Jonathan Larson never really belonged to the world. The composer, lyricist, and librettist, who died in 1996 after suffering an aortic aneurysm at age 35 — less than 24 hours before his most famous musical, “Rent,” staged its first preview performance off-Broadway — found posthumous stardom of a sort, and more than once. “Rent” became a national sensation after opening on Broadway just months after his death, capturing four Tony Awards, including best musical, book, and score.

Larson became a headline entertainment story again in 2021, when Andrew Garfield played him in “Tick, Tick…Boom!,” a film based on Larson’s earlier, semi-autobiographical show of the same title and directed by Lin-Manuel Miranda, the creator and star of “Hamilton.” But Larson’s core fan base never became as wide as Mr. Garfield’s, or Mr. Miranda’s for that matter.

Larson’s most devoted admirers remain within that group of true believers referred to, usually with at least some affection, as musical theater nerds. These are the folks who, as kids, dress up as Sweeney Todd or Elphaba on Halloween, and memorize show tunes as avidly as their peers do contemporary pop songs. 

Spanning generations, such geeks were out in all their — well, our — glory at a recent preview of “The Jonathan Larson Project,” the beautifully structured tribute now running at the East Village’s Orpheum Theatre. The intimate venue has been turned into a makeshift shrine to the late artist, with pastel-colored leaflets acknowledging Larson’s lesser-known musicals and revues plastered on the walls and in the restrooms.

I’ll confess that Larson’s work never knocked me out the way it has many others who share my passion for his medium. But Jennifer Ashley Tepper, the writer and producer who conceived “Project” — she’s also creative and programming director for 54 Below, a popular cabaret venue — has conceived a loving homage that, under John Simpkins’ buoyant direction, will be manna for Larson’s fans, and charm anyone who can appreciate their ardor.

“Project” showcases material best known to diehards, including songs cut from “Rent” and “Boom” or written for revues or radio or unproduced shows. Some were discovered after Larson’s death; some have never been publicly performed or recorded. They’ve been organized here into a thread that presents, with virtually no dialogue in all but one segment, the themes, flavors, and concerns that characterized and informed Larson’s work.

Mr. Simpkins has recruited a youthful, appealing cast to drive the musical narrative, which essentially introduces us to a group of artists — less aggressively bohemian than the characters in “Rent,” perhaps, but not so much normies as the characters in, say, “Friends” — figuring out their lives, careers, and purposes. Bouncy ensemble numbers segue into individual showcases for the performers’ vocal and dramatic chops.

Lauren Marcus is a distinctive comedic presence, whether flirting with the approaching apocalypse in the jazzy “Break Out the Booze” or evincing a housewife’s nervous breakdown in the increasingly frantic “Hosing the Furniture.” The latter is one of the more visually graphic numbers, with smoke eventually disrupting Michael Schweikardt’s picture-perfect set design for the scene.

With Charlie Rosen’s orchestrations, other tunes, like “Valentine’s Day” and “Falling Apart,” respectively led by Andy Mientus and Adam Chanler-Berat, evoke the kind of melodramatic rock anthems heard on radio in the 1980s. The thumping “Out of My Dreams” — not the Rodgers and Hammerstein waltz — could be a dance track from that era, and the lush-voiced Taylor Iman Jones delivers it gamely, while modeling a black slip and painted-on boots.

“Project” also, inevitably, waxes political. “The Vision Thing” presents a corrupt yokel of a campaign manager trying to get his female candidate — a Republican, as would be expected — to flaunt her more obvious assets. “White Male World” and “The Truth is a Lie” are similarly simplistic in railing against sexism, racism, commercialism, and jingoism, as American flags wave ironically, as if to suggest ours is the only country where these -isms pose a threat.

In contrast, “Iron Mike,” one of the songs being unveiled for the first time here, is as powerful in its message as it is melodically soaring. Written in 1990, it details the previous year’s catastrophic Exxon Valdez oil spill with a lyrical urgency that’s made all the more potent by Jason Tam’s exquisite bari-tenor and passionate but disciplined delivery.

Mr. Tam and Ms. Jones prove the standout singers, particularly as “Project” draws to a close with a trio of poignant and uplifting songs: “Pura Vida,” “Love Heals,” and “Piano.” We also hear Larson, who appears through Alex Basco Koch’s video design, sing part of the last song, as the performers watch, at one with the audience. Clearly, for many, if not for everyone, Larson’s seasons of love endure.