At the Musikvereinsaal in Vienna on March 31, 1913, Arnold Schonberg attempted to introduce the music of his students and friends to the public. The great pedagogue anticipated much resistance to the new form of orchestral expression and so originally intended to open the concert with the Prelude and Liebestod from “Tristan und Isolde.” However Alban Berg, Schonberg’s own star pupil and the artistic advisor for the verband (association) sponsoring the event, did not wish to compromise or pander to the crowd. Berg convinced his mentor to open with the most radical of the compositions, fellow student Anton Webern’s revolutionary “Six Pieces.” Schonberg’s instincts proved correct and, before the second of the Webern miniatures was completed, there were laughs and catcalls throughout the house mixed with an effort by the music’s supporters to counteract this rudeness with warm applause. By the time that the Chamber Symphony made its appearance, there were fistfights in the hall and, after Schonberg pleaded for quiet from the podium, Berg’s songs were ignored in favor of the pugilism in the theater. The police were summoned and the last piece, the “Kindertotenlieder,” programmed as an homage to the recently departed Mahler, were never heard that night.

After the incident, the Second Viennese School went underground, only performing its works at private homes where fewer instruments fit in friendly drawing rooms. Schonberg’s students spent much energy reducing his scores and those of their colleagues for intimate performance. Now is a good time for Schonberg’s Chamber Symphony; at Carnegie Hall on March 6, James Levine will lead his Boston Symphony Orchestra in the full chamber version. Down in the basement at Zankel Hall on Wednesday evening, the members of the Jerusalem Chamber Music Festival ran through the Webern miniaturization.

This is extremely dense music, a double reduction, if you will, of an imagined full-scale symphony for large orchestra. Each of the five instruments must carry a lot of weight. The players on Wednesday – Mathieu Dufour (flute), Karl-Heinz Steffens (clarinet), Kolja Blacher (violin), Danjulo Ishizaka (cello), and Elena Bashkirova (piano) – performed admirably. The outer movements were very excitingly and precisely performed, but a palpable drain of energy occurred midway through the slower section.

The rest of the concert contained one contemporary piece and a whole lot of Mozart. The “Aria” quartet by Israeli composer Betty Olivero, receiving its U.S. premiere, was deeply affecting, combining as it did the instrumentation from Olivier Messiaen’s “Quartet for the End of Time” (likewise for clarinet, violin, cello, and piano) with the sound of the diaspora from Ernest Bloch’s “A Voice in the Wilderness” – all overlaid with the modal scales of cantorial cantillation. Using this particular material with an updated musical vocabulary reminded me of the direct link between the Nazis, Vichy France, and the Baath Party of Saddam Hussein that, until recently, paid $25,000 to the families of suicide bombers. To be a modern Israeli, Ms. Olivero seems to be saying, is to inherit many enemies. Parenthetically, there was quite a bit of increased security at this concert.

In addition to the Quintet for Piano and Winds, K. 452, the group offered a “Kegelstatt” Trio that can only be described as idiosyncratic. The Andante reminded me not of Jerusalem or even Vienna, but rather Venice, as the constant motion created by the gentle phrasing of Mr. Steffens was reminiscent of gondolas on the water. Stylistically, this was more of a Lisztian barcarolle and seemed oddly out of place in Mozart, but it was so hypnotically soothing that it lulled all objections.

As the work continued, however, a certain willfulness crept into this bizarre phrase construction. The trio, which included Ms. Bashkirova and violist Guy Ben-Ziony, performed this classic work as if it were jazz. I do not mean that they turned into Woody Herman and his Herd, but rather that they felt totally free to experiment with phrasing in a manner that went way beyond the pale of standard interpretation. All was rather interesting, but it should really have been labeled as their version of the piece.

The most satisfying performance of the evening was that of the Flute Quartet in D major, K. 285. Mr. Dufour is principal of the Chicago Symphony and has a remarkable tone. Experience allowed this flutist to guide his enthusiastic but not thoroughly developed charges to produce the tightest music making of this recital.

Of, course, it is impossible to know in advance, but Wednesday’s crowd was disappointingly small and would have easily fit upstairs in the Weill Recital Hall. Too bad, because it would have been so much more pleasant to hear this music without the subway obbligato.