Glendale Symphony Delivers Solid Beethoven’s Sixth

Looking composed, relaxed, even a little bored, Sidney Weiss opened the Glendale Symphony’s 75th season Saturday night with an impressive performance of the orchestra’s longtime stock in trade: standard repertory.

The veteran concertmaster-turned-late-blooming-conductor--he has served in that crucial capacity with both the Chicago Symphony and the Los Angeles Philharmonic--capped a strong showing by the Glendale ensemble in the handsome auditorium of the Alex Theatre with as solid a reading of Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony as you are likely to hear in all of Southern California. And he did it without dancing, miming or making faces.

The glory days of the ad-hoc (that means a usually stable but sometimes unpredictable roster of players, from event to event) Glendale Symphony may not have returned, but its playing reflects a longtime high standard.

The orchestra personnel are familiar professional names in this area, accomplished and experienced. A no-nonsense conductor like the stoic Weiss is just the leader they require; for the most part, after choosing a tempo right for each occasion, he lets them alone to do their best. And they do it.

This account of the Sixth Symphony had charms aplenty, a wondrous achievement of ensemble balance and clarity, individual contributions of high quality. The woodwind soloists, for instance, were Sheridon Stokes (flute), Roy d’Antonio (clarinet), Leslie Reed (oboe), James Atkinson (horn) and Leslie Lashinsky (bassoon). Seldom has Beethoven’s bucolic romping seemed so natural and unforced.

The rest of the program also pleased, if on a lower level of energy. After the national anthem, there was Dukas’ brass Fanfare from “La Peri” and Weber’s “Oberon” Overture, both neatly executed.

Then, Glendale concertmaster David Stenske took the soloist’s limelight and played an effortless, virtuosic and warm-toned performance of Bruch’s Scottish Fantasy, solidly backed by Weiss and the orchestra.

Stenske’s performance was so easy and sweat-free, one became more aware of the work’s static qualities than if he had struggled. Maybe the Scottish Fantasy is like haggis: only for certain tastes.