Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival review – ghostly echoes, gritty sounds and the rattle of milk froth | classical music

TFor starters, November may not seem like the ideal time to take a trip to Huddersfield. I arrived to find the Pennines under a thick blanket of cloud and the temperature approaching zero. So it’s also a good thing that music is largely an indoor activity: since 1978, autumn here has meant the annual influx of big names in experimental and avant-garde music for the Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival. Once a magnet for post-war stars including Karlheinz Stockhausen, Olivier Messiaen and John Cage, the HCMF is now the UK’s largest international festival dedicated to new music, with more than 30 world and British premieres on this year’s programme.

Opening night included three. At Huddersfield Town Hall, London-based band Explore Ensemble sat amidst a bank of floodlights as the gorgeous Victorian space became intimate. A new version of Canon Mensurabilis by Lithuanian composer Rytis Mažulis saw repeated flashes of microtonal dissonance interrupted by sparse octaves and fifths. The amazing precision of the performance blurred the line between the acoustic sound and the electronic track that gradually dominated. Bryn Harrison’s “The Ghost… Always a Picture of What’s to Come” had a more convincing magical effect. Opening with what sounded like a screeching swing recorded for a chamber ensemble, shards of sonic material were followed by ghostly echoes on a pre-recorded electronic track. There were beautiful details – jagged shivers of violin vibrato, clarinet flutters, pedal-washed piano turns – but the final payoff of the work came in its longest arc. The feedback loop gradually reversed so that the musicians responded to their electronic counterparts – the process of chasing was complete and utterly compelling.

The late-night concert saw revered French band Dedalus Ensemble perform the UK premiere of Motor Tapes by this year’s HCMF Composer in Residence Sarah Haines. A skillfully weighted drum roll launched an hour-long exploration of rhythm and timbre inspired by the study of human brain activity. An array of odd effects – knuckle thumps, mouth-crunching, metal-on-metal cracks – were gently distributed across the set. The lengthy sequence in which the musicians applied milk foam to various surfaces looked like they were in a room full of miniature jackhammers. By the time the piece ended with rapid switches between the muted grinding of plastic, the shaking of keys, and the rattle of branches—the deathly ringing sound of an audience member digging through his bag—several people around me had nodded off.

Sampling the range of what might be considered “new music” is of course one of the pleasures of HCMF. Ninety this year, with albums of his music regularly appearing in the classical charts, Estonian composer Arvo Pärt is hardly a pioneer. But the Carice Singers’ performance of his song Sarah Was Ninety on the lunchtime program was a welcome reminder of Bart’s audacity. Using only four layers, three voices, a percussionist and an organ, the piece repeatedly enters silence – conducted with absolute calm by conductor George Barris. Where Pärt demanded gritty solos, the UK premiere of Žibuoklė Martinaitytė Aletheia showcased the clear, full sound and precise blend of what has become one of the UK’s most adventurous and accomplished choirs.