Leonard Bernstein's music presents us with the ultimate dichotomy since, like the little girl of the nursery rhyme, 'when she was good she was very, very good…' The adulation he received as both a conductor and composer was often balanced by his critics' need to devalue his musical ideology and language. Yet his is distinctive - he is the archetypal American composer; his music is Jewish, Hispanic, rock- and jazz-oriented, and, as such, is as diverse as the cultural foundations of his native country.

The dark and foreboding Age of Anxiety (1948), which he somewhat bafflingly subtitled Symphony No. 2, was a musical response to W. H. Auden's The Age of Anxiety: A Baroque Eclogue, published in 1939. The listener is subjected to a musical and philosophical journey that portrays the emotions of a group of four disparate (and seemingly desperate) characters, and the music is as diverse as those it represents. In part, it relies on the same formula he had used in On the Town four years previously, but this is not Broadway show music. Instead, we are given a rare glimpse of Bernstein's true musical language: exuberance is short-lived and, laden with conflict, the music is less fantastic and more autobiographical.

..Hamelin displays the same commitment, virtuosity and drive as the orchestra

Relatively unknown outside America, William Bolcom's music is the antithesis of Bernstein's. Despite his drawing on the same cultural diversity, the Concerto for Piano and Large Orchestra (1976) is a work that parodies Gershwin's F major piano concerto. But rather than abounding in unashamed Gershwinesque lyricism, here cynical humour combines with timbral, harmonic and melodic degradation: again there is conflict, but this time external, and rather than internal, it is ideological. The piano, acting as a unifying focal point and pitted against bitonal and pantonal utterances from the orchestra, constantly strives to find new methods of expression, from a simple walking-bass opening to an exploration of popular themes, to the stride piano of the speakeasy, to a vulgar montage of American popular patriotic melodies. This cynical pseudo-patriotism is a critical and pessimistic response to the age of Vietnam, to Watergate, to poverty and to social injustice.

Under the baton of principal conductor Dmitry Sitkovetsy, these are noteworthy performances. Orchestra and pianist alike respond to the moods of the music with a balance control that is particularly effective in the Bernstein, where its sudden manic changes of mood require not only a flexible approach, but also a subtle ability to vary expression and tone colour. Neither is this subtlety lost in the more upbeat moments, especially those that are jazz-based, where a sense of humour reveals the music's inherent sardonic verve and drive. Obviously, in both pieces the piano has to serve as a solo instrument, and in that capacity, Hamelin displays the same commitment, virtuosity and drive as the orchestra. On another level, however, it has to respond also in more subtle and varied ways, not only feeding, but also taking a lesser role as an integral part of a texture. Hamelin relishes these moments thoroughly.

These unique pieces were born out of a deep-seated desire for personal expression. Bernstein's case is introverted, dark and foreboding, Bolcom's, harsh, satirical and unforgiving. Their appeal, however, is enormous and Sitkovetsy's interpretation imaginative and exciting.

Ian le Prévost