Marc-André Hamelin, the Canadian pianist, is known for playing literature off the beaten track: the Alkan Concerto for solo piano, the Godowsky Grand Sonata — that sort of thing. He is also known for a monster technique. But he began his recital on Saturday night with a Mozart sonata.

This recital took place at Mannes College, and was the last recital of the International Keyboard Institute & Festival.

The Mozart sonata was the one in A minor, K. 310 — and, from Mr. Hamelin, it was strong, impassioned, and big. Very, very big. Too big? Probably. In the first movement, Mr. Hamelin provided plenty of dynamic contrast, which was excellent. And he applied a lot of pedal, which was less so. The bigness of his approach was acceptable (at a minimum). The muddiness, no.

Mozart’s second movement, Andante cantabile con espressione, was quite beautiful. But it also suffered from an overbigness — this was especially true in the turns and trills, which are more effective when more modest. Also, Mr. Hamelin showed a tendency to play on top of, rather than into, the keys. One result was that some notes failed to sound.

The final movement — Presto — had some smoky intensity, which was wonderful. But here too the music was marred by bigness. This Presto should creep and steal, rather than thunder. Also, the A-major stretch could have been far more angelic.

By the way, it was interesting to hear this amazing virtuoso stumble over Mozart — that is, have some technical difficulties.

He continued with the Chopin Nocturne in C-sharp minor, Op. 27, No. 1. The beginning was marred — ruined, actually — by strange hesitations. Why Mr. Hamelin chose not to play it relatively straight, I don’t know. Chopin needs to establish himself. But Mr. Hamelin pedaled expertly, which is critical in this piece. Also, he handled the fast, stormy middle section with ease.

The ending was a disappointment — it is one of the most beautiful in Chopin. Indeed, in all of music. But it was spoiled by Mr. Hamelin through two things: poor weightedness (i.e., accents, etc.) and ill-judged rubato (i.e., license with time). Ah, well.

But he followed this nocturne with its companion — the Nocturne in D flat, Op. 27, No. 2. This, Mr. Hamelin wove exquisitely. He demonstrated first-class piano playing — as he would for the rest of the evening.

He concluded the first half of his program with a Scriabin sonata — one that Vladimir Horowitz neglected to popularize. This was the Sonata No. 7, known as the “White Mass.” Mr. Hamelin played it with total confidence — confidence of fingers and confidence of mind. One had the impression of managed Romantic chaos — and that is how Scriabin should be played. At its best, the sonata was mesmerizing; at other times, it was “merely” interesting.

I should note, too, that Mr. Hamelin provided enough differentiation to keep the sonata from becoming Scriabin soup — which happens sometimes.

After intermission was the main event: the “Concord” Sonata of Charles Ives. More formally, this piece is the Piano Sonata No. 2, “Concord, Mass., 1840-60.” The movements are entitled “Emerson,” “Hawthorne,” “The Alcotts,” and “Thoreau.”

I heard a couple of people say afterward that they had never so appreciated the sonata — and I agree. The sonata is long, varied, and sprawling, and, from this pianist, it cohered. It had all its Ivesian elements: It was burly, tumultuous, nostalgic, and sweet. The third movement — “The Alcotts” — was absolutely beautiful. And, perhaps best of all, the sonata was played idiomatically, from beginning to end.

Mr. Hamelin has the technique for the sonata, that’s for sure. But he also had understanding and mental discipline. In addition, he performed a feat of memorization. Memorizing the “Concord” Sonata is not like memorizing a gavotte.

Ives’s piano masterwork will always be a minority taste. While I admire it highly, I’m not sure it needs to be so long. Then again, I think the same of “Così fan tutte.”

And, speaking of Mozart: Mr. Hamelin seemed to have greater control over the Scriabin and the Ives than he had over the Mozart. In a sense, Mozart is harder.

Mr. Hamelin played two encores, the first of his own composition: This was “Little Nocturne” (I believe he said), written at the request of Clavier magazine. It is little (yes), quirky, quasi-Impressionist, and charming. A winner. Then he finished with a kind of joke — an excellent joke. He played a “Diabelli” variation that Beethoven “neglected to compose”: incorporating “Chopsticks.” A hoot (and very clever).

Mr. Hamelin is a highly interesting and talented man, and an evening in his company is well spent.