Some of the phrasing, often in the woodwinds and first violins, seemed overcautious, emphasizing sonority and unanimity over characterful accents or minute shades of dynamics. But Parkman's steadiness paid off. The 70-minute performance — just a few minutes longer than average for this symphony — never cracked. Only in the last movement, in the powerful brass perorations, did he flex the tempo more than necessary.

With its relatively relaxed, sober steadiness, this performance emphasized Bruckner's distinctive sonorities. The OEBS sounded splendid, with pure intonation in the winds and brass. If anything, the sheen was at times too imposing, particularly when the tuba and trombones drowned out the horns, precluding ideal Brucknerian balances.

Bruckner once foolishly proposed a trite narrative for this symphony (with hunting horns, bird calls, village parties, and deep woods). Such images had little to do with this performance, which stressed otherworldliness. There were mysteries aplenty in the string tremolos, the carefully gauged pauses, and the beautiful, haunting flute and clarinet solos. There was dread in the hammering repetitions of weighty brass chords and exuberance in the explosive Scherzo.

By comparison, Kaulkin's 10-minute work just scratches the surface of awe. Misterium Tremendum takes its title from astronomer Carl Sagan's musings about the search for cosmic truth, but this admittedly attractive music borrows so heavily from familiar idioms that it doesn't seem to achieve a close encounter with anything transcendent. The music begins with hushed strings in a high drone or hum and eventually starts moving with sliding notes and tremolo. This slowly builds in weight and motion as two trumpets punctuate the spaciousness with a simple motive suggesting something momentous to come. But the sounds seem borrowed — partly from Ives' Unanswered Question, perhaps, but most particularly from the "night" and "sunrise" of Richard Strauss's Alpine Symphony.

After the first climax, the music moves on to a mood of wonder with lushly melodic strings, punctuated by a motive played on woodblock (which returns in a more desperate, angry style near the end). Eventually the strings begin a desolate rustling with brass chords and an oboe solo as the pace of the music quickens, first imperceptibly, then sweeping us toward a final confrontation. It's all very much out of Sibelius's playbook — the 5th and 7th symphonies, in partiucular.

With so many obvious influences, Misterium Tremendum favors the familiar over the tremendous or the mystery — but like the Bruckner, the problem is as much the program as the music. At least this is a neatly constructed work, never dull or excessive. Kaulkin, a local composer considerably experienced in theater and film, used the full orchestra with good clarity and variety of sound.

Before intermission, the OEBS also presented Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 5 (in A major, K. 219) in which Terrie Baune, the orchestra's associate concertmaster, shook off some early unsteadiness to play beautifully in the Adagio and the Rondeau. Her tone was clear and sweet but never precious. Parkman led the orchestra in a fluent, assured account of the accompaniment. I wasn't familiar with Baune's cadenzas, but they were delightfully playful and ripe — pushing Mozart toward the 19th century, perhaps — especially in the second and third movements. Coming between the Bruckner and the Kaulkin, separating the exhilaration of the one and the feelings of dread in the other, the concerto was especially refreshing and satisfying.