The New York Philharmonic’s recent program was an appealing one. It consisted of two relatively unknown works from mid-century, and a canonical symphony from the beginning of the century (the 20th, that is). On the podium was Semyon Bychkov, the Russian conductor who has had a busy career in both America and Europe. Once upon a time, he was in Grand Rapids. Now he’s in Cologne.

And, at Friday morning’s concert, he appeared in white shirtsleeves and black vest. He looked rather like a waiter. And if he conducted like a waiter, it was a very talented one.

He and the Philharmonic began with “Métaboles,” composed in the early 1960s by Henri Dutilleux. Mr. Dutilleux is known for the spareness of his compositions. And he chooses each note carefully, even painstakingly. The “Métaboles” happen to be wordy for him. But they are still meticulously and economically crafted. And they form an attractive, varied, and attention-holding work.

The five pieces, or movements – performed without pauses – bear interesting headings: such as “Obsessionnel” and “Flamboyant.” Some of this music has what I can only describe as a clockwork grace.

Initially, the Philharmonic was less subtle, warm, and mysterious than it might have been – altogether too blunt. Plus, the pizzicatos could have been more accurate (as usual). But the orchestra settled down to intricacy and precision. Carter Brey floated some pretty cello phrases, and Eugene Levinson, the principal bassist, plucked expertly. Mr. Bychkov conducted the final movement – Flamboyant – with tension and urgency. The music yawped, à la Stravinsky (in “The Rite of Spring,” for instance).

Incidentally, Mr. Dutilleux was born in 1916 and is still at work. And, compared with Elliott Carter – born 1908 – he is a mere pup.

Next on the program was the Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra by Bohuslav Martinu, composed in 1943. The soloists were the famed Labèque sisters, Katia and Marielle. (Maestro Bychkov is married to the latter.) And they put on a laudable performance.

Martinu’s first movement – Allegro non troppo – was shimmeringly rhapsodic, then raucously rhapsodic. The sisters played with delicacy, strength, and unity. You could hear some of Ravel’s G-major piano concerto in this movement. The sisters brought out a jazzy element, but did not go crazy with it.

After a frenetic first movement, the second – Adagio – brought calm. This music, too, is Ravelian, reminiscent of the middle movement of the Sonatine. The Labèques played it with considerable beauty. And Rebecca Young made some beautiful sounds on her viola.

The last movement – Allegro – is toccata-like, and syncopated, and clever, and fun. (Also Ravelian.) Our pianists elegantly pummeled it.

They have been stars for decades now, and still look like slips of girls. They also look like each other (although they’re not twins). Early in their career, there was some resentment of them, and some snickering about them. This was in part because of their publicity – some overly glam and exotic shots, etc. But they are worthy musicians, and they have done much to keep a worthy repertory – the two-piano rep – alive.

In addition, this concert pointed up something important: Often the music debate is framed as new music vs. old. But there’s plenty of old music – previously composed music! – that sits gathering dust. Much of it deserves to be dusted off, such as the two pieces that made up the first half of this Philharmonic concert.

The second half brought one of the great late-Romantic symphonies: Rachmaninoff’s No. 2 in E minor, composed from 1906 to 1908. Under Mr. Bychkov, the opening movement was supple, fluid, smartly shaped. The ensuing scherzo had its desired piquancy. The cherished slow movement – from which we get the pop song “Never Gonna Fall in Love Again” – was panting, heaving, though not quite obscene. Also, it was a little slow and exaggerated. But justifiable.

And the finale? Not bad; the least strong of the movements. It could have been more stirring, visceral, and dizzying – but Mr. Bychkov and the Philharmonic had delivered a fine performance.

I might mention that the conductor paused for quite a while between movements – between the second and third, and the third and fourth. I think of these as more “attacca.” But that is surely a matter of taste (and what we’re used to).

One more thing: Rachmaninoff’s Second Symphony is a miraculously good piece. Would-be sophisticates may have badmouthed Rachmaninoff to you – along with Tchaikovsky, Puccini, and others. You might tell them, in the immortal words of the fat kid in “The Bad News Bears,” to stick it where the sun don’t shine.