Charles Wuorinen (b. 1938) fits neatly but not complacently into the present-day American mainstream. His music can hint at Carter-like complexity or 'big-country' neo-romanticism, but at its heart there's a full-blooded rethinking of late-Stravinskian abrasiveness, crossed with a brawny relish for bright colours, lively rhythms and tongue-in-cheek figuration that takes you to the periphery of Bernstein's West Side.
These works from the 1980s are well calculated so as not to scare off a mainstream orchestra, or their regular subscribers. Cynics might scoff that the concerto is too anxious to please, especially its uncomplicatedly dazzling final pages. As a whole nevertheless, the piece is far from trivial, the second of its three movements particularly notable for some tough thinking and an imaginative ending. I was less persuaded by The Golden Dance, whose long first movement seems to fall between aspirations to a traditional kind of linear flow and a more modernist, fragmented sculpting of musical space. The material hasn't stayed with me, although the second, final movement easily grabs the aural attention as another extrovert dance piece, throwing out the first movement's dialectic in favour of more accessible thrills that prepare an almost Ivesian ending.
It is good to hear Herbert Blomstedt tackling new works with his excellent San Francisco players. The recording doesn't flatter the piano in the concerto: nor, thankfully, does it further brighten up the effect of Wuorinen's already glowing orchestral palette.'