concerto.

And on Wednesday night, Sir Colin conducted a special concert, between series. He had his two soloists on hand, playing those same Mozart concertos — plus the Mozart concerto for two pianos. And Sir Colin conducted a symphony, with which the concert began.

This was Mozart’s Symphony No. 32 in G, K. 318. It is short, littleknown, and splendid — pure Mozart. And Sir Colin is a next-to-unbeatable Mozartean (as he is a next-to-unbeatable Berlioz man, Sibelius man, etc.). He had the Philharmonic playing beautifully and cohesively. This playing was resonant, elegant, and un-“period”-like — but perfectly correct.

To hear Mozart in this fashion was not just a pleasure, but a relief. It was like walking into the sun, after a season of cold. The period groups have much to offer, but they can be a hard and ungenerous lot.

There was tension in Sir Colin’s conducting — no sagging — but there was never unreasonable tension. There was no unreasonable anything. He is a moderate and sensible maestro, although those words may make him sound dull, which he certainly is not. What he is is tasteful — as a British musician should be.

Ms. Uchida’s concerto was that in F major, K. 459. And when Sir Colin and the Philharmonic began this piece, their sheer, unforced merriness was a joy to the ear. They would continue in this vein, pretty much all through. And Ms. Uchida was at her Mozartean best: crisp yet smooth, marked yet pearly. And she was just about as tasteful as her conductor. Phrasing from both of them was inarguable, and so were tempos.

At one point in the middle movement, Ms. Uchida played with a fairy grace; and so did the Philharmonic’s principal flute, Robert Langevin.

And yet this performance was not completely problem-free. In the opening of that middle movement — Allegretto — Sir Colin and the orchestra were somewhat heavy and ungainly. Ms. Uchida was a little stiff and tight in some passagework, especially in the first movement. And in the Allegretto, her sustained notes did not quite sing — they plinked and died.

But, speaking of that which is sustained, her long trill in the final movement was really, really good. As was Ms. Uchida in general.

Mr. Lupu’s concerto was the last Mozart wrote, although it is important to remember that Mozart did not expect or intend it to be his last (heaven knows). This is the Concerto in B flat, K. 595. And, in the opening Allegro, Mr. Lupu was a little too laidback, almost sleepy. He was competent, of course, but some stodginess intruded — and that quality is foreign to Mozart. The cadenza, however, was as stylish as could be.

And in the Larghetto, Mr. Lupu really shone. He rendered Mozart’s music beautifully, letting it be simple, but giving it breadth. His singing was exemplary. And he shaped the last movement like a true musical craftsman. (So did Mozart, I should add.) Some of Mr. Lupu’s passagework was so silky, it was hard to believe he was playing a percussion instrument.

But for my money, this movement could have been a bit more lively, from both pianist and conductor. Mr. Lupu might even have let loose a little brilliance toward the end. Also, he had a memory slip, and missed some notes — he didn’t play wrong notes; they simply failed to sound. As a pianist who admires him said at intermission, “I guess Radu is human.” Aren’t we all.

Mozart wrote his two-piano concerto — in E flat, K. 365 — for two of his favorite pianists: himself and his sister, Nannerl. Like a good brother, he apportioned the parts equally, with one not dominating the other. And Ms. Uchida and Mr. Lupu, and Sir Colin and the New York Philharmonic, did justice to this wonderful piece. Their account was refined, poetic, and unusually beautiful. The two pianists matched tones, and matched sensibilities.

And yet, the last movement, especially, was a little polite, a little restrained — especially on Mr. Lupu’s end of things. More play, more of Mozart’s joie de vivre, would have been nice. But still, this concerto hit its mark, and the performers could bow with satisfaction.

There was one main problem with this 80th-birthday concert — not enough Sir Colin, alone with the orchestra. But he is not an egotistical conductor (certainly as conductors go). He is just — just! — a superb one.