One of the greatest joys of a music critic is looking back over a long career and remembering fondly those performers that, as young people, clearly would rise to the upper echelon of performers if indeed that was their wish. At Weill Recital Hall in 2000 I heard Janine Jansen make her American debut at 21, although looking all of 15. I wrote at the time that she was exceptional and on her way.

Today she is a superstar and deservedly so. Not every wunderkind craves the limelight. The best young pianist that I ever experienced – and she was no more than twelve or thirteen – told me candidly at the time that she would not pursue a musical career. She is today a very adroit structural engineer right here in New York.

The Juilliard and Manhattan schools are the most fertile local breeding grounds, and it was at Juilliard a few seasons ago that I enjoyed tremendously – and said so in these pages – a graduate student from Norway whose violin playing was extremely expressive and whose tone was superb. Earlier this month, he made his premiere at Weill, and brought along his talented sister.

Billed as “David and Julie” and just as fresh-faced as the young Eisenhower couple was in the early 1970’s, the Coucheron siblings offered a challenging program of Norwegian music from the familiar to the exotic to the controversial. He is now concertmaster of the Atlanta Symphony and she, at 25, is a major international contest winner. None of which would amount to a hill of beans without the sense that they are both truly exceptional musicians.

It took only a measure or two of the Sonata No. 2 of Edvard Grieg to realize why David was picked for his current post. A concertmaster must have a tone different from his fellow first violins so that he can stand out as ersatz soloist in many orchestral passages. Last evening’s tone was raw-boned, big-voiced, eminently rich and charmingly drew attention to itself in the most seductive manner. Mr. Coucheron has the loan of an eighteenth century instrument, but his consciousness is singularly his own. In general this was a fine performance of the more folksy of the Grieg sonatas, Julie matching David stroke for stroke, Nannerl to his Wolfgang.

The spectacular opus in the Grieg chamber oeuvre is the C Minor Sonata No. 3. Here David navigated the tricky emotional waters (and oddly dotted rhythmic ones) with seeming ease. That tone took on the aspect of the commanding and the result was an authoritative sounding interpretation. Julie (sorry for the familiarity, but they market themselves this way) had more trouble here than elsewhere, sometimes showing the strain of some of the many rhythmic challenges, but never resorting to pounding or fakery to achieve her goals. Not note perfect perhaps, but eloquent nonetheless.

One of the most beautiful melodies in all of music is the E Major opening piano solo of the second movement. This listener was disappointed in the phrasing of the lines, not lyrically held but rather somewhat discursive. David played the violin reprise in the same manner. A matter of personal taste, I suppose, but a significant blow to the overall lyricism of the piece.

In the second half, more obscure Norwegian music was trotted out, a good thing in and of itself. Christian Sinding’s A Minor Suite gave David some trouble in its rapid beginning, but then the duo settled in for an interesting traversal. History records that in his later years Sinding was both a Nazi and certifiably unhinged (not necessarily antithetical designations), so his music was banned for a long period in Norway. Much more satisfying was the ultramodernist Johan Kvandal, whose Aria, Cadenza e Finale was taught to this formidable pair of young performers by the composer himself. Minor seconds for the angst-ridden abounded.

The formal program ended with the Carmen Fantasy of Franz Waxman, a Hollywood ex-pat contemporaneous with Heifetz. The piece suffers from virtuosity for its own sake and European artists from time immemorial have been ending their American recitals with similar balls of fluff. This type of step down into the world of kitsch always disappoints, but the Coucherons are still young and obviously under the influence of teachers and promoters who think they know the formulae for success. The concert as a whole had already showcased their musical nutritional properties; there was little need for such a cheap fattening dessert.