A last-minute injury didn’t stop Garth Fagan Dance from presenting the world premiere of “Senku” on Tuesday night at the Joyce. Company apprentice Khama Phillips (who’s been with the company only two months) stepped in for the injured Guy Thorne, gamely performing the demanding solo that opens Mr. Fagan’s latest work.

The apprentice’s understandably tentative performance turned out to be a fitting opening for “Senku,” a promising but slightly underdeveloped dance that feels a bit like a work in progress. Mr. Fagan’s stated theme for “Senku” — the relationship of youth to experience — felt more like the theme of the evening: After all, every piece on Tuesday’s reshuffled program featured dancers in their 40s and 50s performing alongside 20-somethings. At Garth Fagan Dance, intergenerational encounters are just another day at the office.

Indeed,”Senku” (a Ghanian term for a keyboard) had the look of a classic Fagan piece, from its inching, deliberate one-leg balances and off-center moves right down to its lycra unitards.The music — a kind of mix-tape of piano arrangements of Jamaican, Nigerian, and African-American songs played live by the Ghanian pianist William Chapman Nyaho — was a typically eclectic blend. And much of the dancing in the busy large-group sections felt familiar and a little boilerplate, as though the overarching design was still finding its way.

But the piece’s distinctive voice emerged in a central duet for two women and in the two male solos that bookend the dance. In these quieter, more intimate moments, Mr. Fagan’s choreography was startlingly inventive.

The duet, for the company’s 33-year-old star, Nicolette Depass, and its 24-year-old rising star, Annique Roberts, opened with an impish section, but quickly turned serious. The younger, shorter Ms. Roberts hunched over, and the lanky Ms. Depass moved behind her, as if to comfort her. For much of the rest of the duet, they remained in this posture, Ms. Depass cradling her younger charge. The events — like the sight of two different hands rising up, palm to palm — were small but poignant. Just before the end, Ms. Depass coaxed the younger dancer to straighten her spine and stand tall.

The same spirit of languorous examination infused the two male solos. The first, danced by Mr. Phillips, began with a series of unexpected leaps interspersed with calm, strenuous poses. (Mr. Fagan is not afraid to take his time showing you a move.) Periodically, the dancer startled the crowd by pausing to look his viewers squarely in the eye, or abruptly collapsing to the floor. One gesture, strange and memorable, particularly drew the eye — the sight of a man reaching one arm between his knees and snaking it around till his hand caught the free arm at the wrist — with the effect almost of a handcuff.

The same haunting gesture reappeared later, when 47-year-old Norwood Pennewell was left alone onstage for a final solo. The music was Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s arrangement of the spiritual “Deep River” — a piece layered with emotion and history. The barefoot Mr. Pennewell, in a simple shirt and trousers, walked slowly forward, one arm awkwardly splayed over his brow. When at last that arm dropped and his hand hit his thigh with a loud smack, it seemed to jolt his head back. Then he slumped, and one hand reached between his knees to grab the other wrist.

The reference to the earlier solo was striking, and the gesture itself was striking — so rich and yet so mysterious. Later, Mr. Pennewell lay down and rolled across the stage, pausing each time he landed on his chin; one palm reached out, its fingers shockingly splayed. (No one can splay fingers like a Fagan dancer.) When he got up he clawed the back of his scalp, then hugged his own body. He wound up in a hunched posture, rocking back and forth on his heels, until, finally, he stood upright.

Watching “Senku”alongside the uniformly strong repertory pieces on the program — the near-perfect “Prelude: Discipline Is Freedom,” the divine block party that is “Translation/Transition,” an affecting duet from “DanceCollageforRomie,” and a deliciously jazzy final ensemble section from “Life: Dark/Light” — could only increase one’s respect for Mr. Fagan’s unique vision and his training techniques. There is polish here, but no slickness; emotion, but no cheap sentimentality. Like the man who makes the dances, these well-muscled dancers combine virtuosity with a nonchalant attitude. Like a true jazzman, they’re just playing their instruments the best they can.

Until October 22 (175 Eighth Ave. at 19th Street, 212-242-0800).