Concertos often owe their origins to the inspiration of a great performer. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was so impressed with the pioneering clarinettist Anton Stadler that he wrote a concerto – along with several other works – especially for him. A close friendship with Mstislav Rostropovich spurred both of Dmitri Shostakovich’s Cello Concertos. Edvard Grieg’s Piano Concerto owes a considerable debt to Robert Schumann’s, which Grieg first heard performed by its dedicatee: Clara Schumann. In the case of Magnus Lindberg’s Third Piano Concerto, an encounter with Yuja Wang proved the spark. In 2019 she performed both Shostakovich Piano Concertos at a concert that also featured Lindberg’s 1985 breakthrough work Kraft. The composer was impressed: ‘I thought, ‘Ah! if ever there were a chance to compose something for her, that would be my goal.’’ An offer was soon made, accepted, and three years later the new work was premiered by Wang and the San Francisco Symphony, with Lindberg’s friend and compatriot Esa-Pekka Salonen conducting.

As with Lindberg’s other piano concertos, the piece was tailored specifically to the soloist, and Wang’s imprint can be felt throughout. The solo part is richly virtuosic, with little rest given between interchanging passages of dense chord clusters and filigree pattern work. Two solo cadenzas – at the end of the first movement and in the middle of the second – showcase both technical brilliance and endurance (the first is almost four minutes long). But the Concerto is not just about bravura. Subtle shifts in dynamics highlight the kaleidoscopic quality in Wang’s tone, while snatches of syrupy melody provide an outlet for the lyricism that makes her performances of Serge Rachmaninoff’s concertos so compelling. Lindberg was also careful not to write anything obviously uncomfortable, such as intervals of over an octave that would stretch one hand.

Wang’s musical personality may have shaped the ideas, but Lindberg’s maximalist style – urgent rhythms, a strong feel for harmony, vivid orchestral colours – feeds and propels the music. As does a reverence for the past: Béla Bartók’s Third Piano Concerto was an important initial influence, and its opening – ‘so beautiful and simple’ – can be traced in that of Lindberg’s. Other homages abound, in mood more than in direct quotation. The swelling, off-beat chords at the start of the first cadenza are surely a nod to the opening of Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto, while certain passages bear a resemblance to the glittering textures found in Ravel’s piano music.

This assimilation is key to Lindberg’s more recent compositional approach, particularly in works for piano. In his previous concerto, for instance, rather than inventing a ‘new universe for the instrument’, he tried to absorb the piano’s complex history into his own ‘personal language … not through post-modern style-hopping, but rather through a structure that creates a tension between different modes of expression’. A similar idea applies here. Though the movements are distinct (and, unusually for Lindberg, broken by pauses), they are based on the same material – a set of eight different sound realms or ‘characters’ with their own harmony and tempo. Lindberg presents and develops these characters in new colours and contexts, providing tension and release in their rapid exchange and combination.

In this way, each movement can be heard as a concerto itself – springing from the same source but unfurling through different dimensions. The combined effect is positively operatic, as Lindberg admits: ‘It’s so rich in its storytelling. It’s huge. In a way, it’s the biggest piece I’ve written.’ Indeed, the Finnish composer spent nearly two years on it – and another waiting to hear it performed (the Covid-delayed premiere was originally to be given in China). Tonight’s performance marks its UK premiere.

Read the full programme note on the London Symphony Orchestra website