After an extended absence, Lorin Maazel returned to Avery Fisher Hall last week, to conduct the orchestra of which he’s music director, the New York Philharmonic. His program consisted of a new piece for cello and orchestra, an old piece for cello and orchestra, and one of the world’s most popular symphonies (and not just the New World’s).

The new piece was Colin Matthews’s “Berceuse for Dresden,” given its premiere in Dresden on November 17.The forces on that occasion were the same as those in Avery Fisher Hall: Mr. Maazel, the Philharmonic, and the young German cellist Jan Vogler. The premiere was held in the Frauenkirche, newly rebuilt, and whose reconstruction this piece was designed to commemorate.

As you know, Dresden has been the subject of much revisionism in the past few years. Britons, in particular, have expressed remorse for the Allied bombing, and Dresden looms large in what you might call the Germany-as-Victim movement within Germany. In a program note, however, the composer – Mr. Matthews – informed us of something interesting: “Berceuse for Dresden” is dedicated to the memory of Victor Klemperer, the famed diarist whose life was essentially spared by the Dresden bombing.

(He was a Jew who escaped in the chaos.)

Mr. Matthews – a Briton himself – has had an exceedingly diverse career: as scholar, arranger, record producer, and other things. He is a jack of all musical trades. In the aforementioned program note, he explained that “Berceuse for Dresden” “is based almost entirely on the sounds of the eight bells of the Frauenkirche, their pitches transformed into long melodic lines for the solo cello, while the overtones of the bells give the underlying harmony of the piece.”

Now, you remember how it is with “program music,” kiddies: If someone tells you that a piece is a “berceuse for Dresden,” that’s what you hear – because you are obeying that suggestion. Same as you agree to hear four seasons, or a sorcerer’s apprentice, or Leningrad in wartime. But music by itself, without these suggestions, is merely …

Anyway, no need to lecture. It’s good to know what Mr. Matthews had in mind (just as it’s good to know what Vivaldi, Dukas, and Shostakovich had in mind). His piece features those long lines on the cello, and much busyness in the orchestra. It all adds up to a tremendous din. Why Mr. Matthews calls the work a “berceuse” – a lullaby – is unclear. It seems to me more a lament. But a composer is certainly entitled to name his own piece.

This Dresden work is almost the very definition of an occasional piece: a work composed for a specific occasion. I am not confident that it will long outlast November 17.Then again, cellists are always looking to expand their repertoire with orchestra.

On Saturday night, Jan Vogler displayed a burnished cello tone, and his affection for the music was obvious. Some poor intonation did him no good. As for Mr. Maazel, it’s hard to see how this work can be more intelligently conducted.

The “other” piece for cello and orchestra was Schumann’s concerto, which – though by a master – is not often heard. The piano concerto is very often heard, and the violin concerto probably comes in last place: barely heard at all. The cello concerto deserves a steadier presence in concert halls, and so does the violin concerto, for that matter. The former work was originally called a “Concert Piece for cello with orchestral accompaniment,” which suggests a certain modesty. The glory of this composition is its slow movement, an F-major beauty that reflects Schumann’s lyric genius. (The concerto overall is in A minor, like the piano concerto.) Treat yourself – if you haven’t already – to the Rostropovich/Bernstein recording.

The Philharmonic began the concerto horribly – with a wretched entrance. Mr. Vogler, too, would play some unhappy notes – imprecise in attack, sour in intonation. The bigger picture was no more comforting: It seemed that the young man had not completely mastered the concerto, had not absorbed it, made it his own. He had learned it competently, and he dutifully played the notes (those unhappy ones aside). But the music was generally absent.

And the maestro? He did his part in perfunctory fashion, apparently unwilling to rise above his soloist. The pizzicato in the slow movement was passably together, but the horn was positively painful. Seldom do you hear such an ugly sound coming from a professional orchestra.

The Cello Concerto in A minor may not be Schumann’s best piece, but it’s better than we were led to believe on Saturday night. Much less dull, for one thing.

At this point in the concert, Mr. Maazel owed us something – he had an obligation to make something happen. And he did, with that popular symphony mentioned above. As you know from my jest, this was Dvoryak’s Symphony No. 9 in E minor, “from the New World.” Talk about the power of suggestion (the suggestion of words): The Symphony No. 9 is practically as Bohemian as anything Dvoyrak ever wrote, even if it has some American touches.

I have frequently remarked the following about Mr. Maazel: One of his best qualities is to make the familiar – even the excessively familiar – sound fresh. To be interested in it. One of the works in which he shows this quality is the “New World” Symphony. In my experience, he never conducts this work – or any other work, really – the same way twice. He is very well prepared, but he relies on inspiration, interpretive bolts from the blue (even if those bolts sometimes do damage).

On Saturday night, the first movement of the symphony was fast, but not overly so. Mr. Maazel had the orchestra playing crisply and sincerely, not grudgingly or cloyingly. And the horns, thank goodness, were not the least painful.

To be sure, Mr. Maazel imposed his little, uncommon ritards, and these were annoying (though not entirely uninteresting) – but other gestures, such as upward portamentos and sudden diminuendos, were pleasing, as well as surprising.

Like the first movement, the slow movement (“Goin’ Home”) was on the fast side, but it was not “let’s get this over with” fast; it was thoughtfully and musically so. The English-horn soloist, Thomas Stacy, sang nicely, and the harmony in the strings under him was beautiful. This movement had about it a spiritual innocence. When their turns came, Glenn Dicterow and Carter Brey – concertmaster and principal cello – played with exquisite tenderness and nostalgia. Who would have thought that this hackneyed music could still work its magic?

Under Mr. Maazel, the trio section of the scherzo was gloriously idiomatic. And he is wise to launch right into the finale – attacca! In this movement, the horns were blazing, and accurately blazing. (Unfortunately, there would be a bad flub at the end.) As he conducted, Mr. Maazel seemed to be experimenting with dynamics. You could almost hear him asking the orchestra, “Dare you do this with me? Can you follow me – improvise a little?” Mr. Maazel held the final note for a showily long time. But this was not, I admit, ineffective.

He makes it impossible for you to be jaded about the “New World” Symphony. The conductor himself – at 75 – is not sick of it. Why should you be? Know this, too: Saturday night was not the first time Mr. Maazel had conducted the “New World” Symphony that day; he and the orchestra had done a matinee, too.

The evening audience, to its credit, did not stream for the exits. (I can’t speak for the afternoon audience.) It clapped and clapped, calling Mr. Maazel back many times. It seemed sure that he would perform an encore, for he loves those: a Slavonic Dance, I thought, or a Prague Waltz (more Dvory ak). But Mr. Maazel called it a night. I considered that a bit of a cheat – but the guy goes his own way.