I probably have said this in print before, but I simply don’t understand why the extraordinary chamber group Concertante is not playing at major American venues. Though I have great fondness for Merkin Hall, it is decidedly a minor league arena; Concertante should be featured in a series at Weill or Alice Tully.

Maybe I have a distorted idea of the mission of this remarkable ensemble. It is perhaps not in existence simply to perform, but rather to provide a significant stepping-stone to the top echelon, a finely honed Triple-A team. Its personnel changes over time, but the quality and the youthful vigor remain steadfastly intact. Concertante’s concert Tuesday evening assured me that, whatever its raison d’etre, there is not a finer assemblage of intimate communicators in all of New York.

This particular iteration of the group – Xiao-Dong Wang and Ittai Shapira, violins; Rachel Shapiro and Ara Gregorian, violas; and Alexis Pia Gerlach and Zvi Plesser, cellos – plunged deeply into Frank Bridge’s sextet from 1912. Bridge is primarily known outside of England as the principal teacher of Benjamin Britten, but he was a forward-looking composer in his own right. This thick chamber piece is reminiscent of Max Reger or Alexander Zemlinsky, nudging up close to the border of pantonality but not crossing over. The performance was excellent and remarkably well balanced. There is one long ear-catching section in which the violins drop out (Bridge was a violist), and the contrast in group timbre was especially pleasing. This truly fine rendition left me wanting to explore Bridge’s obscure work in greater detail.

For how many years have I been treated to warm and convivial performances of the Brahms First Sextet? Well, more than I care to remember, but one fact is undeniable: This was the finest performance of this sunny piece that I have ever experienced. Here we had a superb blending, the deeply intoned cello arpeggios thrilling in their zaftig bedrock of strength, the individual viola utterances positively sung out in a human sense, the players so totally involved as to pantomime the phrases with their facial expressions like sensitive operatic performers, the violins sailing above it all with an angelic air.

Not only bardic communication and solid technique graced this evening, but also a savvy sense of the nuances of the composer. These folks understand the secret of extraordinary Brahmsian communication: Never play the repeat of a phrase exactly the same way as the original. The poetry is in the details; it’s odd that many more celebrated artists miss this boat entirely.

Also worthy of note was a performance of Lou Harrison’s string trio from 1946. The able musicians of Concertante were especially conversant with Harrison’s emotional side, realizing an impassioned testament of great beauty.

Often we fortunate New Yorkers have the opportunity to root out high-level music-making at venues that are not as well supported by advertising dollars as halls with big names but questionable stewardship. The search is well worth the effort: The purest pearls are found inside oysters that lie at the furthest depths.