The current subscription series of the New York Philharmonic is loaded. Loaded with what? With Lang Lang, the pianistic phenom; with Heidi Grant Murphy, the superb soprano; with Augusta Read Thomas, the highly regarded composer; and with a couple of orchestral favorites for the Philharmonic to shine in.

Ms. Thomas is now composer-in-residence at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, but her “Gathering Paradise”: Emily Dickinson Settings (for Soprano and Orchestra) is a New York Philharmonic commission. It had its premiere on Wednesday night.

It is de rigueur for American composers to set Dickinson, understandably: She’s practically as unavoidable as Shakespeare. In fact, Ms. Thomas herself had set Dickinson before. “Gathering Paradise” gathers seven short poems, although this piece is without pauses: It is a connected whole.

Before the Philharmonic played the piece – and Ms. Murphy sang it – Zarin Mehta, executive director of the orchestra, came out and announced that Ms. Thomas would say a few words about the piece. My bias is that music should explain itself, without talk. And, indeed, Ms. Thomas – in her friendly and mercifully brief remarks – said nothing that should not have been obvious once the performers got going.

“Gathering Paradise” is like many – many – of its American cousins: busy, nervous, jazzy. Brass are prominent, and the orchestra at large is given interesting colors. The piece alternates between orchestral outbursts and quieter, more inward sung lines. Unfortunately, everything is a little halting. That is, one does not hear a poem in anything like a natural flow; one hears it all broken up. Therefore, it’s hard to catch what a poem is saying. The words do not seem to be related to one another, even if the notes do.

Also, I find it odd that a piece with so much material to work with – and so many sections to present – should come off as monotonous. At least it did so to me. But it is undoubtedly a thoughtful and well-crafted work, which orchestras and sopranos will want. That is certainly my guess.

As for the performance, the Philharmonic was alert and adept, and Heidi Grant Murphy – well, she is a nearly perfect singer. I have just a couple of quibbles: First, I wish her English had been more American. For example, when she sang “act,” it was British: “ahct.” Second, might she not have memorized the work?

“Gathering Paradise” was performed right after intermission. The piece directly before intermission was the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto – the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto: Need I say that it was No. 1 in B-flat minor? – played by Mr. Lang, our phenom. This account was both eccentric and interesting. You would expect nothing else from this pianist and the conductor, Lorin Maazel.

In the opening, the horns faltered slightly, but Mr. Lang’s chords were powerful, well judged, deep-into-the-keys. His playing throughout the first movement had a purposefulness; he was not merely tossing off notes. It also had a nice ruminative quality, and a spirit of play. His octaves? They were lightning-fast, head-spinning.

The second movement was on the slow side, with Mr. Maazel exhibiting immediately one of his peculiarities: Of those plucked notes in the orchestra, the second was accented – why, I have no idea; but (again) it was interesting. And if the outer sections of this movement were abnormally slow, the middle section was abnormally fast: and Mr. Lang was frightfully accurate in it.

The closing movement was a slopfest. The pianist was sloppy, the orchestra was sloppy – Tchaikovsky was made to seem sloppy. Moreover, this movement was very weirdly accented, as the performers tried to emphasize its peasant quality.

Overall, I would hate to hear the Tchaikovsky Concerto this way every time. But once? Sure. And a final word on this: One of the joys of this concerto is that we hear the pianist struggle in it. But with Mr. Lang, there is no struggle. From a technical point of view, he might as well be playing a Bach sarabande.This may detract a bit from Tchaik One. But what would we have Mr. Lang do? Pretend it’s not so easy for him?

The concert had begun with the “Khovanshchina” Prelude by Mussorgsky (which the Philharmonic is now spelling “Musorgsky,” although we will stick with the doubleess, thank you). Orchestra and conductor were uncharacteristically poor, indifferent, unsmooth. In the closing work on the program, however, they were up to snuff. That was Bartok’s “Miraculous Mandarin” Suite, in which the players were taut, precise, and dazzling.

And Mr. Maazel provided an encore: the same one he has provided after each program this year, Dvorak’s Slavonic Dance No. 1 in B major. He gave it to the audience even though it had thinned out considerably – good for him. The piece sounded a little more tired than it had on previous occasions, but it still did its trick.

***

We missed a trick, however. Monday’s review of “Die Walkure” – at the Metropolitan Opera – was published without its ending. So here is that ending, with apologies to Brunnhilde, who is not a girl to be messed with, unless you’re Wotan. (Even if you’re Wotan, actually.)

Last, but certainly not least, there’s a new Brunnhilde in the house. She is Olga Sergeeva, making her Met debut (as was [Mikhail] Kit [the Wotan]).

Her intonation was dicey, but she was a game Brunnhilde, a flexible Brunnhilde – almost a rubbery one. She sang with vigor and daring, and often with insightfulness. Never was she better than when Brunnhilde pleads her case with Wotan, before taking her rest. Ms. Sergeeva also looks the part of Brunnhilde – a comic-book Brunnhilde. That helps. Fair or not, it always does.