Erkki-Sven Tüür’s new cello concerto opens with a mighty thrum and concludes with the orchestra dissolving magically into the ether. Subtitled Labyrinths of Life, it’s a typically colourful and occasionally brutal journey that wends its unbroken way through movements labelled Dark and Deep to attain an uneasy truce in a finale entitled Light.
The Estonian composer’s second cello concerto, a Philharmonia co-commission, was here receiving its UK premiere with its original soloist Nicolas Altstaedt. Complex and densely scored, it demands a virtuoso technique as the harried cellist ranges from the instrument’s snarling lowest register to the most perilous of heights. Calling for a substantial orchestra, including a skilfully deployed battery of exotic percussion, the work is an intricately balanced marriage of equals.
The Philharmonia, conducted with notable clarity by Tüür’s fellow countryman Paavo Järvi, was kept on its toes, fragmentary ideas ricocheting back and forth like musical bullets. Altstaedt’s sinewy tone was only occasionally lost in the orchestral swell. The cadenza, a physical tour de force, saw him striking and stroking the strings with bow and fingers, while slapping and tapping out a tattoo on the instrument’s body and neck.
A slightly lopsided programme coupled the 30-minute concerto with Stravinsky’s equally substantial Petrushka, while the totality of the second half comprised the same composer’s 23-minute Firebird Suite. Järvi, an old hand at both, adopted a precise, undemonstrative approach, knowing instinctively when to intervene and when to give the orchestra its head.
Petrushka, given here in the pared-back 1947 revision, was a little foursquare at first, but the orchestra soon loosened its stays, tossing off a string of whirling dances with ripely characterful solo contributions (the contrabassoon got an audible chuckle for a fabulously vulgar subterranean fart). Trumpet, bassoon and flute covered themselves in glory in flirtatious episodes between the Ballerina and the Moor.
The second half saw Järvi teasing out some breathtaking pianissimos. Skittering variations for The Firebird were followed by a wistful rondo for the enchanted princesses. Helter-skelter syncopations threatened to derail the Infernal Dance, but the players recovered, tumbling exhausted into a gossamer lullaby before rebuilding to an ecstatic apotheosis.
