In a rare rapprochement back in February, every New York critic who wrote on the subject agreed that it was wrongheaded to present the three Brahms sonatas for violin and piano on the same program. At that moment, I decided to compare and contrast the three evenings scheduled wherein this trio of incompatible works was presented.

The first iteration was by Christian Tetzlaff and Lars Vogt, and I found it showily modest and ultimately soporific. My blueprint for comparison soon fell apart, however, as the physically strong but psychically delicate Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg canceled her recital at the last minute. This left the venerable Jaime Laredo and the always-fascinating Leon Fleisher, who offered the three sonatas at the 92nd Street Y on Wednesday evening.

Mr. Fleisher has become the poster child for a technique known as rolfing, a combination of Reichian and massage therapies. Several articles of a medical nature tell of his peregrination from able-bodied, two-handed pianist through years of inability to command his right digits due to carpal tunnel syndrome. Conventional healing and rehabilitation only led to a heartbreaking failed comeback – I was in the audience at Tanglewood in the early 1990s when he couldn’t communicate a Mozart concerto without extreme awkwardness – and, finally, the current resurrection of dexterity and the hope of years of fine performances ahead.

Mr. Fleisher’s heroic struggle continued on this night. The walls of the Theresa L. Kaufmann Concert Hall are embossed with the names of Moses, David, and Isaiah, and this pianist (who in profile resembles a biblical patri arch) struggled all evening with his own personal demons. Nothing would please me more than to report that his performance was accurate and technically superior. But there was much equivocation in these renditions.

Mr. Fleisher was glued to the printed music throughout. He concentrated intently on fidelity to the score, often to the point of becoming more gingerly than poetic. That other person on the stage whom critics always ignore, the page-turner, became the most important member of the team on many occasions.

I like Jaime Laredo a lot. He projects a big tone, polished and flowing. He is an expert at the use of vibrato, laying on as much or as little as needed, and he has the ability to fashion a gorgeous portamento and the chutzpah to employ it at will.

During the A-major sonata that opened the program – the second in order of composition – Mr. Laredo spun a continuous, albeit slow, melodic line for the first Allegro amabile. However, the Andante tranquillo was so stretched by a relaxed tempo that Mr. Laredo’s line began to ravel. The unusually long spaces between beats challenged his lyrical nature and ultimately caused the movement to expand to the point of fission. The remainder of the sonata was also realized at a snail’s pace.

The G major started out much better than its predecessor. A rocking, barcarolle style of comforting rhythm at a more acceptable tempo transformed the Vivace ma non troppo into a welcome respite for both audience and musicians. Mr. Laredo experienced some awkwardness in the Adagio, uncharacteristically going off the rails at one point, but overall this performance was the duo’s best. This sonata used to be known as the “Rain” because of its association with an earlier song of Brahms. It is the most heartrending of the three – the aforementioned Ms. Salerno-Sonnenberg wrings an incredible amount of feeling out of it on a good night – but this reading was actually rather dry.

Finally, the D minor was a mixed affair. Mr. Laredo had his best movement of the night, a shining and warm Adagio that reminded me of his best evenings as a member of the KLR trio. Mr. Fleisher, however, was still engaged in that epic battle, one in which we root for him mightily. The allegro was especially fudgy and unsatisfying. All of these wrong notes had to have an effect on the violinist. They certainly did on the listener.

Do you remember that race in the Olympics several years ago wherein a runner was injured and his father came out and helped him to circle the track? At several points in this concert, I just wanted to go up onto that stage and offer Leon Fleisher a hand.

So once again this odd trio of pieces was offered as if it were a set.Why any team presents them this way is a mystery to me. Perhaps I should ask Gidon Kremer or Krystian Zimerman, who will offer them all this November at Carnegie Hall.