Al Farabi Concerto is a showcase series of concerts in which new pieces written by Arabic composers who work predominantly in the Western classical tradition, are performed alongside recent compositions from their Western peers.
The third concert in the series took place on Monday night at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. It featured the London Sinfonietta, conducted by Diego Masson in typically impressive form, in UK premieres of recent works from Palestine, Morocco, and Egypt, with three modern English works filling out the programme.
Each of the three Eastern works impressed, but they did so in very different ways. The opening piece, Samir Odeh-Tamimi's Hutáf Al-Arwáh, was a strong and concentrated exploration of broad panels of sound, each forthrightly scored with an eye to the physical weight of the effect. It was given a muscular reading by the ensemble, with Masson drawing flint from the low strings and brass. Amr Okba's The Message was a powerfully relentless exploration of the highest natural harmonics available on violin (two violinists took part) and cello. This was one of the most interesting works of the evening; the thin frequencies slid into thrusting glissandi made of the 'artificial' harmonic sounds Sciarrino utilises in his Sei Capricci, in a blazing loop of colour. An offstage muted trumpet and then hidden piano suddenly broadened out the sound towards the end of the piece, and the composer's glorious and commanding play with sounds was complete.
Whilst neither of the above pieces displayed any fundamental affinity with Arabic music, Ahmed Essyad's Voix interdites (Forbidden Voices), a cycle (of three songs and instrumental interludes, of which we only heard the songs) about pain and sadness based on Sufi poetry from the tenth century, makes explicit the syncretic impulse that drives the composer. Whilst the style is generally Western, Arabic language, subject matter, and music are all vital to the aesthetic. The first song for instance rests upon a plucked cello and bass accompaniment that is unmistakably redolent of an oud, whilst the ardent and passionate singing of Patricia Rozario (whose voice, strangely submerged sounding as it, is one of the most beguiling and sensuous I've heard) continuously brought to mind the devotional passion of Sufi musicianship, particularly in the anguished third song. The performance of this moving and mysterious work was measured and full of character in the instrumental septet, and the narrator who introduced each song, Nadim Sawalha, proved a powerful host.
The three British works were more familiar. Tansy Davies' Iris is an impressive piece that makes great play out of skittering, repetitive figures, rich and dense scoring, and Davies' idiosyncratic stylistic overload. It takes in everything from Afrobeat-like ostinatos on bass (albeit in hyper-funk mode) and pattering drum refrains in cyclical patterns, to passages of direct pastiche, in this case of swinging (off the rails) Dixieland jazz. Yet these external signifiers never weigh down the flow of the work as they sometimes do in music from Gander or others working in this vein; the roundabout of material comes off as witty and wise. The skilful writing and committed and energetic (not to mention intelligently detailed) performance, particularly from Simon Haram on solo saxophone, made for a compelling fifteen or so minutes.
Simon Holt's Lilith, a menacing work that is tightly constructed out of expressionistic gestures and fascinating instrumental detail, was given a forceful and firm performance from Masson and his players, who confidently attacked Holt's wicked depiction of the serpent Lilith. Concluding the concert was Maxwell Davies' shimmering A Mirror of Whitening Light. This is a polished and luminescent work that makes wonderful and creative use of tone-colour and space in the scoring. Masson ensured that all the rich detail of the writing was brought out. He guided the Sinfonietta to a burnishing climax where the whitening of the title transfigured the auditorium in sheets of brilliant sound.