Some of us insist that this is a golden age for singers. It is a very good age for violinists, too. For conductors, not so much. And for composers, really not so much. That is a source of ongoing sorrow and frustration.

It is not an especially happy time for pianists, either. But there are glimmers on the horizon — including Andrius Zlabys, a young man who grew up in Lithuania and then came to America to study. Actually, Mr. Zlabys is more than a glimmer: For some time now, he has been shining.

He played a recital at the Metropolitan Museum on Friday night. And he began unusually: with the three intermezzos of Brahms, Op. 117. These are quiet, introspective, transcendent pieces — not the usual curtain-raisers. But for Mr. Zlabys, they served perfectly.

He phrased the intermezzos beautifully, breathed beautifully in them. And that’s just about the entire ball game. The intermezzos were entrancing, and not at all soupy. Mr. Zlabys did no overpedaling. In all three, he showed extraordinary refinement and artistry — a word not to be used lightly. Indeed, a Backhausian spirit visited the auditorium on this evening. Mr. Zlabys next played a sonata of Beethoven: the one in D minor, Op. 31, No. 2, known as the “Tempest.” This work begins with a slow introduction in A major — an introduction both dreamy and suspenseful. Mr. Zlabys really got your attention. He judged these measures unerringly. When the music got faster — tempestuous — he could be a little stiff. But he had the sweep of the work, along with the particulars.

Mr. Zlabys brought out the unusualness of the first movement, even its exoticism. Frankly, the music is stranger than I remembered.

In the middle movement — Adagio — we heard the warm solidity that B-flat major has to offer. Mr. Zlabys was simple, unfussy, and — blessedly — not too slow. He assumed a proper gait. And the last movement was notably mature: It is marked Allegretto — not Allegro or Vivace — and Mr. Zlabys bore this in mind. The music had its quirky grace. And it was sufficiently exciting.

After intermission, Mr. Zlabys played a little Bach: three items from “The Art of the Fugue,” a judicious number of such items. “The Art of the Fugue” marries the intellectual and the spiritual, and this marriage was reflected in the young man’s playing. The music was holy, or approaching holy, of course. But it was also pianistic — appropriate, for that big Steinway on the stage — and a good show, if I may say that.

Ending the program was Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 8 in B flat, Op. 84. This is a great sonata, but not heard all that often, taking a backseat, it seems, to its two predecessors. Mr. Zlabys did No. 8 justice. It was strange and passionate, just as Prokofiev wanted. Mr. Zlabys employed the right kind of percussiveness, and he mixed in the lyrical. You can struggle with this piece; it can seem titanic, impossible. But, from Mr. Zlabys, it seemed rather easy, or at least natural.

The middle movement was a crazy, tipsy waltz — delicious to hear. And the last movement was a joy. Mr. Zlabys chose a sane tempo, and you might even have thought too moderate a tempo. But, very important, he kept Prokofiev’s pulse. And the music included some wonderful virtuosic violence.

Curiously, there was no encore. The audience applauded and applauded, calling Mr. Zlabys back several times. Most musicians will play an encore at the drop of a hat — virtually unasked. Mr. Zlabys was absolutely done. This was either modest or stingy, depending on your point of view.

In music, as in other fields, age and experience are sometimes overrated. Mr. Zlabys is an unusually satisfying pianist now. He was born with talent, and he has been superbly taught. And — as one of his colleagues recently remarked to me — he is an honest pianist.

No, this is not a great age at the keyboard. But it is not barren. Young Simon Trpceski of Macedonia is a winner. And so is this fellow from Lithuania. We can be grateful.