The New York Philharmonic is back from the Far East, where they were touring. They were in their usual position at Avery Fisher Hall on Thursday night, but without their music director, Lorin Maazel. In his place was a guest, Sakari Oramo, a Finn. Was there some Sibelius on the program? You bet. Some Saariaho, too – and a great Finnish singer.

Mr. Oramo is maestro of the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra, and also of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. A former concertmaster – with that very Finnish orchestra, as a matter of fact – he is considered one of the Bright Young Hopes of conducting today. And he justified that hope before the Philharmonic on Thursday night.

The program began with a short Sibelius tone poem, “The Bard.” No, it is not about Shakespeare – it evokes some generalized Northern storyteller, from long ago. It is a rarity too, having never been performed by the Philharmonic, for example. “The Bard” is clearly Sibelius, written in that composer’s special lan guage, recalling – to my ears – bits of the Third Symphony, and also of the Fifth. It seems, in fact, to tell a story; but it is up to each listener to imagine that story, or none.

The orchestra rendered it admirably, with some nifty woodwind playing, and some equally nifty harp playing. Mr. Oramo controlled the orchestra expertly, using confident, authoritative gestures.

Kaija Saariaho is one of the leading composers of today, born in Finland in 1952, but long resident in Paris. She comes out of Pierre Boulez’s shop, and it shows, though she has evolved as a composer – as has Mr. Boulez, for that matter. A few years ago, Karita Mattila, the Finnish soprano, asked Ms. Saariaho to compose her some songs, and she obliged with “Quatre Instants.” That’s right: The words are not Finnish, but French, written by the Lebanese-born but Paris-dwelling Amin Maalouf. The “instants” tell of a hooking-up, to use a terribly contemporary word, including its anticipation and its aftermath.

The score is like a thousand others today – you know, that sci-fi soundtrack, or horror soundtrack, with blips and beeps and bells. Edgy, bleak, spooky. Plenty of percussion, of course. The music is batty, haunted, battering. But I should not write so dismissively. The songs are also powerfully emotional, and they grow on you – at least they grew on me. They build startlingly, even grippingly. In the end, this is a moving and memorable cycle.

This opinion could have much to do with the fact that Ms. Mattila sang it. She was in top form, totally involved with these songs, almost frightening us with her involvement (certainly thrilling us). These songs are sensual and demented, and Ms. Mattila does sensual and demented extremely well – as witness her Salome at the Metropolitan Opera last season. In the Saariaho, she deployed many different colors, and a lack of color. She emitted superb ribbons of sound, aimed at their marks.

Some weeks ago, I reviewed a new song-cycle of Augusta Read Thomas – “Gathering Paradise,” on Dickinson poems – performed by Heidi Grant Murphy. I said that I could not imagine that these songs would ever receive better treatment, no matter how long they lived. The same is true of “Quatre Instants” and the woman for whom they were written, Ms. Mattila – only more so, probably.

Sakari Oramo closed the concert with the “Manfred” Symphony, Tchaikovsky’s exploration of the Byron poem. This can be a blowsy, undisciplined, somewhat tiresome work, and it needs a firm hand. It got one, in this conductor. Often, when Mr. Maazel is absent, the Philharmonic acts up (down?), but this time it was precise and convincing.

One may have preferred a fuller, richer sound in this symphony; the New York Philharmonic is not to be confused with the Philadelphia Orchestra or the Vienna Philharmonic. But this was a streamlined, occasionally brilliant sound, and not ineffective.

The first movement reflected the tumult in Manfred’s mind; indeed, this entire account would contain the drama. The second movement gave us a break from the tumult, with some Alpine rusticity – but soon the tumult resumes. As busy as this score is, Mr. Oramo ensured that everything was clean. Balances were excellent: In this second movement, we could hear the many woodwind solos, yet the “accompanying” parts were not negligible.

Speaking of woodwinds, the third movement featured some fine oboe singing by Joseph Robinson. And the finale? It started out a little raggedly, but it eventually came together. Horns were slick, and so were trumpets. The death of Manfred saw impassioned unison playing in the strings, along with pulsation and interjections in the brass. All of this was nicely coordinated by the conductor. A bad pizzicato entrance at the end could not mar what had occurred.

Mr. Oramo knew his mind, and knew Tchaikovsky’s – and Byron’s, and probably Manfred’s. He did not take dumb liberties. In fact, you could sort of forget about the conductor and listen to the “Manfred” Symphony.

So, on this evening, we had a good new piece, a good new conductor – if Mr. Oramo can be considered new – a great singer. Even a good new piece in “The Bard,” seldom heard as it is. And a solid performance of a staple. The ticket-buying public got its money’s worth.