Monday night, the third night of the Salzburg Easter Festival, saw another concert by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, under Sir Simon Rattle. It also saw another star pianist — and about him, more in a moment.

The concert began with Dvorÿák’s tone poem “The Golden Spinning Wheel.” This is a wonderful, vivid, imaginative work, and Sir Simon and the BPO performed it just that way. The playing was full of flavor, and accurate too (for the most part). At one point, Dvorÿák gives us a merry, sweeping dance, and it was hard to sit still. The ending of “The Golden Spinning Wheel” may remind you of another Dvorÿák piece — “The Carnival Overture.” It was duly exciting.

The previous night, the piano soloist had been Yefim Bronfman, in Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 3 in D minor. This night, the soloist was Lang Lang, in Prokofiev’s Concerto No. 3 in C major. When the young man entered, members of the Berlin Philharmonic applauded enthusiastically, something you seldom see, from any orchestra, for any soloist.

In Prokofiev’s first movement, Lang Lang did several things to admire: He was playful and somewhat jazzy, and he applied an assortment of his colors. But he did some things to chafe at, too: Prokofiev is exact in his rhythm, and he knows what he’s doing — he knows better than Lang Lang. Yet the young man invented his own rhythms, blotting out Prokofiev’s. This was more than uncalled for. Also, some slows were simply too slow — Lang Lang has a weakness for extremes.

Moreover, he was sometimes not together with the orchestra — and this was not the fault of Sir Simon or the BPO.

In the second movement, Lang Lang did some beautiful playing, some exquisite playing. I have often said that he is more poet than virtuoso. But he showed a tendency to rush fast passages, and not in a youthful, giddy, uncontainable way — in a simply wrongheaded and unmusical way.

And how about the last movement? Lang Lang’s spirit of play was especially useful here. When he toyed with the music (as he is wont to do), it was not off-putting or ineffective. But the final section of this movement, and concerto, was a crashing disappointment. It is one of the most exciting stretches of music in the pianoand-orchestra literature. And Lang Lang started it loud, bangingly, giving himself nowhere to go. Any building was impossible. The music ought to be spooky, tense, and electric — and ultimately mind-jarring. From Lang Lang, it was merely noisy and messy. Moreover, he does not produce the big, virile, into-the-keys sound that is needed; he too often slaps the surface, as he showed in Bartok’s Second Concerto at Carnegie Hall a few weeks ago.

Nonetheless, the crowd responded with fervor (although with less fervor than for Mr. Bronfman). Rising to her feet was the widow of Herbert von Karajan, founder of the Easter Festival. Lang Lang bowed to her several times, hand over heart, mouthing “thank you.” He then sat down to play an encore, as Sir Simon took a seat in the back, next to the percussion. (I had never seen a conductor do this before.)

What Lang Lang played was that slow Chopin etude in E major, and it was okay: The melody was a little clunky and unsinging, and the lefthand accompaniment was a little mechanical. If you heard a student in the University of Iowa School of Music play this way, you’d say, “Gee, that was fairly pleasant.” But because Lang Lang is who he is, you swoon (maybe).

And a word about encores after concertos: They have become common, virtually de rigueur. Now not to play one is almost an embarrassment. It used to be you heard an encore after a concerto only on the most special of occasions. The present trend, in my opinion, is annoying and cheapening.

After intermission, Sir Simon and the Berlin Philharmonic played the most popular orchestral work of Janácek ÿ : his Sinfonietta, Op. 60. The work begins with a fanfare, and Sir Simon had his brass standing at the back. They played with superb technical control and fabulous sounds. Indeed, this performance as a whole was superb. Sir Simon was reasonable and compelling, and the orchestra was both virtuosic and stylish.

In truth, the BPO sounded a little lush for Janácek ÿ , and the playing was a little refined. This music can stand more roughness, or at least some grit. Never has the Sinfonietta seemed so Schubertian! But if that’s the worst offense an orchestra commits…