My colleague Andrew Mellor’s smart little analysis of the cul-de-sac into which Kaija Saariaho has driven her work during the latter part of her career – in his review of Saariaho’s chamber works with flute (Ondine, 12/15) – can’t really be bettered. ‘Milking her aesthetic stasis for all its worth’, AM wrote, and listening to this second instalment of small-scale chamber pieces with two larger works – …de la terre (1991) for violin and electronics and Terra memoria for string quartet (2006) – the conclusion that Saariaho has whittled her vocabulary down to a purée of interchangeable effects, designed to function convincingly no matter what the harmonic context, is difficult to avoid.

Certainly the days of conceptually bold statements packed with harmonic intrigue like Verblendungen (1984) and Lichtbogen (1986) feel a long way in her past, and for reasons that the opening piece, the miniature for string quartet Fleurs de neige (1998), make instantly clear. The Finnish quartet Meta4 play with keyhole clarity and purpose, but the music itself feels phobic about nailing anything meaningful to any meaningful mast. Tremolos and harmonic glissandos glance secretively above the surface before scuttling back to safety. Sustained notes crescendo with grandiose ceremony into thin air. And even when, at long last, the meat of Saariaho’s argument gathers impetus with soulful melodic musings over a rocking bass, the action rubs itself out, freezing suddenly into generalised atmospherics.

All the pieces here display that same tendency of implying gravitas by staging atmosphere rather than manipulating musical material. Die Aussicht (1996) descends into generic operatic writing for soprano voice, while …de la terre plunders every hackneyed cliché of electronica in the book, including wiring super-loud string pizzicatos into the mains where they shatter into slow-motion reverb – a done-to-death effect typical of Nordic techno.