Bertrand Russell used to say that mathematics existed for people who wanted to teach mathematics to people who wanted to teach mathematics. Despite the happy talk of some critics, contemporary classical music in America is haunted by a similar marginalized irrelevance.

On Friday at the Bruno Walter Auditorium, a blue ribbon panel of composers discussed their place in the universe alongside an ensemble of fine musicians from the forward-thinking Louisville Orchestra and the University of Louisville, on hand to perform chamber compositions.

Although trying to put a positive face on all matters, the panel — which consisted of Aaron Jay Kernis, Joan Tower, Karel Husa, and John Corigliano — projected a profoundly pessimistic thesis. The panelists were mostly concerned about the exponential proliferation of music on the Internet. On one hand, their own works, of course, are now much more readily available, but they are also dwarfed by the sheer volume of variety in cyberspace. Mozart and Beethoven will survive this onslaught, but will Ades and Birtwistle? Copyright and royalties are a major issue as well. Mr. Corigliano recalled encountering a student in Beijing who is writing her thesis on his Symphony No. 2, a work neither published nor commercially recorded. She possessed on her computer not only the score to the piece, but a pirated recording as well.

Ms. Tower discussed the benefits of composing in America, concluding she “would die in Europe.” She described the European system of cliques and Europe’s rigid requirements of conformity — elements, she pointed out, that formerly existed on this side of the pond.

Ms. Tower, however, may be a bit too close to the subject to realize that she too is part of a rather closed society. In America, it is virtually impossible for someone who is not a part of the academic community to have his or her works taken seriously.

The performing half of the afternoon featured some excerpts from the music of the panelists, including a passionate recorded performance of Mr. Husa’s Cello Concerto featuring Lynn Harrell, but was mostly dominated by a quintet by Columbia University professor Sebastian Currier.

When Arnold Schönberg translated the title of his monodrama “Erwartung” into English, he christened it “Expectations” rather than “Nightmares,” not wanting to give his critics another weapon with which to attack him. Mr. Currier seems to have missed this lesson, dubbing his piece “Static.” Mr. Currier explained that the name refers to not just irritating noise but also stasis. If, however, the piece is ever presented again, he may not be around to clarify the situation.

In any case, its six movements were expertly realized by Kathleen Karr, flute and piccolo, Dallas Tidwell, clarinet and bass clarinet, J. Patrick Rafferty, violin, Marlene Balleria, cello, and Brenda Kee, piano.

Each section describes a different emotional state, a bit like Carl Nielsen’s Symphony No. 2, subtitled “The Four Temperaments.” Except for going to the well once too often to begin movements with sustained chords, the piece is quite inventive and often remarkably beautiful. Reminding in spots of Bruno Maderna’s Serenata 2, especially in the sketch titled “ethereal,” the essay moves through various idioms, including a bit of the obligatory jazzy feel so omnipresent in this type of composed American music of the newborn millennium. “Resonant” even exhibited a welcome neo-Romantic lyrical line.

Perhaps in response to the indifference of the listening public, contemporary composers survive by giving each other awards. This year’s winner of the $200,000 dollar Grawemeyer Award for Music Composition turned out to be Mr. Currier, and he deserves our hearty congratulations. He may have been recognized by this illustrious fraternity at exactly the wrong time, however, as composers sink deeper into irrevocable desuetude.

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Cellist Christian Poltera was recently named one of the 20 top new artists by the BBC magazine, and his recital on Friday evening at Weill indicated he is well on his way. Both he and pianist Polina Leschenko were billed as making their “distinctive debuts,” but Mr. Poltera actually appeared last season as the soloist in the Cello Concerto of fellow Swiss citizen Frank Martin with the American Symphony Orchestra at Avery Fisher. He was warmly reviewed in these pages at the time.

On the program were Schumann, Prokofiev, and Rachmaninoff and for each composer, Mr. Poltera made good musical choices. Everything he did was solid, but nothing was remarkable. I scribbled in my program booklet only one word: more.

Perhaps it was the daunting nature of a Carnegie debut, but it seemed as if Mr. Poltera held back just a little. In Schumann’s Fantasiestuecke, Op. 73, he exhibited a mellow tone, but it could have been richer. He toyed with a strong vibrato, but it could have been suppler. He navigated the notes successfully, but he could have had a nimbler touch.

In the Prokofiev C Major Sonata, Mr. Poltera began with a very big sound that was quite impressive, but never really captured the indomitable spirit of this individualistic, somewhat rebellious work. He really needs to loosen up in spots; the normally playful section of the middle movement was rather stiff in his hands. And the Rach G Minor was competent, smooth, accurate, but lacked the full-blown Romantic spirit that undoubtedly will come to this talented aspirant with seasoning and time.

Schumann, Prokofiev, Rachmaninoff. What united the three pieces was their outstanding — some might say disproportionate — piano parts, designed for their composer’s own aggrandizement or, in Schumann’s case, that of his beloved. It was clear from the outset that Ms. Leschenko was no mere accompanist, and she consistently exhibited a higher level of musicianship than her partner this night.

Ms. Leschenko is the entrant of the Palais des Beaux Arts in the “rising stars” program, wherein Carnegie Hall sends its nominees to European engagements. She is a very strong pianist who can play tumultuously without any loss of intonation, and passionately without any equivocation. In the fiendishly difficult Prokofiev, she dominated and quickly focused the listener’s attention to the keyboard. In the Rachmaninoff, hers was the more robust lyricism.

We are conditioned to think of the pianist as just another quotidian employee of the support staff, an important cog in the wheel of the recital experience, like the stagehand or the bartender. But in Rachmaninoff, the pianist is indeed the star, at least on nights featuring a musician as skilled as Polina Leschenko. In a very crowded field of young pianists, she possesses the potential for eloquence.