There’s nothing like an anodyne new(ish) work to give a masterpiece an even higher profile. Rachel Portman‘s Tipping Points, promising to address climate change issues, was so bland and featureless it could have been composed by AI. Any one bar of Shostakovich’s Tenth Symphony, on the other hand, shows originality of throught within a tradition, and unlike the Portman near-vacuum it challenged the musicians of the National Youth Orchestra of Ireland to the limits.
That they pulled it off was obviously due in no small measure to the guidance of Jessica Cottis. I’d like to have seen more urging of the phrases, less beating, and signs of a tighter focus in string playing: these things are achievable with a youth orchestra, as the National Youth Orchestra of Great Britain, comprising larger forces, always shows us (fascinating that they were playing another masterpiece, Nielsen’s Fourth Symphony, at the Barbican on the same day under Jaime Martín, who conducted them in the best performance I’ve ever heard of the next Shostakovich symphony, the Eleventh, punctuated by singing of the revolutionary anthems involved). 
Cottis certainly had a fine grasp of the tempo relationships in the vast and harrowing opening epic; if the strings lost focus a bit moving from one plane to another, they played with obvious heart and commitment at the climaxes, the violins led by impressive Seán Hurley especially so (cellos needed ensemble work).
The most moving moments belonged to wind solos and duets (members of the woodwind ensemble pictured above), above all the piccolo-flute coda to the first movement, and the wan, lost songs at the beginning of the finale, giving way to perfectly together celebrations (forget all that talk of ambiguity; this is Shostakovich’s only genuinely exultant conclusion). The sense of euphoria at the end, shared by the audience, was well deserved; they got there, and made sense of a supreme symphonic drama.
Neither praise nor blame need be attached to the players in the Portman, preceded by another drift with better ideas, Debussy’s Claire de lune arranged well enough by André Caplet (but why not the Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune, especially given the obvious talent displayed by principal flautist Aran Cahalan in the Shostakovich?) Violinist Niklas Liepe (pictured right by Kaupo Kikkas), who gave the 2023 premiere of Tipping Points, phrased with all possible expressiveness, but like the orchestra much of what he had to do was scales and arpeggios.
Nick Drake’s poems before each of the six movements, were apt, balancing value of what we have with horror of losing it, but promised way more than the music delivered (and should surely have been read by an Irish native - why not someone from the orchestra?). “Water” was a dry-land dance; surely Portman would give us more with “Fire”? Not nearly enough. The encore, at least, served up pure elan: “would you like more Shostakovich?,” Cottis asked – and launched into the “Troika” from Prokofiev’s Lieutenant Kije Suite. Never mind: we were all very happy with that.
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