The breaks between fast and slow sections are sometimes quite abrupt and arbitrary - but within those sections the musical processes at work are constantly exhilarating. But thanks to his Orkney experience, Maxwell Davies has had much more practise at metamorphosing the sights and sounds of nature into the workings of an orchestra. The ensuing slow section is a magically translucent scena for gently rocking violins, muted trombones and woodwind arabesques, while a repeated motif in the penultimate allegro develops into a prophecy of meltdown. It is a one-movement study in sound of the awesome static beauty of the desolate continent. Nature is not an enemy as it is in Vaughan Williams.
Time is merely the canvas which the still-life fills.
Irregular bar-lengths permit no rhythm to take hold. Even the middle section's romantic string melody with old-fashioned harps runs sounds like frozen homage to the earlier composer. The jagged opening is as vicious as ice. Aggressive trombones punch with glacial glare. The clarinet speaks with chilly clarity - God this is an awful place.