Commissioned
by
London
Primavera Chamber Orchestra.
Concertante works for cello and strings are something
of a rarity. The Cello Concerto was written for Raphael Wallfisch and
the Primavera Chamber Orchestra, and it was premiered by these forces
at the Rye Festival in September 2002. Patterson connoisseurs will hardly
fail to compare the new work with his Violin Concerto of 10 years earlier,
not least because they share the same strings-only scoring. But it is
the differences between the two works which are most striking at a first
hearing. The Cello Concerto is a darker, weightier work than the more
freewheeling older sibling. Both make ample use of Patterson's unique
sense of humour, but the present work's wit is harder-edged, more driven.
It is in most senses a larger work than the Violin Concerto, both in
length and range of moods. Both works are in several movements linked
together in a single, continuous span, but while the Violin Concerto
has three movements, the Cello Concerto has just two, welded together
by a central Cadenza.
Just how far Patterson has moved from the earlier work's more open lyricism
can be gauged from the Cello Concerto's arctic opening, where time all
but stands still as the music very slowly comes to life. But it is not
long before pressure gradually increases until the accumulating tension
explodes in an enraged climactic outburst. A brief, fraught accompanied
cadenza finally restores some calm to the proceedings as the cello begins
its long journey, with the orchestra alternately standing motionlessly
by or shimmering around it. A solo violin briefly joins the soloist
in dialogue before the music reaches its point of arrival on a clear,
unencumbered G major triad. With the orchestra's glistening natural
harmonic glissandi swirling around it like a storm of fireflies, the
soloist sings its song in its simplest form, with the solo violin once
again joining in. The vision does not last long, however, and the music
retreats back into the frozen wasteland of the opening. A lengthy Cadenza
has the cello slowly clambering out of the darkness, gathering speed
and momentum until it finally bursts into the fast second movement where
the orchestra races away in no uncertain fashion and never looks back.
Throughout the movement the pace remains constant in its drive and momentum,
with the soloist and orchestra in ceaseless conversation all the way.
The cello breaks off in a second, shorter Cadenza near the end before
the music tears off for the finishing line: a D major triad as emphatic
as it is unambiguous.
Paul Pellay, 21 - 8 - 2002