The exuberance of imagination (and fiendishly difficult 
          writing) noted on the disc, ‘Life Story,’ 
          CDZ5 69699-2 is continued on the present offering. The five pieces make 
          for a well-contrasted programme presented by some of the finest artists 
          active in the UK at the moment. 
        
Appropriately, Living Toys is performed by the 
          London Sinfonietta, a group that positively thrives on challenge. It 
          was written in 1993 for this very group. The idea that generated it 
          came from an anonymous Spanish source, which talks of a child’s dreams, 
          and how these dreams make the adults who hear them realise ‘that their 
          lives were less substantial than the dreams that surrounded [the child] 
          like toys’. Adès takes the listener to a charged, somewhat dark 
          place with his music, characteristic registral extremes vying with sonorities 
          almost beyond the reach of the forces employed. 
        
Arcadiana, (Adès’ first string quartet) 
          provides the perfect textural contrast. It was written in 1994 for the 
          Endellion String Quartet, who perform it here. It has a wide, almost 
          virtuoso, frame of reference, taking in Papageno’s silver bells, the 
          figuration of Schubert’s ‘Auf dem Wasser zu singen’ and a homage to 
          ‘Nimrod’ in tender, Elgarian delicacy. The final, still evocation of 
          ‘Lethe’ is an effective, emotive way to close the piece. 
        
Adès has stated that, ‘My ideal day would be 
          staying at home and playing the harpsichord works of Couperin – new 
          inspiration on every page’. Perhaps that is what Adès aspires 
          to himself, and the result, Sonata da caccia (1994), is a fascinating 
          take on older forms. The first movement, ‘Gravement’, is disembodied, 
          like a modern ghost. There are many moments that may easily be described 
          as ‘sweet’, not a word often used in reference to Adès and a 
          reflection of the affectionate nature of this tribute. The performance 
          is superb. Perhaps, if forced to select one of the musicians for special 
          praise, it would be Michael Niesemann’s superbly articulated baroque 
          oboe. It makes the perfect foil to The Origin of the Harp (1994), 
          a dark, dramatic chamber tone-poem for trios of clarinets, violas and 
          cellos with percussion. 
        
Gefriolsae Me, which closes the disc, is a slow-moving 
          anthem written for King’s College Choir in 1990. It takes its text from 
          Psalm 51 (‘Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, o God, thou God of my salvation’). 
          It is predominantly dark and makes a haunting, doubting conclusion to 
          a thought-provoking disc. Adès’ music repays repeated listening, 
          and performances like this give one the perfect opportunity to give 
          this music the consideration it is due. 
         
        
 
        
 
        
Colin Clarke