The one major gesture in the flashy direction was the Prokofiev Second Sonata — and even there, the piece was within bounds. First composed for flute and piano in 1943, the Sonata was transcribed by the composer for violin and piano (at the violinist David Oistrakh's request) the following year. The piece belongs to Prokofiev's lighter neo-classical style, much in the vein of the First and Seventh Symphonies, which is a tad odd considering that it was written during the grimmest days of World War II. Perhaps he sought to cheer people a little.

It came as the finale to a demanding evening, and Mok seemed to have tired a bit. There were intonation slips, especially in the finale, where she missed a few high notes. (Nothing grievous, mind you; but occasionally not quite on the mark either.) Still, the general effect was excellent, and brought a substantial ovation from the audience.

Messiaen's Theme and Variations, his first chamber work and one of only two for violin and piano, preceded the Prokofiev. The broad theme followed by five variations hints at his compositions of the 1940s. There's that elevated elegance in it that also appears in his organ suite L'Ascension — later orchestrated — written over the following two years. But Messiaen had not yet found his mature sound palette, nor began the use of his trademark bird-song quotations. So by the standard of his later music the Variations are relatively conventional, notably in the simplistic rhythmic and harmonic textures. Yet Messiaen's fingerprints are all over the score. Even in his mid-20s, the man had his own voice.

Mok played beautifully throughout, with a particular soaring grandeur where the main theme returns at the end. Graber tended to emphasize the skittish aspects of the piano part, with its little high figurations hinting at the bird-song style of the later works. On the whole this performance was the high point of the evening. It all went to demonstrate that nothing by Messiaen is really “minor” in quality, not even the earliest music.

Brahms' Second Violin Sonata belongs to one of his chamber-music summers off in the mountains — the summer of 1886 to which we owe not only this Sonata but the F-major Cello Sonata and the C-minor Piano Trio. Of the three, the violin work is much the most lyrically warm and charming, and Mok and Graber did all they could to emphasize those qualities.

There's a light, unbuttoned touch in this piece, one that makes it somehow akin to the Prokofiev Sonata that followed later in the program. It's as Viennese in its sunny outlook as can be, and almost free of the dark corners found in the other late Brahms chamber works. There are also wonderfully winning little snips of Brahmsian wit, especially the jaunty dance sections that turns up within the slow movement. You can almost hear the mountain breezes.

Mok and Graber captured all this with gracious understatement. Mok's generally “classic” performance manner was much in evidence here. She studiously avoided sentimentality — always a temptation in Brahms. There were no showbiz closed eyes, head back accompanied by painful facial expressions, &c. — a thing I much admired. She just stood there, more or less quietly paying respect to the composers, no hint of hard sell. There's integrity in her playing, of a most admirable sort.

That was generally true of Graber as well, except that he is a somewhat more demonstrative player, and did overbalance the violin slightly at times. For an experienced accompanist and chamber-music player to allow that to happen at all came as a surprise; but it was happily only an occasional problem, not a constant threat. His was a strong and musical support all evening long.

Mok offered only one brief encore, the cadenza-like runabout, Kreisler's La Gitana, which Mok tossed off with considerable aplomb.