I composed the Eighth symphony at the suggestion of my good friend Olari Elts; it was commissioned by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra. Considering the instrumentation of the orchestra (double woodwinds, 2 trumpets, two French horns, one percussionist and strings) it almost seems like a chamber symphony. Indeed, there are several chamber-like passages, but the intense tectonic shifts between sound masses are equally important. Thus, I simply added it to the list of my symphonies without granting it a separate “chamber symphony” status.

One of the ideas guiding the internal psychological development logic of this symphony might be the creation of structure and then bringing it to life. In other words, the initially dominating objective and detached observation gradually grows more subjective and, hopefully, involved and passionate.

As for musical form, the 8^th symphony is divided into three movements, all of them performed attacca.

The key motif (1-1-1) X, which forms the foundation for musical development throughout the composition, consists of three ascending minor second intervals with a “knocking” rhythm. This is followed by a micro-polyphonic “sound cloud”, Y based on the same intervals, which is interrupted by the next “knocking”. These two elements are similar in terms of intervals, but opposites in terms of character and rhythm, evolving into contrasting realms of sound. Everything that ensues is an alternation of focus between X and Y. The first movement, in turn, consists of three parts. The first part is fast, intense, and plays with shifts in various types of texture. The interval range gradually expands, introducing the major second, then the minor third, major third, etc. (1—2—3—4 etc). This so-called “expansion” also becomes a key principle for the development of linear processes throughout the whole symphony. The second part of the first movement is chamber-like music enriched with several intertwining solo passages. This zooms in on the world represented by Y. The third part returns to the motifs originating from X, but much more fiercely.

The 2^nd movement begins with a complete standstill, while taking the developments of Y under even greater scrutiny. Unlike the beginning of the 1^st movement, this section is dominated by descending elements. The initially frozen world begins to “warm up” slowly; at some point, the melodic line that evolves from yet another intervallic expansion starts to resemble archaic Estonian folk songs.

The 3^rd movement presents somewhat surreal (dance-like!) surprises that culminate into co-functionality between X and Y, whereas the three-note motifs performed by strings have undergone a tremendous expansion compared to their starting point.

The constant sense of “being on the road”, organic development and fluidity is crucial for this music. Taking note of the brief description above is optional, not obligatory. Trust your intuition, sharpen your attention and let the energy springing from the music speak to you. The best approach I can recommend is prejudice-free listening. Thus, everyone can create their very own unique story while listening to this music.

Erkki-Sven Tüür

(Translation from Estonian Pirjo Püvi)

Scottish Chamber Orchestra, cond. Olari Elts

April 30. 2010  City Halls, Glasgow

May 1. 2010    Queen's Hall, Edinburgh

(---)Estonian conductor Olari Elts had a clear affinity for the soundworld which dominated the premiere of Symphony No 8 by his friend and composer Erkki-Sven Tuur. For his latest work, Tuur drew on a colour palette as psychedelic as the Northern Lights, using a dazzling array of effects as well as an exotic line-up of percussion instruments to conjure up images of restless encounters with nature. (---)

The Scotsman, May 4. 2010  Susan Nickalls

(---) There was much to admire in the symphony. The woodwind writing was fantastic, especially of a critical element in the music which kept returning: a slithering motif that was like water running over a smooth rock. The crunchy rhythms and accents of the first movement had a knockout effect. The slow movement was deep down and atmospheric; and the elusive dance rhythms of the finale aspired to a surreal waltz. (---)

The Herald, May 3. 2010  Michael Tumelty

(---) The symphony, written in four continuous movements, juxtaposes bold blocks of orchestral colour, sonority seemingly taking precedence over musical development. Tüür's use of the orchestra is imaginative, but it wasn't clear that the piece had enough substance to justify its length. (---)

The Guardian. May 6. 2010  Rowena Smith

A few years ago, Paavo Järvi proposed that I write a large-scale orchestral piece, which would also involve a choir. I agreed instantly – I had never tried the “choral symphony” genre before. Developing the general concept and architecture of form, however, was considerably more time-consuming. I wanted the orchestra to perform the intense developments and the choir to present isolated passages as if from “another reality”, remaining transparent, brief, aphoristic. I compiled the lyrics from quotes from different historical eras and cultural backgrounds authored by more or less famous persons and ranging from Buddha to Jimi Hendrix. And yet, when I read those lines as a uniform text corps, it seemed that they might well have been written by a single person. The unifying keywords are “compassion” and “love”. This also inspired the subtitle of the symphony, “Pietas”, which broadly means compassion in Latin. 

(The term “pietas” has so many nuances that it would be difficult to provide a single translation, but its essence could be something like “pious duty towards fellow men” that would definitely include compassion and pain. This word encompassed a certain deep human tenderness in Antique Rome where it was used to designate the relationship between parents and children, the living and the dead, people and gods, as well as in Latin Christianity, where “pietas” involves the same associations, but is usually translated simply as “piety” or “devoutness”  (Marju Lepajõe, Faculty of Theology, Tartu University))

In broad terms the whole symphony comprises four “waves”, each one longer than the previous. The first wave is dominated by a cold and brilliant texture inspired by micro-polyphonic techniques, performed mainly by woodwind instruments, Glockenspiel and a vibraphone. The texture is imbued by “pillars of chords” that seemingly halt the flow of musical time. In addition to woodwind instruments, they are mainly played by strings; the next “pillars of chords” also include brass instruments. In a musical sense the entire ensuing development occurs as a result of the “friction” between these contrasting texture elements.

After the first choir lines (We are what we think...) begins the second, much more intense wave. The final line of the choir segment that follows the second wave (an eye for an eye...) inspired the character of the third wave and its slowly growing aggressiveness. With a slight simplification, I may say that it is a sort of psychological–musical portrait of a world without love and all that entails. It is unavoidable that once a text is used, even if only minimally, it starts to create meanings for an otherwise abstract musical material. In the traditional “symphonic-semantic” meaning the third wave is the Scherzo movement. 

The next, most extensive choir passage is introspective and smoothly develops into the fourth wave that then forms the final culmination.

I composed this music pursuant to the principles of the self-designed vectorial method, which I adopted since writing “Oxymoron” in 2003. In the seventh symphony the principle key code is 1-2-4-2-1.

The seventh symphony “Pietas” is dedicated to Tenzin Gyatso and his lifelong endeavours.

Erkki-Sven Tüür

(translation Pirjo Püvi)

Magdeburgische Philharmonie, cond. Anu Tali. 28.01.2010. Opernhaus, Magdeburg.

(---) Im Sinfoniekonzert debütierte die Magdeburgische Philharmonie als erstes deutsches Orchester mit der eigens Anu Tali gewidmeten Sinfonie Nr. 6 " Strata " ihres Landsmannes Erkki-Sven Tüür. Ein mächtiges energetisches Werk, voller musikalischer Veränderungen und Instrumentationsgeheimnisse, auf die es lohnte, sich einzulassen. 

Bei verwischenden Rhythmen, wirbelndem Auf und Ab und interessant eingesetzter Instrumentationstechnik entdeckte man spannende Klangwelten zwischen ineinander kullernden Bläsern, Flageolettschleiftönen der Streicher, einem Duett von Harfe und Klavier, auch klaren Celli- und Bratschen-Themen, einem effektvoll flirrenden Tonbandeinspiel und den Möglichkeiten des Instrumentariums von fünf Schlagwerkern. Anu Tali entschied sich hier für ein hilfreiches geradliniges, fast schulmeisterliches Dirigat. (---)

Volksstimme.de   Ulrike Löhr

Kennedy Center Concert Hall, Washington DC  10. 06. 2010

The National Symphony Orchestra, cond. Kristjan Järvi

The National Symphony Orchestra has two more serious programs this month before surrendering completely to the pops concerts of summer. On one of those programs Thursday night, Estonian talent was on full display.

Guest conductor Kristjan Järvi led a concert anchored on the complex fourth symphony of Erkki-Sven Tüür, who also hails from Järvi's native Estonia.

The work, completed in 2002, began as a concerto commission for Scottish percussion virtuosa Evelyn Glennie but evolved into a one-movement symphonic work with solo percussionist. Glennie, who has been profoundly deaf since age 12, performs in these concerts at the Kennedy Center as part of the 2010 International VSA Festival, sponsored by the International Organization on Arts and Disability.

The opening theme evoked the symphony's subtitle, "Magma," as glissandi spewed through the orchestra over an eructating pedal tone in the contrabassoon. Glowing clusters formed in smears, with embers floating in high woodwind short notes and metallic percussion sparks.

Glennie moved from one set of instruments to the next spread out like an irresistible candy store of whiz-pops, doodads and noisemakers on the apron of the stage, marked off by three large musical sections. Her gyrations at a large drum kit in the second section recalled Tüür's youthful participation in the progressive "chamber rock" band In Spe, complete with a Buddy Rich-style apoplectic solo as a cadenza.

In the third section, the magma flows returned, only for the score to take a detour through a Caribbean-inflected dance, with Glennie on conga drums, culminating in a finale in which she returned to many of the previous instruments.

Järvi had a relaxed manner, preferring playful gestures, broad body movements and humorous looks to a strictly clear beat. (---)

The Washington Post  June 11, 2010. Charles Downey

Performing Arts Center, Newark   USA premiere 10. 10. 2008

New Jersey Symphony Orchestra, cond. Neeme Järvi


NJSO comes through with flying colors

It's always heartening to see difficult things done just the right way, as the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra did in Newark and New Brunswick this weekend. The NJSO presented new music -- typically a challenge in the classical realm -- not dutifully or dryly, but with pizzazz and a sense of occasion.

Of course, it helped that the music itself -- Erkki-Sven Tuur's Symphony No. 4 "Magma" -- was intriguing and outgoing, both minimalist and maximalist in the Estonian composer's rock- and jazz-influenced way. And it was the Scottish Evelyn Glennie, the world's top classical percussionist, playing the work's concerto-like solo role. Neeme Järvi was back as conductor, too, starting his final season as NJSO music director by continuing to promote the music of his native country. But there were other touches that framed the music ideally, such as the atmospheric lighting.

In such a visual age, it's odd that this isn't done more often, but the NJSO put the house lights down, the players' music stands lit by lamps. Glennie's exotic battery of instruments -- from vibraphone and marimba to trap drums and gongs, even a big metal spring -- was arrayed in four stations in front of the orchestra and illuminated from below with red and purple lights. As rock bands discovered ages ago, the effect made for a fuller, more concentrated sensory experience.
Tuur, who turns 49 this week, didn't just fly in to take a bow at the NJSO's North American premiere of his work. He was in the state for the week, sitting in on rehearsals and giving seminars for young composers and percussionists. Tuur and Glennie, 43, also engaged with the audience at post-concert chats. The New Jersey Performing Arts Center was less than half full on Friday, mystifyingly; it was encouraging, though, that dozens of listeners stayed to ask about the soloist's instruments and the composer's inspiration.

Glennie, made a dame commander of the British empire last year, is a natural communicator, charming the crowd with her Scottish burr as she talked about the ergonomics of beating on things for a living (she avoids practicing too much). The bookish Tuur praised the sound of the orchestra and the way "the panorama of colors" mixed in the hall. He also explained how he searched car-repair shops to find just the right spring for the aural effect he envisioned, finding that those from "Opels sound best."

All about flow and color, "Magma" is also a kind of instrumental theater (and so it came across better in the flesh than it did on the recording released last year featuring Glennie and Järvi's eldest conducting son, Paavo). Watching Glennie play -- even striking a woodblock or fingering a chime as she walked from one percussion station to another -- is fascinating in and of itself, as well as inspiring. Famously, she is deaf, playing barefoot to better feel the vibrations of the orchestra and having to keep a close eye simultaneously on the conductor, the score and her instruments.

Tuur's percussion writing is never square or clattering, the rock and jazz influences not too blatant. Glennie showed her incredible sense of time and texture as the sounds moved from the metallic to the woody and back again, including a backbeat-driven solo cadenza on the drum kit. A highlight of the piece was the beautiful passage for five-octave marimba, mellifluous over dark glissandi and long sustained notes in the strings. The end was striking, as a flourish on vibraphone rang out as if charged by electricity, eventually falling away under a last stroke of the chimes. (---)

The Star-Ledger  October 12, 2008, Bradley Bambarger

Alte Oper, Frankfurt. 06. 09.  2007. hr-Sinfonieorchester, Evelyn Glennie, Paavo Järvi.

(---) Tüürs Musik zeigt unter anderem, warum die Endlosdebatte um Programm- und absolute Musik zu Ende ist: Die Themenstellungen haben sich verschoben. "Magma" kann einerseits als Programmmusik aufgefasst werden, in der das Fließen von Energieströmen (inklusive einiger Eruptions- und Versteinerungs-Effekte) mehrschichtig dargestellt ist, andererseits als eine Erprobung der Tragfähigkeit und Bruchsicherheit der sinfonischen Form.

Die Position der Solistin
Vor allem für den letzteren Test ist Evelyn Glennie zuständig, die Solistin am Schlagwerk. Sie ist, wie bei einem Solokonzert, vor dem Orchester positioniert, andererseits ist ihr Part viel stärker als integrierter Teil des orchestralen Gesamtklangs konzipiert, als die solistische Position vermuten ließe.

Tüür hat seiner Sinfonie ein traditionsbewusst vierteiliges Formschema zugrunde gelegt. Allerdings sind die vier Sätze nicht mit Generalpausen abgesetzt, sondern gehen ineinander über. Nur die Solistin ist verantwortlich für die Markierung der Umschaltpunkte. Der erste Satz ist durch einen metallischen Instrumentenpark charakterisiert; im zweiten Satz sitzt sie an einem klassischen Drumset, wie man ihn in der Rockmusik verwendet (wobei wenig Tomtoms und Bassdrum kaum eingesetzt werden); der dritte (langsame) Satz gehört dem Holz (Marimbaphon, Woodblocks), der vierte wird von Congas bestimmt und bekommt eine entsprechend tänzerische Anmutung.

Keineswegs ist es der Parameter Rhythmus, der den Gang der Dinge in Tüürs Sinfonie dominiert, das Schlagwerk wird eher zur Erzeugung, Verstärkung oder Überhöhung von Klangfarben eingesetzt; die rhythmische Erscheinungsweise ist eher unvermeidliches Begleitphänomen; über längere Passagen haben die Geigen mindestens genau so profiliert ihren Anteil an den rhythmischen Aufgaben wie das Schlagwerk.

Evelyn Glennie ist eine raumgreifende Feinmotorikerin: unwiderstehlich und omnipräsent, ohne brachial zu wirken; expressiv, ohne Präzision vermissen zu lassen; dynamisch von traumsicherer Differenziertheit und bei aller Bühnenpräsenz immer fugenlos ins Gesamtbild integriert. Man kann sich sehr gut vorstellen, dass es ihre individuelle Spielweise war, die Tüür angeregt hat, ihr diese Schlagwerksinfonie geradezu auf den Leib zu schreiben. (---)

Frankfurter Rundschau.  08. 09. 2007  Hans-Jürgen Linke

Paavo Järvi dirigiert Erkki-Sven Tüürs "Magma" FRANKFURT. Der Begriff "Magma" könnte auch auf Programm-Musik verweisen. Doch er scheint ein treffend gewählter Titel für die vierte Sinfonie des estnischen Komponisten Erkki-Sven Tüür. Denn das 2002 konzipierte, bei einem Beitrag des hr-Sinfonieorchesters unterder Leitung seines Chefdirigenten Paavo Järvi zum "Auftakt"-Festival der Alten Oper gespielte Werk ist dadurch charakterisiert, dassTüürs Gespür für spannungsreiche Kontraste, ein Kennzeichen seinesPersonalstils, in ein Klangfluss-Kontinuum eingebunden wird, das ungeachtet zahlreicher Perkussionselemente den Eindruck von Flächigkeit hinterlässt. Tüürs Sinfonie ist eine Musik für umfangreichesSolo-Schlagzeug und Orchester und wurde der vorzüglichen Musikerin Evelyn Glennie sozusagen auf den Leib geschrieben. Die Solistin zeichnet sich durcheine zuweilen atemberaubende Behendigkeit spielerischer Aktionen, aber auchdurch eine differenzierte Geschmeidigkeit ihrer Technik aus. Beides steht in Tüürs Opus immer wieder im Mittelpunkt. Dennoch ist es keinSchlagzeugkonzert mit Orchesterbegleitung geworden. Die Solistin scheintvielmehr eingebunden in einen Prozess der Verflüssigung, Erstarrung, Verschmelzung, Verzweigung. Die pausenlos gespielten vier Abschnitte einer sinfonischen Form sind akustisch deutlich auszumachen,optisch zudem nicht minder eindeutig, weil Evelyn Glennie in jedem Abschnitt die Position für ihr jeweils unterschiedliches Instrumentariumwechseln muss. Dass der Komponist in jungen Jahren eine Rockgruppegeleitet hat, scheint in einem scherzoartigen Formteil seiner Sinfonie durch. Die Solistin traktiert hier ein "normales" Drumset aufabenteuerlich virtuose Weise. Sobald sie über die Bühne zur Marimbaschreitet, beginnt der vorletzte Abschnitt. Hier kommt die Musik erstmals zur Ruhe. Am Ende wird thematisch ein Bogen zum Beginn geschlagen. Das Werkklingt unspektakulär aus, ist aber dennoch ein facettenreiches,emotional packendes, in mancher Hinsicht polystilistisches und doch eigenständiges Musikstück. Nicht nur Evelyn Glennie erhielt für ihreexorbitante Leistung überaus herzlichen Beifall, auch der anwesendeKomponist wurde freudig begrüßt. (---)

Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung   Harald Budweg

(---) In Frankfurts Konzerthaus ist Tüür aber schon längst kein Unbekannter mehr. 1999 wurde vom hr-Sinfonieorchester unter Hugh Wolffs Leitung Tüürs Violinkonzert uraufgeführt, im November 2006 dirigierte Järvi die Uraufführung seines Klavierkonzerts, dem die Affinität des Komponisten zum Schlagwerk ebenfalls anzuhören ist.
Erkki-Sven Tüürs 4. Sinfonie "Magma" nun ist eigentlich ein Schlagzeug-Konzert mit sinfonischem Anspruch, ein sinfonisches Konzert. Die Schlagzeugerin Evelyn Glennie hat es angeregt und ist auch, wie berichtet, auf der aktuellen EMI-Einspielung mit dem Nationalen Sinfonieorchester Estlands unter Paavo Järvis Leitung zu hören. Im Live-Erlebnis wird noch deutlicher, dass diese Schlagzeugerin eine wahre Schlagzauberin ist: Am einigermaßen magisch illuminierten Riesen-Schlagzeug, das vor dem Orchester positioniert ist, wandelt sie von Instrumentengruppe zu Instrumentengruppe. Jedem der vier Abschnitte von Tüürs 4. Sinfonie ist nämlich ein dominanter Klangcharakter zugeordnet, und Evelyn Glennie beschwört metallischen und hölzernen Sound mit traumwandlerischer Sicherheit und choreografischer Anmut. Im Werk selbst sind spannungsvolle Kontraste zwischen gewaltiger Eruption und Passagen kammermusikalischer Auflichtung konstitutiv. Die Rettung des Zeitgenössischen aus dem Geist von Rock und Pop, die man da hören mag, klingt manchmal (etwa im Dialog mit der süßlichen Solovioline) so entwaffnend schlicht, dass man seinen Ohren kaum traut. Die magmatischen, beunruhigenden Klangströme im Orchester sind aber stärker als tonale Idyllen. Der vierte Abschnitt, den die Congas einleiten, müsste in seiner lustvollen Rhythmik fabelhaft zu vertanzen sein.
Wagners "Meistersinger"-Ouvertüre hatte das Konzert in straffer Klangprachtentfaltung eröffnet - und bildete mit der 1. Sinfonie c-Moll von Johannes Brahms und ihrem apotheotischen, glänzend gespielten Finale eine festliche-üppige Rahmung, einen Goldrahmen für Tüürs Opus. Järvi und Evelyn Glennie signierten nach dem Konzert ihre neue Tüür-CD. Das Gedränge am Verkaufstisch ließ darauf schließen, dass das Werk in Frankfurt einige neue Freunde findet.

Wiesbadener Kurier  08.09. 2007   Volker Milch

Barbican Hall, London. February 24, 2005

BBC Symphony Orchestra, Paavo Järvi  

This concert began with the London premiere of Erkki-Sven Tüür's nine-minute masterpiece Aditus (2000, rev. 2002). The title Aditus ('approach, entrance, access') alludes to the work's conflicting forces and contrasting sensations that collide and retreat in rising, sinking, swirling movements striving for survival and escaping burial. The work is dedicated to the composer's friend and teacher Lepo Sumera (who died in 2000) "as a celebration of a great man."

Listening to Aditus for the first time I was struck by its originality of voice: Tüür is arguably one the finest composers alive today and yet does not come across as sounding 'contemporary' in the conventional sense of that term. Tüür's Aditus sounded archaically classical yet thoroughly modern at the same time, but without sounding ever like post-modern pastiche (---)  Tüür is a master of composition, a genius of autonomy, sounding unique yet also magnificently assimilative, coming to grips with the anxiety of influence with great aplomb, with traces of Schoenberg's Pelleas & Melisande and Strauss's Death & Transfiguration seeping through. The shimmering score of Aditus is rich, lush, voluptuous and violent, bursting at the seams - as if wanting to escape its angst-ridden self. Tüür is a brilliant orchestral virtuoso the likes of which we have not seen since Wagner and Strauss. The composer was there to share the enthusiastic applause with conductor and orchestra, who performed his complex masterpiece with great verve and virtuosity. 

http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2005/Jan-Jun05/j%E4rvi2402.htm

Alex Russell 

CONFIDENCE and command, exultation at music’s power: you felt these at almost every turn in this concert. They were there in every sweep of Paavo Järvi’s baton and left arm; in each department of the BBC Symphony Orchestra, in the sombre beauty of Truls Mørk’s cello. And don’t forget the composers’ richness of thought and design, especially with Nielsen and the contemporary Estonian Erkki-Sven Tüür encountered on top form. Tüür’s Aditus gave us nine meaty minutes of brilliantly individual, chiselled sounds, marked by contrary motions, motifs and textures, and steps climbing to Heaven or descending to the grave — destinations fitting for a piece dedicated to the composer’s late teacher, Lepo Sumera. Finished in 2000, revised two years later, this fizzing account was its London premiere; considering its marvels, not a day too late.  

The Times. February 26, 2005

Geoff Brown 

Cincinnati Music Hall. Oct. 21, 2004.

Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, cond. Paavo Järvi 

Some people surf waves breaking onto the shore. Thursday night's Cincinnati Symphony audience got to do that at Music Hall. Via Estonian composer Erkki-Sven Tüür's "Aditus," that is. The thunder in Tüür's seven-minute work, given its CSO premiere by music director Paavo Järvi, does suggest the elemental force of the sea ("as if you were being swallowed up by a huge wave," says Järvi). So do its frequent scale-wise passages and piling up of notes. Four percussionists on tubular bells, tam-tam, bass drum, suspended cymbal, wood blocks, tom-toms and vibraphone joined a huge CSO in a mix of swirls and eddies that furthered the analogy.

Other images came to mind, too, such as combat and "bombs bursting in air." However one hears it, with its grumbling winds, hissing cymbal, trombone and string glissandi and at one point, a vast rumbling low C, it's a powerful work. Thursday's audience seemed caught in the undertow. It should be a potent offering on the CSO's tour of Europe.

The program included two other works to be heard on the tour, Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 4 with pianist Helene Grimaud and Dvorak's Symphony No. 7. (---) 

Cincinnati Post. Oct. 22, 2004.

Mary Ellyn Hutton

Symphony Hall, Birmingham. 26. 10. 1999  City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra
cond. Paavo Järvi.  World Premiere


(---) Tuur is one of a number of distinctive new voices to have emerged from the Baltic states since perestroika, though until now his orchestral music has been best known here through recordings. Largely self-taught, he ran a rock band in Estonia in his 20s, while also studying composition at the Tallinn Academy, and his music seems the product of a mind not over bothered by the dogmas of style and language. It's dense, highly wrought stuff, which nevertheless carries quite a big emotional charge, and the Birmingham audience (a surprisingly small one, given that the second half of the programme was Mahler's Sixth Symphony) responded very positively to the superbly executed premiere.
Each life, taken separately, is an exodus, Tuur says, and his piece is "a composer's subjective sound image of a force that can defeat the undeniable". With or without that extra-musical background, it is still a hugely impressive achievement, packing a great deal into its 17-minute span, which maintains a constant pulsing until the very last few moments. But Exodus isn't at all a minimalist score - the busy figuration is constantly cross-cut with other rhythms and melodic profiles picked out against it, gradually accumulating momentum and tension, until it all explodes in a massive climax to which a drum-kit adds an anarchic edge. After that the textures thin, the motion calms down and only melodic fragments remain; a lonely Shostakovich-like melody wanders aimlessly for a few moments, and the piece evaporates in a haze of string chords.
The plotting of this trajectory is very confident, and there's something almost physical about the way in which Tuur moves and shapes the sound masses that his textures generate, so that the music offers a variety of perspectives - on one level the intricate construction offers constantly changing patterns and arrays, on another the sheer weight of sound is sculpted into large-scale gestures, so that the ear switches from one to the other. Intriguing stuff: Exodus certainly deserves some more performances.

Guardian. Oct. 28. 1999    Andrew Clements


(---) Järvi did, on the other hand, deliver an impressive first performance of Tüür's Exodus. Perhaps because of his background as a rock musician, Tüür sets out with a not too distant or obscure objective and devotes immense energy to getting there. The scoring of Exodus is brilliant throughout and its combination of high-speed stamina and repetitive figuration so relentless that it finds its way out - into an ethereal texture of comparatively sustained high-lying string sounds - only just in time.

The Times  Oct. 28 1999    Gerald Larner

Lincoln Theatre, Miami USA  09. 02. 2002
New World Symphony Orchestra, cond. Paavo Järvi

Any short list of the next generation's leading baton-wielders should include Paavo Järvi, who led the New World Symphony in a program of Scandinavian music Saturday night at the Lincoln Theatre. Son of noted conductor Neeme Järvi, head of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, the 39-year-old conductor is making big musical waves in his own right in his inaugural season as music director of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.
Saturday night in Miami Beach, Järvi showed just what all the buzz is about. The Estonian-born conductor elicited performances of remarkable refinement and gleaming clarity, demonstrating an impressive ability for nuance and balancing textures. Yet nothing was fussy or self-regarding about his direction, and the playing had tremendous sweep and vitality.
The opening work, Exodus by Erkki-Sven Tüür, demonstrated Järvi's ability to make a convincing case for a new and unfamiliar piece of music. Reflecting its title, Exodus is a journey reflecting "humanity's insatiable urge to escape constraints," says the Estonian composer. Like Järvi, Tüür, 42, played in a rock band as a youth, a populist inspiration that has clearly influenced his classical writing.
Scored for a large orchestra, Exodus is crafted with impressive confidence and stylistic flair. Unlike many works where the rock influence seems diluted or awkwardly grafted on to a symphonic canvas, Tüür's piece succeeds in fusing the raw energy of rock to orchestral forces. Exodus opens with untrammeled fury, with a rocklike riff for unison double-basses and vociferous brass chords cutting through. Eventually, the driving rhythms subside and the music softens to end on a peaceful note.
Järvi proved a committed advocate of his compatriot's music, eliciting playing of exhilarating virtuosity from the New World members, who were clearly as enthusiastic about this combustible music as the conductor.

South Florida Sun-Sentinel.  February 12. 2002     Lawrence A. Johnson

Carnegie Hall, New York USA  31. 02. 2003
Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, cond. Paavo Järvi

(---) Mr. Jarvi began with the New York premiere of "Exodus" (1999) by Erkki-Sven Tuur, an Estonian composer who lists Frank Zappa and the British art-rock band
King Crimson among his influences. The first half of his piece uses kaleidoscopic juxtapositions, with layers of swirling strings and combative brass bursts enveloping
everything from a Beethovenesque gallop to a brief string of jazz-tinged pitched percussion. This chaotic writing unfolds into a tranquil, texturally transparent closing
section. There were moments in the work's densest writing when the orchestra's strings seemed to flag, but mostly the musicians projected the level of energy that Mr. Tuur
demanded. (---)

New York Times  April 4. 2003   Allan Kozinn

In writing Zeitraum, I was attracted by the relations between two quite diverse conceptions of musical time. One extreme is to focus on only one almost imperceptibly changing sound or sound mass (with a harmonic texture at times brighter, at time dimmer). This is the “fixed,” unlinear time as opposed to the time that “flies”—quick, kaleidoscopic movement inserted in or using the “motionless” time as a background. I was interested in the tension between these to time conceptions, and in the third entity born of their relationship.