The printed program for the fine recital by Japanese pianist Yukiko Akagi at Trinity Church on Thursday lists the major work as the 1931 revision of the Sonata No. 2 of Sergei Rachmaninoff, and therein hangs a tale. The composer was a giant, not just in terms of creativity, but also physically — he was a very tall man with massive hands. If there was a deficiency in his piano writing it was that he had little sense of what a keyboardist with normal hands could accomplish.

His friend Vladimir Horowitz, a man who developed a thumb technique that allowed him to perform as if he himself had three hands, approached Rachmaninoff with the criticism that nobody could ever perform this massive sonata but the composer. As much as this might have appealed to Rachmaninoff’s sense of exclusivity, he did revise the piece.

Ms. Akagi, relatively speaking, has very big hands as well, or at least very long and impressively dexterous fingers. She navigated the work’s now only fiendishly, rather than impossibly, difficult fingerings with apparent ease. In fact, this recital as a whole contained virtually no wrong notes whatsoever.

Much more important, Ms. Akagi took the long view of this masterpiece, establishing an overarching awareness of the structure of the work and painstakingly filling out her drawing with exquisite detail. Especially welcome were her lyrical passages, which employed a sweet smoothness and a remarkable sense of absolute rhythm. I thought of the conducting of Herbert von Karajan, so regular was this pianist’s meter.

According to Paul Griffiths, Toru Takemitsu specifies in his notes to the pianistic essay, “Les Yeux Clos” (“Closed Eyes”), that one should “produce changes of color and time as if they were floating.” Ms. Akagi certainly accomplished this feat, realizing this important work by one of the greatest and most neglected composers of the last century. Takemitsu is essentially creating a new language in this piece and Yukiko Akagi speaks it fluently.

Although she has been featured on Spanish television and performed in Barcelona and Madrid, I found the Iberian half of her program less satisfying. In Manuel de Falla’s “Andaluza” from “Four Spanish Pieces,” louder passages were muddy and the idiom in general seemed off, a little too relaxed and flaccid rather than crisp and staccato. In the substantial meditation “Fantasia Baetica” accents should have been sharper and more clearly defined. The work depends heavily on dramatic effects in the right hand, and these were somewhat timid. Although Ms. Akagi began with powerful cross-hand calisthenics wherein her left hand was almost perpendicular to the keyboard, she did not reprise this level of excitement during the later parts of the suite. However, the middle section, more measured and melodic, was superb.

I find Federico Mompou a bit of a problem composer, as his works are little more than salon or pop in both style and substance. But apparently Ms. Akagi disagrees, as she presented four of his preludes with savvy fluidity. Still, this type of ribbon candy belongs more at the Rainbow Room than in church.