Mexican composer Gabriela Ortíz (b1964) carries on where Carlos Chávez, Silvestre Revueltas and other mid-20th-century modernists left off – creating concert works that are imbued with the indigenous and popular musics of their native culture. Her brief orchestral showpiece Kauyumari (2021) is a case in point, as its swaggering rhythmic ostinatos and repeated folkloric motifs hearken back to Chávez’s once-popular Sinfonía india (1936). It’s a crowd-pleaser, certainly, but a well-wrought one in which the gradual transformation of ideas keeps one’s attention from first note to last.

Altar de cuerda (2021), a substantial violin concerto composed for María Dueñas, is considerably more demanding for the listener as its musical ideas are generally more abstract and expansive. The title can be roughly translated as ‘Altar for strings’, but Ortíz says she uses the word ‘altar’ in a more symbolic or spiritual sense than a religious one. In the first part of the opening movement, the solo violin takes on a dramatic, imploring role rather like a dusky-voiced flamenco singer. The quarter-hour-long central slow movement floats massive yet delicate clouds that remind me of Ligeti’s Atmosphères or Lontano, above which the soloist soars in passionate song. It’s gorgeously eerie and displays a painterly concern with colour, shading and aural perspective. In the wild dance of the finale, the violinist is still required to sing, and Dueñas manages this brilliantly. Both the concerto itself and Dueñas’s performance are a knockout.

Revolución diamantina (2023), a ballet in six acts for large orchestra and women’s voices, was inspired by the 2019 ‘Glitter March’ and other recent anti-misogynist protests in Mexico. In it, Ortíz somehow manages to bring together Messiaen (the percussion-writing in the opening section starting around 1'12"), more Ligeti-esque clouds (the opening sonorities of Act 2), Stravinsky (listen for brief references to The Rite of Spring in Acts 3 and 4) and the glittering minimalism of Glass and Reich (Act 4). Yet despite these and other backwards glances, the score holds together remarkably well and Ortíz’s own unique voice is never lost. The choral writing is arresting and original – some of it lyrical although much of it is syllabic and suggestive of something primal. At 40 minutes, Revolución diamantina is long enough to take up the entire second half of a concert, and I’m fervently hoping that Dudamel brings it to New York when he takes the helm of the Philharmonic in 2025. I have a feeling that hearing it live would be a thrilling experience.

The LA Phil play all three works with tremendous commitment and finesse, and Platoon’s recorded sound is spectacular. Urgently recommended