A 75th birthday is a big deal, in the music world, not least. Attend concerts long enough, and you will experience many a 75th-birthday gala. Lorin Maazel had one last month, with his New York Philharmonic. And on Saturday night, at Alice Tully Hall, it was the turn of Russell Sherman, the pianist.

Mr. Sherman is much admired by his peers, and his crowd included many pianists, and piano connoisseurs. The birthday boy has had a rich career, as performer, teacher, and author. He is not dissimilar to Earl Wild, another American pianist with big hands, a big technique, and a taste for the most Lisztian repertory (by Liszt and others). In fact, Mr. Sherman’s 75th-birthday recital reminded me somewhat of Mr. Wild’s 85th, given in November 2000 at Carnegie Hall. Will we have a 90th-birthday recital next November? I certainly hope so.

Mr. Sherman began his recital with Beethoven’s Sonata in E flat, Op. 7, and strange as it may be to say about so experienced a musician, he seemed quite nervous, botching phrase after phrase. The first movement, in particular, was highly Romanticized, with unwanted swellings, ritards, and hesitations, plus loads of pedal. Very few lines were even; octaves were wispy. Mr. Sherman did not do justice to himself.

The slow movement was decently shaped, evincing some of Beethoven’s nobility, but Mr. Sherman’s idiosyncracies continued: The detached notes in the left hand were alarmingly unsteady, and many of them failed to sound. The third movement – Allegro – had some dash, though it was chopped up and poked at. And the Rondo passed uneventfully, which was just as well.

This was dreadful playing, but the good news is that Mr. Sherman got better – much. Next on the program were two Debussy preludes – “Bruyeres” and “Ondine” – which Mr. Sherman played like the master of his reputation. Both pieces were nicely colored and controlled. Fingers gained nimbleness; nervousness seemed to drain.

And he tucked into Bartok’s “Out of Doors” – the next work on the program – commandingly. Mr. Sherman accorded this suite Bartok’s strangeness, emotion, and (yes) Impressionism. The third movement, Musettes, had the right anxiety, and the closing Chase was heart-racing.

After intermission, Mr. Sherman turned to Liszt, beginning with that composer’s “Jeux d’eaux a la Villa d’Este.” Mr. Sherman had most of the notes, and the High Romantic sensibility, although this was not a dazzling and convincing performance. (Zoltan Kocsis played this piece at the 92nd St.Y last season – that was a dazzling and convincing performance.)

Mr. Sherman then left the Villa d’Este to embrace Liszt’s “Soiree de Vienne” No. 6, after Schubert. This is the piece so closely associated with Wilhelm Backhaus, and Louis Lortie played it at Carnegie Hall a few weeks ago. Mr. Sherman’s was not a worthy performance: The piece was devoid of charm, wistfulness, nostalgia, grace. Mr. Sherman was blunt and effortful. He has done better before, and will do so again.

He ended the printed program with Liszt’s “Don Giovanni” paraphrase – formally titled “Reminiscences de Don Juan” – one of the most notorious circus acts in the piano literature. Vladimir Horowitz and Lang Lang are only two of the supervirtuosi who have caused gasps with it. Mr. Sherman got through it, which is an achievement of sorts. There was some impressive piano playing, to go with the shabby. And it must be said that his “La ci darem la mano” was better than conductor Philippe Jordan’s at the Met the other night: Mr. Sherman’s tempos were more sensible.

His fans at Alice Tully Hall poured love on him, filling his arms with bouquets. He favored them with several encores, dispatched in his loose, personal style. When we hear a pianist like this, we often say, “He’s the last of a breed.” Frankly, there have been many “lasts,” and there will be many more. Louis Lortie and Stephen Hough are young, and Lang Lang and Arcadi Volodos are younger still. The Romantic tradition is not dead; it’s not even sick. And the example of such as Russell Sherman is responsible.

***

Over the weekend, the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center did something unusual: It staged two concerts, the first halves of which were song recitals, the second halves of which offered a piano trio. All the music was Schubert’s. Singer and pianist on Friday night were Nathan Gunn and Julie Gunn, husband and wife. Singer and pianist on Sunday afternoon were Heidi Grant Murphy and Kevin Murphy, wife and husband.

Ain’t it sweet? (The answer is: yes.)

Nathan Gunn is an American baritone, who owns a beautiful, lyric instrument. Among his gifts is an exquisite head voice, and, indeed, his baritone can seem quite tenorial. This is an enviable instrument.

His singing on Friday night was less enviable. He and Mrs. Gunn performed eight Schubert songs, the first of which was “Viola,” an uncommonly long song that takes us on one of those heartbreaking journeys. Mr. Gunn did not begin well: The first word is “Schneeglocklein,” and we heard that “Sch” a mile off – he might have been telling the audience to keep quiet! (That was not necessary, for once.) And his initial notes were jarringly flat. Flatness would be a problem throughout his set.

A deeper problem, however, was a kind of flatness of spirit. These songs often sagged, interpretively. For example, “Frühlingsglaube” was slow and mannered. That title means “Faith in Spring,” and this rendition seemed to lack faith in spring. “Auf der Bruck” is one of Schubert’s most vigorous songs – it is almost supercharged – yet from the Gunns it was rather limp. It needed get-up-and-go. Mr. Gunn is a most relaxed singer, and, on this occasion, he could have used more tension, more drama. This is extremely rare: Usually singers could use less tension, and drama (of the wrong sort).

“Romanze” was stilted, its tempos undecided, its shape lost – some straightforwardness would have been lovely. “Nachtviolen” was pleasant enough. And the final song, “Die Taubenpost,” had a nice smile and bounce.

Mind you, there was nothing disgraceful about any of these songs. None of them was a failure. But I’m not sure that any of them was a clear success, either. I’m not sure that one of them really hit the mark, transporting the listener where Schubert wishes him to go.

I will report one touching fact, not directly related to music-making. As Julie Gunn introduced certain songs, Nathan Gunn simply stepped aside and looked at her, rather than facing the audience and gazing intently ahead, as is conventional.

Sweet, indeed.

On this first program, the pianist Andre-Michel Schub, the violinist Cho-Liang Lin, and the cellist Gary Hoffman played Schubert’s Trio No. 1 in B flat – on Sunday afternoon, they would play the Trio No. 2 in E flat. These three are stalwarts of the Chamber Music Society, and, given their track record, one had the right to expect a first-rate performance. This did not come to pass.

To begin with, Mr. Lin had a poor outing, his tone unfocused, his fingers uncertain. And, in the first movement, Mr. Hoffman was uncharacteristically mannered – committing arty hesitations, for example. Schubert doesn’t need this kind of “help”; his poetry is plain in the score. Mr. Schub, however, was in fine form, exhibiting his usual graceful, limpid line, as well as the Schubertian spirit.

The slow movement is one of the most beautiful songs Schubert ever wrote, and Mr. Hoffman did some nice singing in it. Most gratifyingly, he did not try to art it up. And Mr. Schub was notable for another of his qualities: a musical modesty. This is a musician whose taste seldom fails.

After the Andante, Schubert gives us a friendly scherzo, and, from these three, we could have used more friendliness, and warmth. Also a bit more sparkle. The inner section, however, had a fetching lyricism, led by Mr. Lin. And when the principal section returned, Mr. Schub infused it with life.

The Rondo, too, is friendly, and the players read through it unobjectionably. To their credit, they did not let Schubert become soup; they gave him the definition he requires. Unfortunately, the Rondo was marred by a bout of flatness from Mr. Lin.

As with the Gunns’ songs, this was not a poor performance – but it suffered from what I dub the quality of okayness. Is okayness better than poorness? Sure. But an evening of okayness – especially of Schubert, somehow – can be deadening.