To speak of such mundane matters as technique when one plays at such an exalted level as Evgeny Kissin is a bit precious; suffice it to say that he has achieved a state of total self-confidence and consistent excellence of execution. Now past the age necessary to prove himself, Mr. Kissin can settle in to a long career of musical communication on the most poetic of planes. Certainly the sold-out audience at Carnegie Hall on Monday evening, with the addition of a huge contingent of stage seats, asserts his popularity. His mission now is to perform big works in a style normally reserved for those larger-than-life legends of the past.

It is tempting to characterize all living performers as intrinsically inferior to the denizens of some nebulous “golden age,” but if I were to loosen the grip of nostalgia just a tad, I would be willing to admit Mr. Kissin as at least an apprentice at the entrance to the halls of musical Valhalla. As a teenager, he exhibited – like Midori – a mature conception of each piece that he performed, a secret knowledge revealed that he already understood the process necessary to reach the emotional center of each work, even when the journey was only partially traveled. Now is his moment: He can apparently achieve this state of satori at will, given enough time to prepare properly. Nothing, every moment of this recital seemed to emphasize, is beyond his reach.

The first half was devoted to Chopin. Mr. Kissin explored eight pieces, some very familiar and some relatively obscure. Each work was given a unique stamp: This was not merely a “greatest hits” survey. There was something new and different, scholarly and revelatory, about each individual morsel.

The Polonaise in C-sharp minor, Op. 26, No. 1 was offered with both big and small changes of metronomic rhythm. Its famous mate in E-flat minor opened extremely mysteriously, even ghostly, as Mr. Kissin built a terrifically eloquent crescendo. He was obliged to stop at this point for the inevitable latecomers, although it appeared that he would have preferred to perform the entire splendid octet without pause.

Some old friends followed, including a gloriously arpeggiated Impromptu in F-sharp major, Op. 36 and the extremely popular Fantasie-Impromptu in C-sharp minor. I would be happy to chase rainbows with Evgeny Kissin whenever he asked.

I am often one to praise the clear distinction between left and right hands in a pianist of high technical merit, but apparently there is an even higher level achievable by the elect. Before the final two Polonaises, I realized that with Mr. Kissin, one is not even aware of the fact that a pianist has hands: Everything is perfectly seamless and tonally integrated.

This last pair simply belonged to the ages. After the unhurried narrative styling of the C Minor, Op. 40, No. 2, Mr. Kissin presented a “Heroic” that was brilliant, but in new and exciting ways. Initially, its loud percussive nature was downplayed in favor of a more regal, ceremonial rubato, but soon this necromancer proved to be more a Horowitz than a Rubinstein, pumping up the volume and the ecstasy to a delicious penultimate moment. And then the real artistry was unveiled. In the highly dramatic ending, he took the trouble to intone just two notes softly before returning to the louder declamation. The discipline and concentration to be able to do this at such a brisk tempo was awe-inspiring. It was difficult not to gasp.

After intermission, we were treated to a reasonably well-known work from a totally obscure composer. At least, those of us who love the piano music of Nicolai Medtner know it. Showing his lower case “r” romantic side, Mr. Kissin developed a particularly dreamy Sonata Reminiscenza that had the crowd intent on every quiet note.

What Mr. Kissin has not outgrown is his need to exhibit his virtuosity (many pianists never do). Petrouchka started embryonic life as a piano concerto and so it is somewhat more adaptable to the keyboard than many other orchestral scores. What we heard was the suite that Artur Rubinstein commissioned Stravinsky to fashion. The composer was actually a bit of an odd choice for this particular arranging task, as he never employed a piano as part of his compositional technique. The resulting pastiche is somewhat questionable musically, but certainly emphasizes the “I’m Evgeny Kissin and you’re not” side of this master showman. It was impossible not to admire his dexterity, especially in the opening of the Shrovetide Fair section, but is this trip really necessary?

So what we have here is a genuine immortal in training. Hopefully, he can program some concerts going forward that are strictly cerebral. For now he can assert, with great personal passion, the words of Hermann Hesse that “at about the age of six or seven, I realized that of all the invisible powers the one I was destined to be most strongly affected and dominated by was music.”