When called back on stage at the Bridgewater Hall for the fourth or fifth time, the US composer John Adams walked only as far as the back of the first violins, raised his hands in thanks and gestured, smiling, that it was bedtime. At 78, Adams is younger than the first wave of American minimalists (Philip Glass, Steve Reich and co), who are now around 90. But the orchestral scores for which he is celebrated – alongside his nine operas – are intricate and polychrome, more maximalist than minimalist: music with so much dynamism it could generate mains electricity.
Following a three-day festival dedicated to Steve Reich earlier this year, the Hallé’s latest composer focus brought Adams himself to Manchester for four concerts, including the UK premiere of a Hallé co-commission. At the two I attended he was a characteristically charming presence, proclaiming himself “humbled” at a lunchtime concert at the Royal Northern College of Music, and praising “one of the best performances I’ve ever heard” of his 1992 Chamber Symphony.
