And did they ever!

They sounded more like “the little orchestra that does steroids.” The brass section in particular, with French hornists Mirella Gable and James Rester along with trumpet stud Steven Franklin and guest trombonist Tom Pylinski packed such a wallop of a sound that Alex Jones, an occasional contributor who streams the concerts all the way to Texas, has insisted that Mr. Malina “is one hundred percent guilty” of having poached the entire brass section from the Chicago Symphony and then stuffed its members under the stage as part of a larger government conspiracy, the aims for which he has no idea whatsoever.

Mr. Jones insists nevertheless that there is still “something rotten in Denmark” going on here and promises “a full disclosure” to the nation “as soon as the incriminating details come to light.”

As Mr. Malina explained to the audience, the closing piece, Gustov Holst’s “The Planets,” is usually done with an orchestra of more than 100 players plus a female choir. The Sinfonietta, with its 20 regulars plus Mr. Pylinski, Sasha Tentser, their occasional pianist, and Mr. Malina’s son, Zev, who performed the female choir on a digital keyboard, had its work cut out for them. After all, we’re talking planets here. In the last four movements of this seven-movement work, we’re talking very BIG planets beginning with Jupiter.

Mr. Malina, meanwhile, couldn’t just stand there like some boob with a condensed score that said nothing more than, “Wave stick until music stops. Then turn around and bow.” These pieces had such sudden changes in meter, tempo and dynamics that he had to use ever changing baton motions to guide these highly capable players through the music as a skilled equestrian would guide his well-trained horse through an intricate show jumping course. A momentary lapse in concentration at a crucial meter change where the beat pattern may switch from, say, five beats per measure down to three, could cause a symphonic train wreck of epic proportion.

Nothing of the sort happened as the Sinfonietta Express rolled right along unabated to where it almost looked and sounded easy.

Meanwhile, up on the back wall a most eye catching celestial slide show took place thanks to the efforts of the Adirondack Sky Center in Tupper Lake. Such colorful visions of all these distant stars and planets could give the feeling you were cruising the galaxies at the helm aboard the Starship Enterprise.

The evening kicked off with a most delightful piece that got something fairly close to an instant Ving Rhames standing ovation. Composed by their own trumpet master, the aforementioned Mr. Franklin, the piece, titled “Adirondack Skies,” takes a look at four seasonal visions of the heavens that are set to music.

The music moves along at an energetic pace from one atmospheric condition to another that it never gets stale or dull. This piece might catch on and become the “Appalachian Spring” of the Adirondacks except that its origins are more honest.

Aaron Copland himself openly admitted that the Appalachian Mountains never entered his mind while he was composing “Appalachian Spring,” a piece that gushing fans have run up to him to say, “It perfectly captures the essence of the Appalachian Mountains!”

He wasn’t even the one who gave it the name. To him it was just some “song for Martha,” or Martha Graham who asked him to write something for her dance company to perform to.

With Mr. Franklin’s piece, however, “Adirondack Skies” is all about “Adirondack Skies.” It follows tonal traditions of melody and harmony, and it treats the trumpet player as just another member of the brass section as opposed to something surreptitiously designed to thrust the composer into his self-made spotlight.

Similar to Mr. Malina, Mr. Franklin handles the microphone well as he chats easily to the audience. It was refreshing to hear him conclude with, “I hope you enjoy this piece,” rather than give the audience a command such as, “Thank you and enjoy the piece (or else …).

Next time Mr. Franklin gets the pleasure of introducing his piece, he could improve the listening experience even more by making sure the audience understands there are no breaks between the movements, lest somebody’s happy mood should turn sour at the thought of having sat there listening for 15 or 20 minutes and then thinking, “Dang! This is a nice piece and all, but it sure has one heckuva long first movement!”

“The Planets,” meanwhile, did have a distinct break between all seven of its movements. While seated in the back row, it was disheartening to see people leave before the piece had concluded, especially when they couldn’t even wait for a break between the movements. Maybe that’s to be expected, unfortunately, if a concert runs close to 90 minutes without an intermission. (This one ran close to 100.) It is doubtful that such a gesture has anything to do with the quality of the music but more so with the difficulty of just staying seated for so long when you’re a certain age and older.

Overall, the 2022 season seemed to have been a triumphant one, and much closer to a normal one following the COVID-19 adventure. Some people still wore masks, which wasn’t a bad idea despite the occasional foggy glasses.

As mentioned at the end of the first season of providing coverage for these concerts eight years ago, it’s great seeing so many people come out to these, hang around at the reception outside for awhile, mingle with the musicians and just give this town another dimension.

It reminds this writer of all the people who come out to the village center in the historic Italian village of Siena seemingly every evening to do nothing more than just be out and together with friends and family.

“It’s so full of life!” a friend remarked.

For those who may feel this historic Olympic village caters to the needs of little more than nature freaks, schussboomers, Airbnb owners and pubescent hockey goons, there is always the Lake Placid Sinfonietta to prove otherwise and demonstrate how this area does have a commitment to the arts.