Steve Reich festival review – Colin Currie and the Hallé ease into the groove | Classical music

Back in the 1980s, Steve Reich abandoned writing for symphony orchestra, disheartened by conductors and classical musicians who simply didn’t get his uniquely challenging vibe. The opening concert in the Hallé’s three-day Reich mini festival was a chance to hear both 1985’s The Desert Music – the work that broke the camel’s back, so to speak – and 2018’s Music for Ensemble and Orchestra, the octogenarian composer’s bounce-back piece, encouraged by a new generation brought up on his intricate rhythms and distinctive sound world.

Festival curator Colin Currie and four Hallé percussionists kicked off with a textbook account of Music for Pieces of Wood. Written in 1973, five sets of pitched wooden sticks clatter away like woodpeckers on speed. The taut concentration on the players’ faces gradually fell away as they eased into the groove, hypnotic patterns throwing up subtle variations as the piece hurtled to its rattling conclusion.

Music for Ensemble and Orchestra is perhaps Reich’s most purely beautiful work, a five-movement, unbroken arc that pits an ensemble of 20 soloists against the rest of the orchestra in the manner of a Baroque Concerto Grosso. Paired pianos and chiming vibraphones provide the engine as shimmering strings, frequently doubled by woodwind, flesh out Reich’s trademark timbres. Tightly corralled by Currie – a conductor with a percussionist’s instinct for meter – shimmering washes of sound and aching melodies coalesced in moments of iridescent splendour.

The Desert Music sets words by William Carlos Williams (the 16-year-old Reich was typically fascinated by the US poet’s palindromic moniker). Scored for titanic forces, Currie launched proceedings with a huge wodge of pulsating sound, driven by four pianists, two timpanists and a phalanx of mallet instruments. Although sheer volume occasionally smudged textures, technically this was a highly assured performance.

Leaner moments provided welcome relief, as when delicate dancing fiddles engaged in a fleeting hoedown. Meanwhile, the amplified 10-strong RNCM Chamber Choir coped magnificently with text that ranged from Greek-inspired idylls to oblique meditations on “the bomb”. Reich’s tug-of-love between the meaning of words and the sounds they make came over loud and clear in Currie’s deft blend of voices and orchestra.

Back in the 1980s, Steve Reich abandoned writing for symphony orchestra, disheartened by conductors and classical musicians who simply didn’t get his uniquely challenging vibe. The opening concert in the Hallé’s three-day Reich mini festival was a chance to hear both 1985’s The Desert Music – the work that broke the camel’s back, so to speak – and 2018’s Music for Ensemble and Orchestra, the octogenarian composer’s bounce-back piece, encouraged by a new generation brought up on his intricate rhythms and distinctive sound world.

Festival curator Colin Currie and four Hallé percussionists kicked off with a textbook account of Music for Pieces of Wood. Written in 1973, five sets of pitched wooden sticks clatter away like woodpeckers on speed. The taut concentration on the players’ faces gradually fell away as they eased into the groove, hypnotic patterns throwing up subtle variations as the piece hurtled to its rattling conclusion.

Music for Ensemble and Orchestra is perhaps Reich’s most purely beautiful work, a five-movement, unbroken arc that pits an ensemble of 20 soloists against the rest of the orchestra in the manner of a Baroque Concerto Grosso. Paired pianos and chiming vibraphones provide the engine as shimmering strings, frequently doubled by woodwind, flesh out Reich’s trademark timbres. Tightly corralled by Currie – a conductor with a percussionist’s instinct for meter – shimmering washes of sound and aching melodies coalesced in moments of iridescent splendour.

The Desert Music sets words by William Carlos Williams (the 16-year-old Reich was typically fascinated by the US poet’s palindromic moniker). Scored for titanic forces, Currie launched proceedings with a huge wodge of pulsating sound, driven by four pianists, two timpanists and a phalanx of mallet instruments. Although sheer volume occasionally smudged textures, technically this was a highly assured performance.

Leaner moments provided welcome relief, as when delicate dancing fiddles engaged in a fleeting hoedown. Meanwhile, the amplified 10-strong RNCM Chamber Choir coped magnificently with text that ranged from Greek-inspired idylls to oblique meditations on “the bomb”. Reich’s tug-of-love between the meaning of words and the sounds they make came over loud and clear in Currie’s deft blend of voices and orchestra.