If laughter is the best medicine, then the power of music to uplift the spirits cannot be far behind, especially when the music-making is imbued with such unadulterated joy. I doubt I’ve seen an orchestra have quite as much fun as the Västerås Sinfonietta last night at Kings Place. Presenting a programme entitled Wild Waves and Woods as part of the venue’s Nature Unwrapped series, it threw caution to the wind in exuberant accounts under Simon Crawford-Phillips that took us from the Isle of Staffa to Bohemian forests via the Carpathian Mountains.
Founded in 1883, the Västerås may be one of Sweden’s oldest orchestras, but there was nothing venerable or stuffy about its performances here, played with most of its members standing (timps, cellos and double basses seated). Birdcalls and the crash of waves on shingle before the concert, in Chris Watson’s sound calendar from The Wash, prepared the way for Mendelssohn’s own seascape, The Hebrides. The swell of the sea was dramatically shaped by the 20 strings, buffeted by bracing, bright trumpet tone. A dulcet clarinet duet offered a brief lull before a stormy conclusion.
Andrea Tarrodi’s Zephyros proved just as evocative. Composed in 2010, it was inspired by Dan Andersson’s poem Sång till Västanvinden (Song to the Wind of the West). It surged and dipped, the high string writing, flecked percussion and turbulent brass reminiscent of the vast horizons of Britten’s Peter Grimes, before fading to the gentlest breeze. More earthy matters bustled in with György Ligeti’s boisterous Concert Românesc, given a rollicking performance. Wind players, who swapped “principal” positions all evening, shared many grins with their desk partners, the pair of bearded bassoonists bobbing to the beat. Crawford-Phillips’ jagged conducting style drove home the Romanian dance rhythms, not dissimilar to Bartók’s folk music explorations.