Concerto for Saxophone (soprano/alto) and Orchestra (2026)
(for soprano and alto saxophone and orchestra)

The Saxophone Concerto is my 17th instrumental concerto, and I composed it at the suggestion of the saxophonist Asya Fateyeva, who, about five years ago, had the idea of commissioning a concerto from me. It took me ten months to complete the score. As with most of my large-scale orchestral works – I have also composed ten symphonies and various concertos – it may appear to consist of a single movement, but for me it clearly has four movements. I simply do not like these pauses between movements. I feel that they cause the continuous tension to be lost and disrupt the intuitive perception of the whole in a certain energetic sense. That is why there are no pauses between the movements, during which the conductor lets his hands hang down, the orchestra ‘takes a moment’s break’, and there is always the danger that the audience will start to applaud.

However, one external detail distinguishes this concerto from my many previous ones – it has no title.

The reason is simple – I simply couldn’t find one. As it turns out, I’ve already used up all the good titles. Essentially, this music, just like my other concertos, is a unique journey in which the main character (the soloist) must prove themselves in a wide variety of settings and psychological situations, grows through these experiences, undergoes a kind of transformation, and reaches a ‘new level’. So I decided to trust in the music itself and the substance that emerges from it.

The saxophone concerto begins with a short introduction, in which the ascending runs of the alto saxophone immediately set the entire orchestra in motion. It hangs in the air, like an unfinished sentence, like a huge question mark. Next, it seems as though the saxophone has lost its ability to speak, as though it is beginning to produce individual notes – mainly slaps – which echo just as dryly here and there within the orchestra, unable to form words, let alone sentences.

All this austerity, however, gradually intensifies; from time to time, a perceptible pulse emerges and then disappears again, giving way to expanding, pulse-less bubbles in which the saxophone plays various multiphonics. As the piece progresses, the soloist seems to learn to form motifs or syllables, and – as if inspired by the first interlude with the full orchestra – even coherent phrases. It is here that an important thematic unit first appears – a descending melodic line which, whilst retaining a similar structure but developing through different variations, also recurs in transformed form in the following movements. The second thematic unit, which appears in short motifs, is based on passages from the introduction, yet is constantly changing and is also consistently interwoven in a chamber-music style with various sections of the orchestra or solo instruments. The first movement ends with a descending melodic line that fades away, accompanied by the low strings and a bowed vibraphone. 

The second, more fast-paced movement begins in sombre tones and tentatively, but steadily gains in confidence and momentum. Here, an increasingly intense dialogue unfolds between the soloist and the orchestra, and the tonal development also tends towards ever brighter colours. The solo part itself grows constantly in a very organic way, at times taking up ideas from the orchestra, at others providing ideas for the orchestra itself. As they unfold in this way, the soloist and orchestra – sometimes together, sometimes in turn – create an increasingly intense, oscillating field of tension, which resolves through an orchestral climax into the micro-polyphonic, fading sound waves of the soloist and the woodwind section. The transition to the third, slow, meditative movement takes place as if one were flowing seamlessly into the other. We hear a duet between the saxophone and tuba, surrounded by rapid swirls from the woodwinds, and for a moment the theme of the second movement reappears in retrospect, though the temple blocks lend it a different character.

What follows might be reminiscent of an ancient chorale, in which a starry sky, formed by the harmonics of the string section, rises above the lower registers created by the soft chords of the low brass instruments accompanying the soloist.

The fourth, fast movement is bright and jubilant in character. The woodwinds, together with the glockenspiel, create a cascade of sound that begins in the high register of the flutes and moves downwards, all the way to the contrabassoon, followed by the pulsating pizzicato groove of the cellos and double basses, which contrasts with the sustained flageolets of the high strings. Another variation on the descending melodic line, this time played by the soprano saxophone, blends into this sonic texture. Once again, a descending cascade of sound from the woodwinds follows, the ‘fade-out’ of which drives the development forward. And then the soprano saxophone begins to process and further develop the material of this cascade. The chemistry between the soloist and the orchestra increasingly transforms into effervescent energy, and after the third so-called descending cascade of sound, the solo cadenza begins, which in turn leads to the most dramatic orchestral episode. At the end of this episode, the soprano saxophone takes up the material introduced by the alto saxophone in the introduction – yet now the phrase does not hang in the air, but has found a conclusive resolution.