A booster shot of sunlight: Unsuk Chin’s new violin concerto reviewed

Sir Simon Rattle and the London Symphony Orchestra began the year with a world première. Unsuk Chin’s Second Violin Concerto opened with the soloist, Leonidas Kavakos, completely alone in front of a silent orchestra, playing phrases that rocked back and forth until, suddenly, they were striking sparks. As well they might; Kavakos, after all, is the reason that the concerto exists — the violinist whose ‘burningly intense’ (the composer’s words) artistry has prompted Chin to break her self-imposed rule of writing only one concerto for any given instrument. She explained in the programme notes that ‘the solo violin part forms the foundation of the whole score, the soloist triggering all of the orchestra’s actions and impulses.’

Well, composers say a lot of things. The modern composer-written programme note is a curious sub-genre; you’re not doing it right unless you’re talking about ‘motivic proto-cells’ or ‘ritual-like repetitive pulsations’ (and the concerto’s title, Scherben der Stille — ‘Shards of Silence’ — doesn’t really get us much further). The point — and it’s rare enough to deserve comment — is that Chin’s concerto actually does what she says it does. Kavakos is front and centre, and he’s a violinist who sounds (it’s been said, but it’s still true) like a Greek god: the genuine, old-school virtuoso article, lustrous, muscular and glistening with vibrato. Even pianissimo, there’s never much chance that Kavakos isn’t going to come soaring through. It’s the kind of sound upon which a composer really can balance a whole orchestra.

Which is just as well, because Chin’s orchestra is large — augmented low brass, plus the full kitchen cupboard of tuned percussion and keyboards. Chin is a supreme colourist; her experience in electronic music prompts her to think differently about orchestral sound.