Maxim Vengerov, the great violinist, strode onto the stage of Carnegie Hall Saturday night — but he was the third one out. He had with him a pianist and a cellist, for this wasn’t a recital, or a concerto appearance, but a trio concert. The pianist was Lilya Zilberstein, a Russian who enjoys a diverse career. And the cellist was Alisa Weilerstein, an American, merely 24 years old. Han-Na Chang is not the only cellist in her mid-20s to make waves.

I have called Mr. Vengerov great, but he is only 31 — and has been great for many years. We saw in his bio that 2005 was a “sabbatical year” for him, in which he “studied improvisation.” Frankly, I’m not sure how one studies improvisation, for the whole point of improvising … Anyway, Mr. Vengerov also learned the tango, which must enhance life.

The trio played two of the most extraordinary works in the chamber literature: Shostakovich’s Piano Trio No. 2 in E minor, Op. 67, and Tchaikovsky’s Piano Trio in A minor, Op. 50. Shostakovich wrote his Op. 67 in 1944, and it serves as a commemoration of a close friend. Given the war, the friend’s death, Stalin, etc., this is not exactly a New Year’s Eve piece.

And Tchaikovsky’s trio is one of the greatest pieces that composer ever wrote. It, too, commemorates a death: of Nikolai Rubinstein, the towering Russian musician.

The Vengerov-Zilberstein-Weilerstein Trio played the Shostakovich superlatively. They were together, in balance, and full of understanding. Each of them has technical mastery over his instrument. And their meshing musicality resulted in a memorable performance.

The second movement — Allegro non troppo — is a storm, a sustained storm. You might say, too, that Shostakovich appears to be trying to grin through despair. The pianist, Ms. Zilberstein, began the Largo with majestic chords, absolutely riveting. And, by the way, she can truly sing on the keyboard — the notes don’t die when she hits them.

The final movement — Allegretto — had its mockery, insouciance, and lilt. And then all hell broke loose, with some circus zaniness coming to the fore. This is how Shostakovich wrote, and presumably thought, and these players knew it.

In recent years, I have been rethinking conventional wisdom. We all know that chamber ensembles composed of soloists — particularly star soloists — are no good. Or at least less good than full-time trios and quartets. I have come to believe this is bunk. Give me talented players — first-class musicians — and I don’t care if they have one rehearsal, or none.

Unfortunately, our starry trio let down in the Tchaikovsky. A whole lot went wrong in the first movement. Ms. Weilerstein played beautifully — really beautifully — but also tended sharp. Ms. Zilberstein committed some odd, unflowing phrasing. And Maxim Vengerov? He missed a fair number of notes, and was guilty of scary intonation. This was most un-Vengerov-like.

Worse, Tchaikovsky’s music became far too slow, almost static, deprived of momentum. And Mr. Vengerov schmaltzed it up more than was helpful.

The closing movement, which brings a theme and variations, was better. Ms. Zilberstein might have stated the theme more straightforwardly, but she was tolerable. And I might mention that she can play loud — very loud — without pounding. Her octaves were rounded and resonant. As for Ms. Weilerstein, she was always alive in her music-making, and Mr. Vengerov was not bad at all.

When they got to the exuberant A-major variation near the end of the work, they were rockin’ — to use a word you don’t often see in chamber-music reviews. They were imperfect, technically, but rockin’. Mr. Vengerov is catching, and his partners were happy to be caught. And they ended the work with appropriate mournfulness.

One final note: At one point, Mr. Vengerov quickly rose from his chair to turn a page for Ms. Weilerstein. It had been worked out in advance. The page-turn was too tricky for the cellist. And Mr. Vengerov handled it dashingly.

***

Sweden keeps producing singers, and we heard another one in Weill Recital Hall: Susanna Andersson, a young soprano who recently graduated from the Guildhall School in London. She is a high, lyric type, taking on such roles as the Queen of the Night, in Mozart’s “Magic Flute.” (Not that there are many such roles.)

Her recital on Friday night featured two Swedish composers, including Stenhammar, who is getting better and better known, thanks to Anne Sofie von Otter, Miah Persson, and others. To begin the program, however, Ms. Andersson sang Mozart, the real test of any singer’s mettle. This may be especially so in an exposed, intimate setting such as Weill Hall.

Ms. Andersson chose five songs, all in the German language. And her German is enjoyable: crunchy and clear. She showed a clean, fetching voice, although you would not call it a sweet one. It has steel in it, or fiber, if you like. Some additional warmth and pliancy would be beneficial.

Her technique proved okay, but she flatted more than was comfortable. One happy moment was this: The song “An die Einsamkeit” starts on a freestanding high note, and Ms. Andersson nailed it. And she was quite good in “Der Zauberer,” conveying the girlish excitement of that song.

Accompanying Ms. Andersson was Eugene Asti, a pianist we have had occasion to praise before. If Mozart is the test of a singer’s mettle, it is the test of a pianist’s, too, and Mr. Asti met it. He was graceful, tidy, and smart. He barely put a foot wrong. I would say, however, that his hesitations in the opening of “Abendempfindung” were ill-advised — very. Also, the tempo at large was too slow.

As for Ms. Andersson, she will sing this very great song better when she is older, and has acquired more depth. Pardon the condescension, but I believe it’s so.

After her Mozart, Ms. Andersson moved on to Strauss — two sets, the ones we usually hear from sopranos of her type. First, she sang the Three Songs of Ophelia, those amazingly insightful creations. Generally, she caught Strauss’s off-kilter qualities (and Ophelia’s). But she could do with some added Straussian bloom on top notes, and a little less tightness and steel.

Particularly good was the second song, whose breathless madness Ms. Andersson put over.

Following Ophelia were Strauss’s Brentano-Lieder, or rather, four songs from that set. In “Ich wollt’ ein Sträusslein binden,” Ms. Andersson had to be far slinkier, more insinuating. No stiffness will do in this song. But she was better in the next two songs, and she was wonderful in the concluding “Amor”: rapid-fire, quivering, delicious.

We see a pattern: In “Der Zauberer,” the Second Song of Ophelia, and “Amor,” Ms. Andersson was very effective.These are all quick songs. May she do as well in their dreamier cousins.

Throughout both Strauss sets, Mr. Asti accompanied stylishly, alertly, intelligently — he seems to be a bona fide musician.

After intermission, it was Swedish time: Ms. Andersson sang two songs of Stenhammar — decently, if with some sagging intonation — and then turned to the Four Folk Ballads of Wilhelm Peterson-Berger. This composer lived from 1867 to 1942.

Before she sang this set, Ms. Andersson gave a little speech, explaining that Peterson-Berger lived near where she was born, and that these songs are close to her heart. Better, in my opinion, to show that through one’s singing — to talk about it is slightly cheap. But Ms. Andersson, in fact, sang her Peterson-Berger persuasively.

She closed her program with Schumann: the “Sechs Gedichte von N. Lenau und Requiem.” This cycle reflects Schumann’s lyric genius — and genius for simplicity — and Ms. Andersson was capable in it. She gave the audience one encore: a dancy Swedish song, full of charm.

Is there anything better than a song recital — especially in a gem of a hall like Weill?