Without Guy Lombardo and the Royal Canadians, where do you go for music on New Year’s Eve? The New York Philharmonic will do. They usually put on a pretty good show, and they did so on Monday night. Avery Fisher Hall was decked out, and so were many of the patrons: A few wore masks, as in glittering days of old. Fittingly enough, “A Masked Ball” is among the offerings at the Metropolitan Opera, across the plaza. Members of the New York Philharmonic were decked out, too, with principal violist Cynthia Phelps — to the right of the conductor’s podium — particularly prominent. She wore a red strapless jobbie.

Maestro Lorin Maazel wore his usual tux, and he led his orchestra after a long absence. Beginning the evening was “A Sorcerer’s Apprentice” by Dukas, a piece that should be right up Mr. Maazel’s alley. It calls on wizardly powers. I said this the last time I heard Mr. Maazel conduct this piece — and he unfortunately laid an egg. Monday evening’s effort was much better.

He began the piece slow and sober, calibrating it carefully, saving up for the hell that would break loose. And that hell broke loose fairly effectively. But, on balance, this was a rather blunt and obvious rendition of Dukas’s minor masterwork. Mr. Maazel is a more magical, scintillating, and sorcerer-like conductor than he showed.

The orchestra’s special guest was Joshua Bell, the talented, romantic violinist, and, indeed, the evening was titled “The Romantic Violin.” Mr. Bell did not look very New Year’s Evey. He had on his usual solid-black Mao suit. This bespeaks, to me, a certain lack of imagination.

But there was no lack of imagination in his playing. He started out with Saint-Saëns’s Introduction and Rondo capriccioso, and treated it with tender loving care. Frankly, he was Kreislerian: in tone, phrasing, dynamics, and general style. He played some bad notes, to be sure: some scratchy and flat ones. But this was a gratifying performance.

And Mr. Maazel accompanied the violinist shrewdly. I must say that the conductor’s musical aggressiveness at the beginning of the rondo was fantastic. On the subject of Kreisler, Mr. Bell played him — played two pieces by Kreisler, “Liebesleid” and “Liebesfreud.” It could well be that Mr. Bell is the best Kreisler player now active. Those who wish to see for themselves can consult the Kreisler album that Mr. Bell made in 1995 (for the London label), with Paul Coker, pianist.

“Liebesleid” was wonderful, and blessedly unslow. This piece has been killed many times by slowness. Moreover, Mr. Bell played the piece with no sentimentalism at all — just pure feeling. “Liebesfreud” was a little less fine, with some disunity between violinist and orchestra. Also, the beginning of the piece was strangely ploppy and staccato — not very musical. And, at various points, Mr. Bell’s technique betrayed him a little.

Mr. Maazel closed the first half of the program with selections from Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake,” in which the conductor was no-nonsense, as usual. He was also a tad — just a tad — cold. And the delicious Pas de quatre was outright rushed — deprived of the subtlety and charm it should have.

But this is a smart musician, Mr. Maazel. For example, he let rising notes in the melodic line make a crescendo for him; he did not need increased volume.

After intermission, Mr. Bell returned, with Ravel’s “Tzigane” — which our soloist played like a well-trained, sensitive Gypsy. Or, if you like, a Gypsy with French aristocratic musical taste. The long solo flight at the beginning of the piece was magnificently judged. As for the orchestra, it could have played with more precision, but served.

No foe of chestnuts from an earlier age, Mr. Bell then played “None but the Lonely Heart” (Tchaikovsky) and “Estrellita” (Ponce). We could have been at a music hall in 1916. And Mr. Bell played this music with zero condescension or affectation. He played it with pure, singerly beauty. “None but the Lonely Heart,” by the way, had a nice assist from Carter Brey, the Philharmonic’s suave principal cellist.

Mr. Maazel closed the printed program with Ravel’s bizarre, ingenious hit, “Boléro.” The conductor did right by it: It had discipline, nuance, urbanity, mystery — and just a little jazz (one of Mr. Maazel’s specialties). Overall, it was about as riveting and mesmerizing as we would want. The piece threatened to go off the rails once or twice, and I have long had a disagreement with Mr. Maazel: For me, that astonishing key change near the end of “Boléro” needs no ritard; and neither does the return to the original key. But Mr. Maazel has done all right in the world following his own drummer.

Inevitably, the orchestra played “Auld Lang Syne,” with Mr. Maazel inviting the audience to sing along. He half-turned and conducted us — offhandedly, and with the musicality that is his native gift.