In 2003 I covered the opening night of the National Chamber Orchestra of Armenia in Yerevan for a European publication. The orchestra was much as I had expected: like most of the professional organizations of contemporary Armenia, it has seen better days.

The real story was the audience. Dressed in their best, albeit sometimes threadbare, finery, the crowd was attentive and appreciative — this was a gathering of true music lovers, people who had grown up studying music in the home, most with at least a rudimentary ability to navigate a keyboard and read a simple score.

Out of this homegrown tradition comes Natalia Kazaryan, a Georgian of Armenian descent. She presented a piano recital Tuesday evening in the chapel of St. Bartholomew’s Church under the auspices of the Stecher and Horowitz Foundation Young Artists Series.

When reviewing aspirants not yet fully matured, it is often difficult to combine the knowledge of their potential growth with the understanding of their immaturity. By what standards should they be judged? In the case of the 19-year-old Ms. Kazaryan, the problem was solved by her prodigious ability to perform at a highly proficient adult level.

She is a student of Jerome Lowenthal, who was in attendance this evening. Beginning with Haydn, specifically the Sonata in E major, Hob. XVI:31,she immediately established an atmosphere of strength and confidence. Especially notable were her clear lines and sound definitions between individual notes. Although I might have wished for a tad more grace, this was fine, declarative music making.

Chopin’s Sonata in B-flat Minor is forever associated with its third movement, in the same way that the “Moonlight” is always immediately identified by its famous introduction. For a performance of it to be good, the funeral march must be good.

And so it was this night. Ms. Kazaryan’s initial statement of the famous theme — forever corrupted in the mind’s ear by innumerable Bugs Bunny cartoons — was eloquently slow and exquisitely measured. It was, however, rather on the loud side, and I wondered how she could magnify it by crescendo in the reprise without resorting to percussive thwacking. But Ms. Kazaryan knew what she was doing, bringing the marche macabre back ever louder and more frightening while never losing her sense of proper timbre or intonation.

She had previously set a dramatic mood with a fiery first movement that proceeded without pause into a riproaring Scherzo of Mephistophelean intensity. Only that strange last Presto movement was disappointing, a little too muddy after so much clarity.

Tchaikovsky’s Theme and Variations in F major may not be one of his better pieces musically, but it is an excellent barometer to present at a first recital. Tchaikovsky really takes the term variations seriously, producing a dozen or so completely differing takes on the Slavic material. Here Ms. Kazaryan had an opportunity to show off her comfort level with comedy and tragedy, fast runs and slow contemplations, loud ambuscades and soft dream images. Her entire palette was on display and it was decidedly multicolored.

Lastly, Ms. Kazaryan bravely plunged into Prokofiev’s seemingly discordant Sonata No. 4 in C minor with glee, making the material come to life as only an adolescent can. Sure, there is much room to grow, but overall this was a wonderful recital.

***

For her recital at St. Paul’s Chapel on Monday, pianist Kanae Koshi chose music in four very different styles, and proved she is conversant with every single one of them.

Ms. Koshi, who studied at the Toho Gakuen School before emigrating to America, where she was for a time a pupil of Joseph Kalichstein, began with Debussy, specifically book two of “Images.”

Poetically this was very fine playing, even as the technique was a bit jarring. Debussy really needs to be played as if the piano had no hammers, but Ms. Koshi adopted an approach of strength. She made it work well enough, but a lighter touch would have been much appreciated. Still, she was aware of the coloristic possibilities of these watery tableaux, especially when keeping the sustaining pedal depressed at the culmination of “Et la lune descend sur le temple qui fut,” which produced delicious overtones. And the glints from her strongly swimming Poissons d’or were dazzling.

Ferruccio Dante Michelangelo Benvenuto Busoni has come down in musical history as a consummate arranger of Bach for the modern keyboard. Busoni’s treatments of the Baroque master transcend any sort of simple piano transcription, and instead can be regarded as newly composed pieces that exhibit complex architecture, grandness of scale, and deep emotional content.

These new pieces are totally modern, so transformed from the originals as to make them entirely different creations. Busoni’s transcriptions began to take on a life of their own almost immediately, forever establishing their performers as exponents of their own interpretive art and not at all interested in the slavish recreation of the lost sounds of the past. For a modern pianist trying to make her own statement, programming Busoni speaks volumes.

Ms. Koshi’s performance of the Chaconne from Bach’s Violin Partita No.2 in D minor, BWV 1004 was by far the jewel in this concert’s crown. Ms. Koshi is a diminutive woman and summons percussive power by literally jumping up and down on that piano bench. St. Paul’s employs a baby grand Steinway, which shook as this enthusiastic practitioner mounted her attacks. This recitalist appeared in danger of sounding like a pounder, but, in actuality, her tones were always forceful and tasteful, arresting and grandiloquent. Her resultant power belied her size and reminded of that extremely strong-handed Russian school of pianism and past immortals like Emil Gilels, Lazar Berman, and Sviatoslav Richter.

Ms. Koshi was similarly undaunted as she navigated the full range of the keyboard in Toru Takemitsu’s “Rain Tree Sketch II,” producing some very fetching sounds from those highest white keys.

Finally, some Chopin. Ms. Koshi offered a solid rendition of the Barcarolle, Op.60,notable for its unabashed big gestures and confident chordal structure. She eschews the type of rubato — slight pauses not written in the score combined with a certain elasticity of melodic line — that gives this music such individuality, but her metrical, straightforward approach was also very entertaining, letting some fresh air into what can otherwise be somewhat flowery expression. I would have wished for more emphasis in the left hand when the melody is stated there, but her equilibrium of enunciation was impressive sui generis.