Olga Neuwirth has lately emerged among the most uncompromising younger European composers – nowhere more so than in Bählamms Fest (‘The Feast of the Lambs’). This ‘music-theatre in 13 scenes after Leonora Carrington’ no doubt unsettled those at its Vienna Festival première in 1999 and with good reason, as its underlying theme – when, in the words of the composer, ‘couples and generations come to be at loggerheads about unappeased longings and desires’ – draws on the lineage of Wozzeck and Die Soldaten, rendering their alienation and negativity the more immediate through present-day compositional and technological means.

The surrealist madness with which Carrington characterises goings on within the House of Carnis is forcefully conveyed, Neuwirth evoking a range of stylistic allusions within an idiom which is at once outwardly anarchic yet intricately honed in its attention to detail and balance. Thus the weightlessness of the opening minutes denoting the unreality of the action to come – in which inflected speech will occur more frequently than sung vocal lines, and to a libretto whose alloted roles are far outweighed by passages which describe the ‘feel’ of what is happening on stage. Not least for this reason, it would have helped to have translations of the German libretto to complement the useful but brief English and French synopses (could Kairos not provide these on its website?). Indeed, it could be argued that musical drama such as this needs to be seen as well as heard, making a DVD release essential.

Yet Neuwirth’s score is engrossing purely in sonic terms. The two largest scenes give a good idea of its diversity: that in the abandoned children’s room (scene 5) – where the half-wolf, half-human Jeremy and Theodora declare their love before a ghostly entourage of mutilated animals; and that in snowbound countryside (scene 8), with Jeremy as a psychotic Angel bent on destruction before his own murder. Here as elsewhere, a theremin plays an integral role within the musical texture, pointing up the aura of deranged reality that permeates the scenario. Seeking an ethical dimension for the work, Neuwirth posits a guardedly optimistic outcome for Theodora – but the crushing finality of her isolation in the last scene, as disembodied sounds fade out of earshot, seems anything but hopeful.

The performance is clearly the result of lengthy assimilation. Ute Trenkel-Burckhardt, Andrew Watts and Christine Whittlesey are outstanding vocally, and Johannes Kalitzke draws a pungent response from Klangforum Wien. The significant electronic component has been skilfully integrated into the overall sound picture. Those who have responded positively to previous Neuwirth releases should now investigate Bählamms Fest.