In his long conducting career, Lorin Maazel has had many high moments in Verdi, and he had another one on Wednesday night. He wasn’t in the opera pit; he was on the podium of his New York Philharmonic. And the piece, as you might expect, was Verdi’s Requiem.

Mr. Maazel – like all veteran conductors – has lived with this piece for many, many years. He knows what he thinks about it. And he communicates his thinking to the orchestra, chorus, and soloists, unmistakably. You may not like what he thinks – but there’s no doubting his conviction, depth, and mastery.

Mr. Maazel conducted every phrase, every note of this Requiem. By that, I mean that he managed them, molded them, kept them on a very short leash. Sometimes that leash was choking. I tend to like Mr. Maazel’s decisions – or at least respect them – but I wish he’d let you forget he was there, once in a while. Sometimes, you have to get out of the way, so that the music can come forth.

Never will you see a conductor more intent on conducting the soloists, in a piece like this. It’s a wonder the four on Wednesday night weren’t insulted: Mr. Maazel wouldn’t let them scratch themselves, except at his direction. Mr. Maazel let it be known, “I am no accompanist!”

I’m reminded of a once-famous statement of a lawyer, who was representing a witness before a congressional committee.The lawyer was rebuked for too much interfering. He declared, “I am not a potted plant!”

A few details from Mr. Maazel’s Requiem (and I do mean Mr. Maazel’s): The opening notes were properly quiet, but not inaudible, as they are in many performances. Mr. Maazel drew you in, preparing you for a long, turbulent, and exalting journey.The first statement of the Dies irae was throttling – exact in its rhythm,terrible in its meaning.A little later, the notes leading to the Recordare were extraordinary: filled with what you might call a morality.

Even when the singers were having a rough time – as they often did – Mr. Maazel made up for it with musical savvy. In the Lacrimosa, for instance, a hundred things went wrong; but Mr. Maazel made sure that, overall, it went right, especially in the orchestra.

And he is, among other things, an efficient conductor. He moved briskly through the sections – not lingering – and, as I have mentioned more than once, he’s the greatest cutter-off of notes of all time. He knows that a fermata is not a license for laziness.

Also, Mr. Maazel knows that some bars, staffs, or pages in a score aren’t invested with great meaning. He’s not afraid to conduct plainly; mezzo forte or mezzo piano is not necessarily a sin to him. He saves extremes for extremes, and he knows that a climax is no climax, if everything else has been hot and heavy.This is an expression of maturity.

The New York Philharmonic played well for their chief. And the New York Choral Artists – prepared by their leader, Joseph Flummerfelt – sang well. Everyone onstage seemed keen to follow Mr. Maazel’s directions.

The soloists were an uneven bunch – as four human beings tend to be – but perhaps the outstanding one was the mezzo-soprano, Luciana D’Intino. You may remember her from last season’s “Don Carlo” at the Metropolitan Opera: She made her house debut as Eboli, and she was a knockout. She did some knocking out in the Requiem, too. She’s the real Verdi McCoy, this lady – in voice, technique, and mentality. When she was singing, you could sit back and enjoy: All would be well.

The tenor was a substitute, replacing the Mexican star Ramon Vargas, who was indisposed. That substitute was Franco Farina, an American capable of excellent singing. He did not do much of it on Wednesday night. He struggled with intonation, rhythm, vocal evenness. But he was earnest – always earnest – which counts for a lot in this music, and in much music.

Incidentally, he watched Mr. Maazel like a hawk, which was a bit amusing, and also somewhat touching.

The bass was the young Bulgarian Orlin Anastassov, who appeared on this same Avery Fisher Hall stage in September – in the Verdi Requiem. That was when Sir Colin Davis was leading the London Symphony Orchestra. Mr. Anastassov did not fare as well this week, but he was still impressive. He can convey extraordinary resolution, and Verdi often asks for that, especially from the bass. Seldom do you see posture so erect, as in Mr. Anastassov. And sometimes, I’m afraid, that posture was reflected in his singing: a bit stiff, tight.

One side note about him: Mr. Anastassov did without a score, while the other three soloists used theirs. This, frankly, looked weird, especially when all four were singing together. Mr. Maazel, needless to say, did not use a score. I doubt he would use one in “Die Meistersinger.”

The star of the show, ultimately – other than the conductor – is the soprano, who sings the concluding section of the work, the Libera me. Mr. Maazel’s soprano was Fiorenza Cedolins, an Italian (despite the un-Italian last name). She had an awkward start, but then something wonderful happened: She got better, a lot better. And she was magnificent when it mattered most: in the Libera me.

At the Requiem’s outset, she was rather wobbly, crude, like a cartoon Verdi soprano. She grabbed at certain notes, and covered others. Interestingly, she kept reaching high notes you thought she couldn’t make.

Then, as the Requiem wore on, her technique became very secure, and she did some truly beautiful music-making. Her Libera me was the right combination of scalding incisiveness and angelic purity.You could have asked for more lower register from Ms. Cedolins, but that is minor. Her prayer uttered at the end – on Cs (not high ones) – was superbly even, and moving.

New York has had a wealth of Verdi Requiems this season. I can count three: that one in the fall, conducted by Sir Colin; one earlier this month, from the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, under Robert Spano; and now Lorin Maazel’s. All of these performances have been different, and all have pointed to the singular greatness of this work, which many claim is Verdi’s best (with apologies to “La Traviata,” “Otello,” “Falstaff” …).

I will end on a slightly bizarre note: I have frequently remarked that Mr. Maazel likes to put a little American jazz into various scores, and others have remarked the same. I have a friend – a conductor, as it happens – who has said,”Lorin will be conducting something, and, all of a sudden, it’s Gershwin.”I heard a little of that at one point in one Dies irae. This is the screwiest thing you’ll read all week – but it was so.

Mr. Maazel will conduct Verdi’s Requiem again on April 2 & 4 (Lincoln Center, 212-875-5656).