Big orchestra, small country. The Oslo Philharmonic visited Carnegie Hall for two concerts with its music director, Andre Previn, and two starry soloists, one of them the conductor’s wife. Wednesday night’s program offered Debussy, Strauss … and Previn (as in, music of). Last night’s program served up Ravel – lots of it – and Gershwin, with the mezzo Denyce Graves singing “Sheherazade,” and Mr. Previn playing the Concerto in F (while conducting as well, of course).

(Want to feel old? Mr. Previn’s 1971 cut of the concerto, with the London Symphony Orchestra, is now a Great Recording of the Century, from EMI Classics.)

Composer, conductor, pianist – Mr. Previn presented himself in all of his roles this week. Or rather, in some of them: He is also a beautifully gifted prose stylist. Damn him.

Mr. Previn – who will be 76 next month – is in his third season with the Oslo Phil. This is not the best orchestra of which he has been music director, but it is a creditable one, tended by Mariss Jansons from 1979 until Mr. Previn took over in 2002. Mr.Jansons,as it happens, will begin a three-concert series at Carnegie Hall with the Vienna Philharmonic tonight.

Wednesday’s concert began with Debussy’s “Prelude a l’apres-midi d’un faune,” and, off the bat, Mr. Previn showed something characteristic: He let the flutist – who opens the piece – begin when he was ready, and he did not conduct a smidge during that solo. (Would our Lorin – Maazel – be so liberal?) Mr. Previn is an unobtrusive, economical conductor, always doing more with less. He composes, plays the piano, and writes this way, too.

But what was I saying? The orchestra, after the flute solo, committed a blundering entrance. Later, however, the piece began to shimmer, with Mr. Previn breathing beautifully. This was a gentle, delicate, intelligent performance. A little sleepy, frankly. Mr. Previn’s tempo was slow, or deliberate, if you prefer. But the piece was nicely layered, and lovely.

Speaking of frankness: The Norwegians did not exactly demonstrate technical mastery. And the concertmaster, though sweet-toned, was a little flat.

Taking the stage next was another violinist, Anne-Sophie Mutter, Mrs. Previn. Her task was to play the Previn Violin Concerto, written for her in 2001. New Yorkers have heard this before: from the New York Philharmonic (with Mr. Previn and Ms. Mutter the principals, of course). On Wednesday night, Ms. Mutter played the concerto – her concerto – even better.

The piece is filled with nostalgia, Mr. Previn recalling his childhood in Germany. (His family had the wit, and the means, to get out in time.) You can hear a bit of the movies in this concerto, but then, that is usually the case with Mr. Previn, and not so bad. The piece is intricately crafted. If we accept Ned Rorem’s law that a composer is either “German” or “French,” Mr. Previn is decidedly French.

Ms. Mutter was in wonderful shape – gorgeous tones, accurate intonation, natural phrasing, keen musical sensitivity. She is a great violinist when she wants to be – and shockingly un-great on other occasions – and here she was at her peak. The Oslo Philharmonic, too, rose to the occasion. For example, it caught the bloom in Mr. Previn’s music, and in his baton.

This was a definitive performance, and to that you might say, “Duh – the composer was conducting, and his wife and dedicatee was the soloist.” But not so fast: These are two first-rate musicians, regardless. Plenty of people screw up their own music. (I have my list, and I bet you have yours, too.)

One might also ask the question, Will we ever hear anyone else play this concerto? Sure. I can readily imagine Gil Shaham in it, with Mr. Previn on the podium. (The two frequently collaborate, though perhaps not as closely as the conductor and Mrs. P.)

You may wish to ask another question – strictly outside musical boundaries: How did Ms. Mutter look? Well, all I can tell you is that, when Anne-Sophie walked out, the friend sitting next to me – female, and quite straight – said, “Hubba hubba.” Yes.

On the second half of the program was the “Alpine Symphony” of Strauss, a partly brilliant thing, but not that composer’s most perfect work. It can be very hard to manage, from the podium, and you seldom hear a good performance of it. But Mr. Previn handled it with command and ease (no surprise). It was panoramic, coloristic – nearly everything it should be. Mr. Previn’s dynamics, in particular, were shrewd. He got what he wanted with a minimum of movement. Covering this account was his taste – tastefulness being perhaps his foremost quality.

As with the Debussy, this was not a technically guiltless performance – a climactic moment with cymbals was botched – and I maintain, much as I adore Strauss,that the “Alpine Symphony”struggles to sustain interest,no matter who wields the baton. But Mr. Previn is an exemplar.

Walking onto and off the stage, he was quite slow-moving, perhaps hindered by some temporary infirmity. Could this be the whippersnapper from Hollywood who set the music world on its ear by doing everything, and doing it right? Yes, indeed.