The USC Symphony Orchestra began its Oct. 20 concert like it had a tiger named Capriccio espagnol by the tail. Sometimes this fine ensemble plays very close to the vest, seemingly unwilling to, as the sportscasters say, put it all on the line, perhaps dreading a mistake or criticism.

This night, however, they were raring to go from the get-go. The first splash of Rimsky-Korsakov’s dazzling orchestral color absolutely sparkled, heralding good things to come. Solos from violinist Micah Gangwer, flutist Nave Graham, clarinetist Brian Wilmer, and cellist Dusan Vukajlovic were clean, clear and virtuosic. Brass sound was balanced, focused and riveting: the horn quartet in the second movement warm and cuddly. Strings and woodwinds executed difficult passagework brilliantly, percussion adding its special smatterings of color. It was self-assured and quite properly rambunctious.

As was Russell Peck’s The Glory and the Grandeur. This is a one-movement whale-of-a piece for orchestra and three percussion soloists playing a zillion instruments. Peck was born in Greensboro, and his music stylistically fits into the era that sober, scholarly musicologists call the “fun” period of the 20th century. Peck admitted that, “I composed the piece intending the sight of the percussionists playing and moving among the many varied instruments to be part of the structure and appeal.”

“Playing and moving?” How about “ballet?” Martha Graham must have returned from the grave to choreograph this. Each percussionist elegantly swivel-hipped to the exact spot of the next instrument a millisecond before playing, armed with the perfect mallet or stick. The three soloists call themselves the Shiraz Trio, and include USC Associate Professor Scott Herring, and two teachers from The Ohio State University, Joseph Krygler and Susan Powell. As if the “G. and the G.” weren’t impressive enough, the Shiraz chimed in a marimba encore called Sculpture 3 by Rudiger Pawassar.

Please, no Australian wine jokes. These are serious masters of the mallets.

Maestro Donald Portnoy next led the orchestra in Alexander Borodin’s Second Symphony. It’s in B minor, and the word “lugubrious” usually comes to mind. But Portnoy and his forces were having none of that. They didn’t spare the horses, and like the Rimsky, kept everything lively and energetic. It was one of the most satisfying Borodin’s I’ve heard: brisk, tight ensemble, but nonetheless an immense, broad-shouldered orchestral sound. As if they had a big Russian bear by the tail.