Programme note

Three repeated notes, then a figure that follows the shape of the fingers on the keys: it must have felt very natural on the piano when Adrian first sketched the idea. The repeated notes are halting and their answer flowing, the two balancing perfectly to form the work’s main motif.

This idea will act like a central character, binding everything into a tautly constructed story. At first the folk-like harmonies suggest open fields and a bucolic setting. This soon gives way, though, to something more expressionist. The mood is less serene, more searching. By the time the main idea reaches the brass, sounding warm and generous in their low register, its second half has now expanded to give a full melody that will spread throughout the orchestra.

In a lighter episode, woodwind solos recall the main idea before ceding it to the strings, who are the work’s principle narrators. A quick build-up of tension leads to what in novella format would be the turning-point, a moment of conflict that reveals a new side to the characters.

Here, at the height of discord, it feels as if somebody in the plot is being betrayed, or killed. Or a storm is suddenly breaking. Or a tragedy has just befallen an unsuspecting community. We don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s dark and troubling.

The beauty of this work is that Adrian doesn’t feed us a set narrative. Rather like Sibelius’ ‘Fairy Tale’ (En Saga), the listener is invited to hear their own story in the music and have their own, unique emotional response.

Whatever story you choose, Adrian gives it a marked dramatic arch and ensures the characters are seen in different lights. The music is in a state of constant and often subtle flux, not finding repose until the very final bars.

Words by Jon James

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(extract perf. BBC Philharmonic Orchestra cond. Michael Seal)