Most people would agree that the worst crime John Denver ever committed was shooting his neighbor’s dog, but I have always felt that his most unspeakable act was ruining Symphony No. 5 of Tchaikovsky for an entire generation of listeners. By appropriat ing the beautiful main subject of the second movement and twisting it into the vapid “Fill Up My Senses,” he left a bad taste in the ear of countless classical music fans that may have only encountered the composer’s original expansive melody sporadically. Horn players especially have to remain vigilant against creeping Denverism in their solo enunciations. The symphony was the main work on the program as the New York Philharmonic presented a rare combination of chamber and orchestral music at Avery Fisher Hall on Saturday afternoon.

New assistant conductor Zhang Xian led the performance of Tchaikovsky. Ms. Zhang very courageously stood before this notoriously pugnacious orchestra that easily could have, this being a matinee, had her for lunch. But it seemed that the musicians were eager to please the young conductor, ardently following her interpretation and generally playing with a great deal of accuracy and attention. The orchestra appears to genuinely like her, but the reason for this devotion may very well be that she allowed them to do something they clearly relished, although they were not very good at its execution.

Ms. Zhang committed the classic rookie mistake of equating volume with power.This was the loudest Tchaikovsky Fifth I have ever heard. If a conductor plans to present this work at such a high decibel level, then the New York Philharmonic is definitely not the ensemble of choice. These musicians cannot intone above a mezzo forte without exposing a sound both grating and disturb ing. Although poor intonation was not the problem, the brass section in particular was stretched beyond its ability to perform tastefully. Perhaps if Ms. Zhang had been in Chicago, her exhortations for more and more noise would have stimulated the excellent brass players there. But here in New York, the net effect was just plain ugly.

Imploring the Philharmonic violins with big gestures in an attempt to coax some sort of lushness from them was also a fool’s errand. The fate motif in the opening Andante – Allegro con anima – did not slither in through a crack in the foundation, but rather broke down the front door with a battering ram. It was almost as if Ms. Zhang were conducting out of doors.

Even a beautifully declaimed horn solo by principal Philip Myers in the Andante cantabile did little to ameliorate the situation, since we were right back to that irritating triple forte almost immediately. This realization was so blaring that the one movement that simply could not be presented loudly, the Valse, seemed anorexic in comparison. The surrounding bombast left what should have been a delicate interlude sounding rather pale and wan instead.

There were aspects of Ms. Zhang’s conducting that I found refreshing. She maintained a brisk pace throughout, enhanced significantly by her decision to take the entire symphony without pause. She never lowered her hands, granting at most a beat and a half of silence between movements, proving that a large Avery Fisher crowd can indeed last for an entire hour without any significant coughing. Her sense of excitement was palpable; she simply has to turn it down a little (or move to a more pliable orchestra).

The first half of this concert was devoted to two small works of Francis Poulenc. Why more orchestras do not program similar entertainments, mixing pieces for full ensemble and chamber groups, is a puzzle.The concept is a good one and adds a bit of spice to the experience of the audience. In essence, this was a workable conception.

However, in reality, the opening acts were not of the highest quality. Flutist Robert Langevin has a good tone and a breath control that lends itself to a long, continuous melodic line, but his offering of the Sonata from 1957, accompanied by pianist Jonathan Feldman, expressed only a hint of the loveliness and serenity of the original.

The Sextuor, probably Poulenc’s most famous piece of chamber music, was virtually note perfect in the strong hands of these two musicians and mates Sherry Sylar (oboe), Mark Nuccio (clarinet), Judith LeClair (bassoon), and Erik Ralske (horn), but the incredible Gallic spirit of the work was simply left behind. Poulenc is an extremely artful composer who often operates on the surface as if he were rather artless, stringing together pleasant melodies with the insouciance of the boulevardier. But just when the listener is lulled into thinking that the music is simply lighter fare, a poignant phrase or nostalgic melody will make its appearance, and the effect can be emotionally devastating.

But in this rendition,the piece lacked the necessary propulsion, normally provided by strong bassoon and horn. The sextet simply ignored the syncopated rhythms and sharp accents of the original in favor of a kind of sonic mush. There were undeniable moments of great beauty in the Divertissement section, but overall this was an interpretation far from Poulenc’s emotional center. And with no conducting aspirant to take the weight, these musicians had no one to blame but themselves.

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Hagiographers to the contrary, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart could not do everything musically. For example, he did not play the cello. Of course, he was a virtuoso on virtually all of the keyboard instruments of his day as well as the violin and the viola, and a heckuva glass harmonica player. He did, however, write some chamber pieces that featured the cello, although never any sonatas for the instrument. Even the two sets of variations for cello and piano on themes from his “Magic Flute” were actually written by Beethoven.

Late in life, Mozart accepted a com mission from King Frederick Wilhelm II of Prussia, himself an amateur cellist. Like Haydn, who wrote well over 100 pieces for the now defunct relative of the cello known as the baryton because his patron, Prince Nicholas Esterhazy, was a devotee of the instrument, Wolfgang tailored his so-called Prussian quartets to feature the successor to the viola da gamba. On Saturday evening at the 92nd Street Y, cellist Clive Greensmith was featured with his Tokyo String Quartet in the D major, K. 575.

Knowing a thing or two about making the transition from orchestral section leader to chamber musician, Mr. Greensmith undertook the great leap from the first chair of the Royal Philharmonic to the venerable quartet in the very late 1990s. One of his new job’s perks is the loan of the violoncello from the “Paganini Quartet” of instruments fashioned by Stradivarius. Mr. Greensmith has added a strong sense of refinement to the group, significantly altering their sound for a new millennium. His solos in both the Andante and Menuetto of the Mozart were not only impressively graceful but also delight fully melodic.

Violist Steven Dann joined for the gorgeous Quintet in G minor, K. 516, and German pianist Alexander Lonquich collaborated on the Quartet in E-flat major, K. 493. Mr. Lonquich was on his best behavior, leaving his idiosyncratic rhythmic style in his suitcase, and dazzling with a touch both strong and delicate. He did not appear to be very familiar with the piece, staring intently at the printed music before him, but added just the right touch of support to the singing string players.

This performance, being recorded for future radio broadcast,was heartening for at least two reasons. First, it was virtually sold out (this is not always so on Lexington Avenue). Second, the group sounded sublime in these deceptively simple works. After years of reinventing itself, it seems that it is back in top form. Although, there is that nagging suspicion that it sounded so superb only in contrast to the just heard Philharmonic.