The schedule gods had two violinists playing recitals in New York Wednesday night. At Carnegie Hall, the young German Christian Tetzlaff appeared, together with the pianist Leif Ove Andsnes; at Avery Fisher Hall, Itzhak Perlman appeared, with his regular accompanist, Rohan De Silva. Many would say that Mr. Tetzlaff represents the future of the violin, and Mr. Perlman the past. Let the record show, however, that there’s life in the old fellow yet.

And how odd it is, for the majority of us, to think of Mr. Perlman as the old fellow. He used to be the new fellow, succeeding Isaac Stern and the rest. For years now, the rap on him has been that he’s a victim of celebrity, grown lazy and schlocky. Sometimes he is. But sometimes he’s still Itzhak Perlman, which is a mighty thing to be.

He began his recital on Wednesday night with Mozart, that composer’s Sonata in E minor, K. 304, perhaps the best known of the violin sonatas. The opening movement, from Mr. Perlman, was sharply defined, and smoothly lyrical. Is Avery Fisher Hall a little big for this sonata? Maybe, but a good performer knows how to compensate. Mr. Perlman’s Mozart was thoroughly musical: not fussy, not scrubbed, not precious. Some technique was wanting, however: The violinist’s intonation was off, and his sound seems not what it was – a few burrs have entered into it. But his musical sense overrode all technical deficiencies.

The second (and final) movement is marked Tempo di Menuetto, and Mr. De Silva rendered his part with notable grace. Mr. Perlman played somewhat freely, but not un-Classically – he has too much taste to violate Mozart.

Following this E-minor gem, our duo played the granddaddy of all violin sonatas, Beethoven’s in A major, Op. 47, called the “Kreutzer.” Mr. Perlman and Beethoven have long been a good match, and the violinist brought his considerable musicality to bear on this great work: his judgment in tempos, weight, dynamics. But, again, technique was another matter. Seldom do you witness such a gap between musical authority and technical quality. Mr. Perlman’s intonation seemed to have left him.

Most successful in the sonata was the Finale, marked Presto, which Mr. Perlman took at a quite measured, unracing tempo – highly effective. Mr. Perlman made that thing bounce and quiver. What he owns – that musicality – cannot be bought, or otherwise acquired. Neither can it be lost. Mr. Perlman’s spirit, and Beethoven’s, shone unstoppably.

And we must not overlook Mr. De Silva, especially given that Beethoven called these sonatas works for piano and violin (not for violin and piano). More than a sidekick, Mr. De Silva was a commendable partner.

After intermission we had a new piece, “Episodes,” by Ellen Taafe Zwilich, composed for Mr. Perlman two years ago. (At least, Mr. Perlman – and Mr. De Silva – gave the premiere.) Ms. Zwilich is a composer well known in New York, and across the country, and she has written a good piece – or pieces, rather, for these “Episodes” are two, the first marked Arioso, the second marked Vivace. The Arioso is, indeed, a song, though a violinistic one (and it has a dash of virtuosity). Mr. Perlman gave it that plump, beautiful sound we like, and his fingers were nimble. The piano part is not negligible, and Mr. De Silva handled it well.

The Vivace is scherzo-like, almost an angry scherzo, certainly a fiendish one, and a dancing one. Mr. Perlman played it with pleasure and command. I can imagine people sneering, “Leave it to Perlman, to play new music that’s safe.” Of course, “safe” can mean listenable and enjoyable, two traits that should not be sins.

Then it was on to Smetana, for his two-part “From the Homeland.” In the second, particularly, Mr. Perlman oozed the style for which he is famous. Joe Suave, he can be.

Speaking of style, and suavity: As usual, Mr. Perlman reserved the last part of his recital program for lighter pieces, announced from the stage. These are “lollipops,” in Sir Thomas Beecham’s terminology – but that does not denote unworthiness. As he always does, Mr. Perlman engaged in some shtick, pretending to search through his sheet music for something to play. He began with a superb piece of Fritz Kreisler, the “Tempo di minuetto” – we had already had one of those – “in the style of Pugnani.” Unfortunately, Mr. Perlman did not do justice by this neo-Baroque, or faux-Baroque, standout: He slopped and slurred and slid his way through it. This was the careless, schlocky playing of his worst critics’ charges.

But he rebounded with a nice little Weber Larghetto, and then the Fiocco Allegro that he has long favored (Mr. Rohan accompanied this with a particular felicity.) Of special interest was another piece of Kreisler, his “Marche miniature viennoise,” which – like the last movement of Beethoven’s “Kreutzer” – was slower than you normally hear it. And more effective. Mr. Perlman can really make music snap to attention.

Then it was a Wienawski caprice, and a Faure lullaby, and some tangy Falla, arranged by Kreisler, and Mr. Perlman was gone. He knows how to put together a program: They are meaty and fun. Artur Schnabel, the Austrian pianist, famously quipped, “My programs are boring both before and after intermission.” Mr. Perlman serves his audience some dessert (too much, for some).

May I close with something extraneous? In the pianist’s bio, we saw, “Mr. De Silva, a native of Sri Lanka, began his piano studies with his mother, the late Primrose De Silva …” Have you ever heard a prettier name?