The Philadelphia Orchestra and its music director, Christoph Eschenbach, made some news a few weeks ago: Mr. Eschenbach will leave when his contract runs out at the end of next season. But he is in the saddle for now, and he appeared with the orchestra at Carnegie Hall on Tuesday night.

There were two works on the program: the Violin Concerto of Alban Berg and the Symphony No. 4 of Gustav Mahler. The former composer revered the latter composer, and both works are “Viennese.” But you don’t have to go musicological: These are two masterpieces, pure and simple.

Berg’s concerto carries one of the most famous dedications in music: “To the Memory of an Angel.” The angel in question was Manon Gropius, daughter of Walter and Alma Gropius. (Her mother had been married to Mahler.) The work is full of codes, quotations, and allusions, on which the interested can feast.

On hand to play the concerto with Maestro Eschenbach and the Philadelphians was Leonidas Kavakos. He is a young Greek violinist and conductor, and impressive all around. Let’s hope that he never abandons the fiddle for full-time conducting. When was the last time you heard Gerard Schwarz play the trumpet?

Messrs. Kavakos and Eschenbach began the Berg superbly. I would say they “set the mood,” if those words weren’t so cheesy. They were careful without being self-conscious, ethereal without being airy-fairy. You can be precious in this work, which spoils it. Our musicians were unusually matterof-fact, virtually avoiding interpretation. You can play this music more sweetly, more wistfully, even more schmaltzily — but underdoing is better than overdoing.

I should note, too, that the Philadelphia’s horns were admirably confident in the first movement, and so were the trumpets.

The second and final movement, Mr. Kavakos really tucked into, with a feeling of tragedy. He continued with his canny control. Mr. Eschenbach was extremely deft in his handling of rhythm and (limited) rubato. Eventually, the insistent plainness of these musicians took its toll — an appropriate toll. The concerto was remorseless. I forgot the performance altogether, and heard only the music speaking. This is quite rare in a concert hall.

Berg’s concerto is less than a halfhour long, but after you hear it, you need a break, or at least welcome one. And after a 20-minute intermission, we had the Mahler Fourth.

In the first movement, Mr. Eschenbach was relaxed and sensible. And though he was relaxed, he was not flaccid or loose. He enjoyed what he was doing, and he particularly enjoyed instances of Viennese lilt. Also, the Philadelphians were making a beautiful, striking sound. I’m not sure it was the Philadelphia Sound — the vaunted sound of old — but it was a marvelous sound all the same. And, once more, the horns were outstanding, unfaltering. The woodwinds were assured, too.

In the second movement, Mr. Eschenbach simply followed Mahler, walking with him and breathing with him. As in the Berg, we lost a sense of interpretation, or never had it to begin with. The second movement can resemble a violin concerto, and the concertmaster, David Kim, handled the solo work with taste and character.

Next comes the slow movement, one of the glorious things in Mahler. The Philadelphians gave us some more of that striking sound — more of it than ever. The music was yearning, wondering, accepting, loving … I believe Mr. Eschenbach’s tempo was a tad slow, but at least it was steady. In Mahler’s crashing E-major section — when he gives us relief from the foregoing sublimity — the brass wobbled, but not badly.

The last movement, as you know, features a soprano providing a “child’s view of heaven.” That soprano was Marisol Montalvo, an American who lives both here and in Germany.

My colleague Fred Kirshnit points out that you can sing this music in one of two ways: in a child-like way, or in a grandmotherly, wise way. (Incidentally, Fred is one of the world’s foremost experts on the Berg Violin Concerto, too.) Ms. Montalvo chose the child-like route. But she was rather too soft and delicate, as though afraid to break fragile music. Ah, well: You can’t have Heidi Grant Murphy every time. And Ms. Montalvo was adequate, also somewhat touching.

As for Mr. Eschenbach, he began this movement with wonderful gentleness. And, again, he was matter-of-fact. But the music had a plodding quality, and it never really transported — never transported as the rest of the symphony had, and as the final movement should. He let the last note, however, die beautifully. And that is not unimportant.

This was as good a concert as I have ever heard Mr. Eschenbach conduct. Throughout his tenure — he began in 2003 — I have been quite hard on him. But as he conducted Berg and Mahler on Tuesday night, I had a recurring thought: “Gee, maybe he should stay.”