Gil Shaham, the Israeli-American violinist, programmed an appealing recital for Wednesday night. His venue was the Rose Theater, in the Home of Jazz at Lincoln Center. (That’s what they call it.) Mr. Shaham did not play any jazz. But he was awfully slick in music of Sarasate, at the end of the evening.

He began with Walton: the Sonata for Violin and Piano, composed in 1949. We don’t hear this much. Neither do we hear Walton’s violin concerto much. Far better known is the viola concerto — indeed, it’s just about the viola’s best friend. Walton’s sonata is intelligently crafted, and its dominant mood is melancholy. It has some not-so-melancholy elements, including a joke or two. And it has an exciting finish. But its main mood is worried, down — and maybe a little bitter.

I would not call this sonata a masterpiece, but it’s well worth knowing. And the violin repertory needs all the worthy pieces it can get. About three weeks ago in Carnegie Hall, Mr. Shaham played the violin concerto by William Schuman. He is performing public services.

And he’s playing well. At the beginning of the Walton, he did not make his best sounds. But he settled into himself, and his instrument. He was nimble, tender, alert. And he has an uncanny ability to play seamlessly. Sometimes his seamlessness turns into a kind of soup — unmusical soup. But not in this sonata, and not really in this recital. Mr. Shaham was unusually clean and disciplined.

One detail from the second movement of the Walton — a variation, with a martial feeling: menacing-martial. In this, Mr. Shaham was arresting.

His partner was Akira Eguchi, born in Tokyo, now living in New York. His playing was solid, sensitive, and stylish. It’s difficult to ask for more. Mr. Eguchi knew how to bring out certain lines of the piece. And this sonata is definitely for two, not one.

But Mr. Shaham dispensed with Mr. Eguchi for Bach: the Sonata No. 2 in A minor, a masterpiece (needless to say). Frankly, I had never thought of Mr. Shaham as a Bach player. I think of him as freewheeling his way through the Korngold Concerto. But Mr. Shaham proved a Bach player, indeed. He was free, but respectful. He was mature and composed. He applied proper weight to notes and phrases. And a love of Bach — certainly a reverence for him — shone through. Now and then, Mr. Shaham threatened to veer off course, technically. But no damage was done.

One could register a couple of complaints, and I will: In the Fugue, Mr. Shaham’s dynamics were insufficiently varied, leaving him too loud (monotonously so). And I think of the Andante as religioso, sublime, transcendent. From Mr. Shaham, it was a bit fast and down-to-earth — everyday. But at least he wasn’t afraid of the music, always confident.

Superbly played was the final movement, Allegro. This is rather a diabolical violin piece, in the family of Tartini and fiendish others. But, given who Bach was, even his diabolism is heavenly.

I might mention, as a reportorial aside, that Mr. Shaham did not use music — sheet music — in this sonata. For the rest of the program, yes. It was nice to see Mr. Shaham untethered to a music stand, in his Bach.

He began the second half with the “Sonata pimpante” of Joaquín Rodrigo. This has been a pretty good week in New York for that composer. Kate Royal, the British soprano, sang a group of his songs. And Mr. Shaham sprung this violin sonata on us. As I mentioned reviewing Ms. Royal, Rodrigo was good for more than a guitar concerto.

His sonata is full of charm, wit, zest, and beauty. Mr. Shaham did it justice — and so did Mr. Eguchi, some of whose playing sparkled, in a nearly de Larrocha-like way.

Then Mr. Shaham turned to his Sarasate — three showpieces, ending with the beloved “Zigeunerweisen.” Mr. Shaham was a true gypsy, but did not go nuts. He let his hair down, but never forgot his musical values. He was wonderfully virtuosic — but there is music to be enjoyed in these Sarasate pieces, too.

Mr. Shaham emphasized rhythm in a pleasurable way. He was at times guilty of exaggeration, but that fault is forgivable. And he was delightfully devil-may-care. You can forget how hard these pieces are. You don’t just toss them off. But that’s what Mr. Shaham appeared to be doing.

After “Zigeunerweisen,” a little girl in front of me — she is no doubt a violin student — jumped up and down, clapping with her hands over her head. She looked like a cheerleader. And she was quite right.