“The principal bassoonist of the Lahti Symphony Orchestra, Harri Ahmas, repeatedly surprises with his compositions, which in no way need to blush beside the works of our far more renowned composers—quite the contrary! Apparently, one should not earn one’s living as a musician in the provinces, but rather enjoy a state composer’s grant and reside in the vicinity of the capital, if one wishes to be acknowledged as a “real” composer in the proper circles.
Ahmas’s Stilleben also proved to be a skillfully constructed, eventful, and stylistically coherent composition, which I listened to with genuine pleasure. The work’s nondescript title is hardly conducive to attracting listeners. Moreover, the German word Stilleben also means a quiet life—and there was certainly nothing quiet about the often fiercely dramatic course of this composition.”
ESS. 16.2.2002 / Arto Sakari Korpinen
Ahmas’s Stilleben also proved to be a skillfully constructed, eventful, and stylistically coherent composition, which I listened to with genuine pleasure. The work’s nondescript title is hardly conducive to attracting listeners. Moreover, the German word Stilleben also means a quiet life—and there was certainly nothing quiet about the often fiercely dramatic course of this composition.”
ESS. 16.2.2002 / Arto Sakari Korpinen
Ahmas’s Organ Concerto ventured into deep waters
“The premiere of Lahti-based composer Harri Ahmas’s organ concerto on Thursday was an intense emotional journey, drawing listeners in for nearly 40 gripping minutes.
The experience was not always comfortable. In his new work, Ahmas navigates deep, turbulent waters. His contemplative musical language leans toward dark tonal colors, and numerous dramatic elements amplify the sense of tension.
From the very first notes, the low strings created a menacing atmosphere, which in the opening movement grew into a martial gloom, driven by the snare drum. The fragmented Allegretto section introduced touches of humor, though its tone remained stark and occasionally grotesque.
In the expansive and moving third movement, the piece’s pent-up emotions could no longer be contained. Desperate wandering gave way to a powerful, cathartic climax, where anguish erupted with overwhelming force.
The finale served two purposes: to weave together the themes of earlier movements and to set the stage for a chilling final pursuit. The work concluded as a nightmare might—intensely and relentlessly—leaving the listener with only one option: to awaken.”
ESS. 19.4.2008 / Markus Luukkonen
“The premiere of Lahti-based composer Harri Ahmas’s organ concerto on Thursday was an intense emotional journey, drawing listeners in for nearly 40 gripping minutes.
The experience was not always comfortable. In his new work, Ahmas navigates deep, turbulent waters. His contemplative musical language leans toward dark tonal colors, and numerous dramatic elements amplify the sense of tension.
From the very first notes, the low strings created a menacing atmosphere, which in the opening movement grew into a martial gloom, driven by the snare drum. The fragmented Allegretto section introduced touches of humor, though its tone remained stark and occasionally grotesque.
In the expansive and moving third movement, the piece’s pent-up emotions could no longer be contained. Desperate wandering gave way to a powerful, cathartic climax, where anguish erupted with overwhelming force.
The finale served two purposes: to weave together the themes of earlier movements and to set the stage for a chilling final pursuit. The work concluded as a nightmare might—intensely and relentlessly—leaving the listener with only one option: to awaken.”
ESS. 19.4.2008 / Markus Luukkonen
Lahti’s Organ Blends into the Orchestra
The composer’s central aim was to construct the concerto as a contest of power between two great musical machines. In the first half, one often had the impression that the orchestra emerged as the stronger force—especially when the brass were allowed to resound at full power. The acoustics of Sibelius Hall may present a challenge in that the organ sound is not evenly distributed throughout the hall but tends to focus toward the stalls. The hall’s excellent acoustics are designed for orchestra and do not provide the long cathedral-like reverberation that is the organ’s ideal sonic home.
Ahmas’s organ concerto is a modern version of the Romantic concerto, corresponding to the French Romantic character of the Sibelius Hall organ. Organist Jan Lehtola brought out all the colors and characters of the concerto and engaged in an active dialogue—and at times a struggle—with the orchestra conducted by Petri Komulainen. Within the work’s predominantly serious, austere Finnish Romantic atmosphere,
elements of play, dance, and grotesque humor emerge. At times the music becomes dark and fierce.
Occasionally the concerto’s mood resembled an autumnal wilderness journey, where all colors disappear behind a veil of mist.
HS. 19.4.2008 / Hannu-Ilari Lampila
The composer’s central aim was to construct the concerto as a contest of power between two great musical machines. In the first half, one often had the impression that the orchestra emerged as the stronger force—especially when the brass were allowed to resound at full power. The acoustics of Sibelius Hall may present a challenge in that the organ sound is not evenly distributed throughout the hall but tends to focus toward the stalls. The hall’s excellent acoustics are designed for orchestra and do not provide the long cathedral-like reverberation that is the organ’s ideal sonic home.
Ahmas’s organ concerto is a modern version of the Romantic concerto, corresponding to the French Romantic character of the Sibelius Hall organ. Organist Jan Lehtola brought out all the colors and characters of the concerto and engaged in an active dialogue—and at times a struggle—with the orchestra conducted by Petri Komulainen. Within the work’s predominantly serious, austere Finnish Romantic atmosphere,
elements of play, dance, and grotesque humor emerge. At times the music becomes dark and fierce.
Occasionally the concerto’s mood resembled an autumnal wilderness journey, where all colors disappear behind a veil of mist.
HS. 19.4.2008 / Hannu-Ilari Lampila
“You can understand why Harri Ahmas describes his 2008 work Käärmesormus (“Snake Ring”) as a “chamber opera,” but the title is far from ideal. Pinning down this piece for mezzo and ensemble isn’t easy. It sits somewhere between Schubert’s Winterreise (in its setting of first-person poems that form a narrative), George Benjamin’s Written on Skin (in the mystery of its 16th-century French setting), and Turnage’s Twice Through the Heart (with its cruelly treated woman delivering a series of confessional monologues). Turnage calls his work a “dramatic scena,” and that may be the better term here as well.
Tittamari Marttinen’s poems, centred on a woman from Burgundy forced to renounce her true love and marry a stranger, share something of Written on Skin’s eroticism—though not the same tension between characters, since here the protagonist, Beata Lyonnaise, sings and speaks alone, while the ensemble recites her epilogue. Ahmas sets each poem as a self-contained entity, each with its own gait and stylistic colouring. At times the music has a pained, atonal lyricism; at others it pastiches klezmer or other clearly recognisable styles; elsewhere it slips into sharply etched neoclassicism.
The discourse and its stylistic detours can be difficult to locate. Yet while Ahmas’s music may sprawl conceptually, it is rich in invention, compositional discipline, and extraordinary instrumentation (one never tires of the sixteen hands of the Zagros Ensemble), as well as a deep and immediate responsiveness to the text that gives it an almost Italianate character. When it matters, Ahmas exercises restraint through effective use of ostinato and patterning—or through the pure colour of a single instrument—even if at times he seems almost too inventive for his own good.
Mezzo Ulla Raiskio discovered Marttinen’s poems, and we have her to thank for the existence of the work. She sings with all the passion—both defiant and veiled—that the protagonist’s descent demands. Yet her voice is weighty and rarely intimate or fragile, qualities central to the narrative. Whatever Käärmesormus ultimately is, it remains a considerable achievement. Only repeated listening will reveal whether it is a strange masterpiece or simply strange.”
Gramophone February 2017 / Andrew Mellor
Tittamari Marttinen’s poems, centred on a woman from Burgundy forced to renounce her true love and marry a stranger, share something of Written on Skin’s eroticism—though not the same tension between characters, since here the protagonist, Beata Lyonnaise, sings and speaks alone, while the ensemble recites her epilogue. Ahmas sets each poem as a self-contained entity, each with its own gait and stylistic colouring. At times the music has a pained, atonal lyricism; at others it pastiches klezmer or other clearly recognisable styles; elsewhere it slips into sharply etched neoclassicism.
The discourse and its stylistic detours can be difficult to locate. Yet while Ahmas’s music may sprawl conceptually, it is rich in invention, compositional discipline, and extraordinary instrumentation (one never tires of the sixteen hands of the Zagros Ensemble), as well as a deep and immediate responsiveness to the text that gives it an almost Italianate character. When it matters, Ahmas exercises restraint through effective use of ostinato and patterning—or through the pure colour of a single instrument—even if at times he seems almost too inventive for his own good.
Mezzo Ulla Raiskio discovered Marttinen’s poems, and we have her to thank for the existence of the work. She sings with all the passion—both defiant and veiled—that the protagonist’s descent demands. Yet her voice is weighty and rarely intimate or fragile, qualities central to the narrative. Whatever Käärmesormus ultimately is, it remains a considerable achievement. Only repeated listening will reveal whether it is a strange masterpiece or simply strange.”
Gramophone February 2017 / Andrew Mellor
“In his new concerto, Harri Ahmas gives the percussion instruments melodic and coloristic tasks. The more traditional rhythmic fireworks are limited to the cadenza that forms the third movement, where the tape part—which elsewhere is content with subtle shading—assumes a more independent role.
The percussion concerto is music for the ears. Instead of a compulsive display of a large percussion arsenal, the work unfolds calmly in sensuous sections.
The orchestra played with flavor. Despite the shared, rich palette of colors, a gentlemanly sense of rivalry arises between the soloist and the orchestra.
The concert was a Lahden-style commando strike on Helsinki. Ahmas, the concerto’s skillful soloist Olli-Pekka Martikainen, and conductor Petri Komulainen are all musicians of Sinfonia Lahti.”
HS. 18.2.2007 / Jukka Isopuro
The percussion concerto is music for the ears. Instead of a compulsive display of a large percussion arsenal, the work unfolds calmly in sensuous sections.
The orchestra played with flavor. Despite the shared, rich palette of colors, a gentlemanly sense of rivalry arises between the soloist and the orchestra.
The concert was a Lahden-style commando strike on Helsinki. Ahmas, the concerto’s skillful soloist Olli-Pekka Martikainen, and conductor Petri Komulainen are all musicians of Sinfonia Lahti.”
HS. 18.2.2007 / Jukka Isopuro
“Ahmas`s deeply internalized, intimate music sets out purely from musical elements, seemed to rely purely on musical elements; he clearly avoids external effects. The calm opening, listening to itself, develops its musical material naturally evolving into the rhythmic figures of the finale, before gradually subsiding again into its original state of emergence.The circle closes.
It feels as if the beginning already contained the whole composition: gradually and calmly it was unwound, and finally closed again. The “breathing” of the composition was very natural and unforced.
Ahmas seems to have something important to say. A sextet performed a year ago felt broader and more robust, building a bridge toward that kind of movement. Now my experience was quite different, although at first hearing it still did not yet create a major musical experience.”
US 6.8.1993/ Altti Kangas
It feels as if the beginning already contained the whole composition: gradually and calmly it was unwound, and finally closed again. The “breathing” of the composition was very natural and unforced.
Ahmas seems to have something important to say. A sextet performed a year ago felt broader and more robust, building a bridge toward that kind of movement. Now my experience was quite different, although at first hearing it still did not yet create a major musical experience.”
US 6.8.1993/ Altti Kangas
“A Powerful Ballad”
Harri Ahmas’s Ballad from Ihantala was not pleasant, but one of the most powerful experiences at the Sibelius Hall stage. The work is based on Lasse Heikkilä’s poetry collection, in which the heroic dead of the battles of Tali and Ihantala address the poet from beneath their graves.
Lasse Pöysti’s forcefully delivered text was an experience that surely did not leave anyone indifferent or feeling like an outsider. Ahmas’s brilliantly depicted music took us straight into the midst of these suffering and dying men.
War could hardly be depicted in any way other than through marches. The difference between a victory march and a funeral march is clearly audible, but ultimately it is probably not visible. The images of war that flood our televisions night after night do not evoke medals of valor or heroic celebrations.
Ahmas is becoming a brilliant master of orchestral means of expression and color, from whom one can expect a significant contribution to Finnish musical art.”
ESS. 8.6.2004 / Pentti Mäkinen
Harri Ahmas’s Ballad from Ihantala was not pleasant, but one of the most powerful experiences at the Sibelius Hall stage. The work is based on Lasse Heikkilä’s poetry collection, in which the heroic dead of the battles of Tali and Ihantala address the poet from beneath their graves.
Lasse Pöysti’s forcefully delivered text was an experience that surely did not leave anyone indifferent or feeling like an outsider. Ahmas’s brilliantly depicted music took us straight into the midst of these suffering and dying men.
War could hardly be depicted in any way other than through marches. The difference between a victory march and a funeral march is clearly audible, but ultimately it is probably not visible. The images of war that flood our televisions night after night do not evoke medals of valor or heroic celebrations.
Ahmas is becoming a brilliant master of orchestral means of expression and color, from whom one can expect a significant contribution to Finnish musical art.”
ESS. 8.6.2004 / Pentti Mäkinen
A new luminous symphonist has been born: Harri Ahmas!
“The debut symphony by Ahmas, premiered at Sinfonia Lahti’s Independence Day celebration concert, proved to be a weighty work that stands up excellently in comparison with any symphony composed in recent decades.
Harri Ahmas’s development as a composer has in recent years been followed with growing interest. Time after time he has delighted listeners with compositions that reach surprisingly enjoyable achievements within the realm of musical forms.
The First Symphony is undoubtedly Ahmas’s definitive breakthrough. From now on he is primarily a composer and no longer merely the principal bassoonist of Sinfonia Lahti who composes as a hobby.
As the most esteemed compositional form of Western art music, the symphony places the composer in a trial by fire, demanding not only solid mastery of compositional technique but also clear logical musical thinking as well as rich imagination and emotional sensitivity. With his visionary and distinctive work, Ahmas proves that he has matured into a significant symphonist.
It is pleasing that the composer wishes to follow the ideal of pure, absolute music: the symphony has no programmatic background whatsoever. “My only purpose has been to touch the human mind,” he says. “If there is no feeling, music is merely technical execution.”
This golden principle, which many avant-garde compositional methods have bluntly rejected, is well realized in the symphony. Thus the music is also alive and moving and does not taste dry and like paper rasping under the pen.
Among the godfathers of Ahmas’s musical language, in fact only Shostakovich stands out, whose influences appear most clearly in the first two movements. They do not disturb in the least, however, for Ahmas has blended them naturally into his own personal idiom.
What is astonishing is the sovereign mastery with which Ahmas handles the orchestral resources of sound: at times deliberately sparingly, at other times effectively colorful. In the quiet turns of the music the ear catches caressing, delicately weighed nuances. The climaxes of the deliberately constructed rises sound correspondingly stunning and magnificent.
The third and fourth movements Ahmas has woven together completely seamlessly. It might perhaps have been better, however, to keep them separate in the classical manner, for the resulting whole felt somewhat too long and did not form a clearly comprehensible total structure.
From the enthusiastic playing of both Osmo Vänskä and the orchestral musicians shone genuine musicians’ joy, which for its part testified to the symphony’s richness
of content, and the performance polished to a stage-ready finish showed that the new music had been fully internalized.
According to the program booklet, Ahmas already has a second symphony completed as well. Hopefully it will be performed soon!”
ESS. 8.12.2003 / Arto Sakari Korpinen
“The debut symphony by Ahmas, premiered at Sinfonia Lahti’s Independence Day celebration concert, proved to be a weighty work that stands up excellently in comparison with any symphony composed in recent decades.
Harri Ahmas’s development as a composer has in recent years been followed with growing interest. Time after time he has delighted listeners with compositions that reach surprisingly enjoyable achievements within the realm of musical forms.
The First Symphony is undoubtedly Ahmas’s definitive breakthrough. From now on he is primarily a composer and no longer merely the principal bassoonist of Sinfonia Lahti who composes as a hobby.
As the most esteemed compositional form of Western art music, the symphony places the composer in a trial by fire, demanding not only solid mastery of compositional technique but also clear logical musical thinking as well as rich imagination and emotional sensitivity. With his visionary and distinctive work, Ahmas proves that he has matured into a significant symphonist.
It is pleasing that the composer wishes to follow the ideal of pure, absolute music: the symphony has no programmatic background whatsoever. “My only purpose has been to touch the human mind,” he says. “If there is no feeling, music is merely technical execution.”
This golden principle, which many avant-garde compositional methods have bluntly rejected, is well realized in the symphony. Thus the music is also alive and moving and does not taste dry and like paper rasping under the pen.
Among the godfathers of Ahmas’s musical language, in fact only Shostakovich stands out, whose influences appear most clearly in the first two movements. They do not disturb in the least, however, for Ahmas has blended them naturally into his own personal idiom.
What is astonishing is the sovereign mastery with which Ahmas handles the orchestral resources of sound: at times deliberately sparingly, at other times effectively colorful. In the quiet turns of the music the ear catches caressing, delicately weighed nuances. The climaxes of the deliberately constructed rises sound correspondingly stunning and magnificent.
The third and fourth movements Ahmas has woven together completely seamlessly. It might perhaps have been better, however, to keep them separate in the classical manner, for the resulting whole felt somewhat too long and did not form a clearly comprehensible total structure.
From the enthusiastic playing of both Osmo Vänskä and the orchestral musicians shone genuine musicians’ joy, which for its part testified to the symphony’s richness
of content, and the performance polished to a stage-ready finish showed that the new music had been fully internalized.
According to the program booklet, Ahmas already has a second symphony completed as well. Hopefully it will be performed soon!”
ESS. 8.12.2003 / Arto Sakari Korpinen
“I wrote ‘A new radiant symphonist has been born’ when Sinfonia Lahti premiered Harri Ahmas’s first symphony under the direction of Osmo Vänskä at the Independence Day concert in 2003. And I have no reason to take back my words after now hearing it conducted by Okko Kamu. I still hold the opinion that the composition stands comparison with any symphony composed in recent decades anywhere.
While savoring the music’s fine harmonies and tone colors, I was especially struck by its logical progression and its ability to keep its tension unrelenting. The mark of a masterpiece!”
ESS. 27.4.2013 /Arto Sakari Korpinen
While savoring the music’s fine harmonies and tone colors, I was especially struck by its logical progression and its ability to keep its tension unrelenting. The mark of a masterpiece!”
ESS. 27.4.2013 /Arto Sakari Korpinen
The closing number of the concert was Harri Ahmas’s Second Symphony, which has already received unusual attention for a new work. The symphony, composed last year, was awarded second prize in the Uuno Klami Composition Competition, where it was the only Finnish work to reach the top positions. Harri Ahmas is the principal bassoonist of Sinfonia Lahti and therefore knows the orchestra’s possibilities thoroughly.
It has been said of Klami’s music that it is free of gloominess, and the same can be said of Ahmas’s symphony. The imaginative use of sound showed that the work contains no explicit narrative, yet it easily and naturally evokes various images and feelings.
From small structures to larger ones, the symphony spoke of unity and of the composer’s maturity. The various sonic solutions did not suggest experimentation so much as thoughtful development. The character of the Lentement movement and the Shostakovich-like quality in the rhythm of the finale linked the work gracefully with the best of the symphonic tradition.
Through Ahmas’s symphony, Osmo Vänskä and Sinfonia Lahti have gained a splendid export work for the world.
ESS. 3.10.2004 / Pentti Mäkinen
It has been said of Klami’s music that it is free of gloominess, and the same can be said of Ahmas’s symphony. The imaginative use of sound showed that the work contains no explicit narrative, yet it easily and naturally evokes various images and feelings.
From small structures to larger ones, the symphony spoke of unity and of the composer’s maturity. The various sonic solutions did not suggest experimentation so much as thoughtful development. The character of the Lentement movement and the Shostakovich-like quality in the rhythm of the finale linked the work gracefully with the best of the symphonic tradition.
Through Ahmas’s symphony, Osmo Vänskä and Sinfonia Lahti have gained a splendid export work for the world.
ESS. 3.10.2004 / Pentti Mäkinen
Ahmas’s Third – Life Pulses
Ahmas’s Third Symphony had been long awaited, since his previous symphony dates from 2004. In the concert presentation the composer said of the work that “there are fragments of life in it, because the piece was born in the midst of life.” And indeed, the symphony contains tensions in which one can recognize the sounds of life itself. Knowing that the work has been composed over the past few years, one can sense the anxiety of a conscious human being within it—but also light and joy.
The rhythmic writing for the strings is fascinating, and the harp part sometimes seems like a heart suddenly beginning to beat.
In the first movement, moving at an andante tempo, the strings create a cosmic atmosphere.
The brass, marimba, flute, and harp stand out as the stars of the Third Symphony. Ahmas uses the brass in a particularly appealing way—their rhythmic steps are intriguing and the sound was magnificent. In the first movement there is a wistfully beautiful flute solo, a calm pool in the middle of a storm. If one were to describe the symphony with an image, it is full of intelligence: conversations between instruments and chords, and vast musical worlds within the larger whole.
The third movement proceeds softly, in piano and andantino, but gathers together the comments and currents that run throughout the symphony. The work ends with a sweeping gesture that expands to a grand scale—a vast, powerful arc.
Harri Ahmas is, after all, himself an orchestral musician, and it shows: he knows how to draw from the orchestra its shades, colors, and power.
Sinfonia Lahti and conductor Erkki Lasonpalo ignited Ahmas’s symphony into a splendid, open sound. Lasonpalo had constructed a precise spectrum of atmospheres for the work, which contains a wealth of intensity to interpret. The symphony received a deeply internalized premiere performance, warmly appreciated by the audience.
Harri Ahmas’s symphony is a human-scale work, rich in intelligent musical statements and overlapping streams of harmony. Across its three movements there unfolds a classical dramatic arc—a story built through symphonic means. The new symphony challenges even the largest concert stages with its quality and expressive power. A genuine symphony has come to life.
US 16.11.2015 / Anja Kuoppa
Ahmas’s Third Symphony had been long awaited, since his previous symphony dates from 2004. In the concert presentation the composer said of the work that “there are fragments of life in it, because the piece was born in the midst of life.” And indeed, the symphony contains tensions in which one can recognize the sounds of life itself. Knowing that the work has been composed over the past few years, one can sense the anxiety of a conscious human being within it—but also light and joy.
The rhythmic writing for the strings is fascinating, and the harp part sometimes seems like a heart suddenly beginning to beat.
In the first movement, moving at an andante tempo, the strings create a cosmic atmosphere.
The brass, marimba, flute, and harp stand out as the stars of the Third Symphony. Ahmas uses the brass in a particularly appealing way—their rhythmic steps are intriguing and the sound was magnificent. In the first movement there is a wistfully beautiful flute solo, a calm pool in the middle of a storm. If one were to describe the symphony with an image, it is full of intelligence: conversations between instruments and chords, and vast musical worlds within the larger whole.
The third movement proceeds softly, in piano and andantino, but gathers together the comments and currents that run throughout the symphony. The work ends with a sweeping gesture that expands to a grand scale—a vast, powerful arc.
Harri Ahmas is, after all, himself an orchestral musician, and it shows: he knows how to draw from the orchestra its shades, colors, and power.
Sinfonia Lahti and conductor Erkki Lasonpalo ignited Ahmas’s symphony into a splendid, open sound. Lasonpalo had constructed a precise spectrum of atmospheres for the work, which contains a wealth of intensity to interpret. The symphony received a deeply internalized premiere performance, warmly appreciated by the audience.
Harri Ahmas’s symphony is a human-scale work, rich in intelligent musical statements and overlapping streams of harmony. Across its three movements there unfolds a classical dramatic arc—a story built through symphonic means. The new symphony challenges even the largest concert stages with its quality and expressive power. A genuine symphony has come to life.
US 16.11.2015 / Anja Kuoppa
“Harri Ahmas’s third symphony fits into the same continuum: it is not deliberately difficult or impossible, but in its drama, it is beautiful and contemporary. It is not about shock value, but about unpredictability.
During the half-hour symphony, these surprises come like a rapid-fire sequence: at times the percussion takes the lead for a moment, muted wind instruments produce hypnotic patterns, and the strings shift the mood in an instant from aggression to serenity.
The music’s immense vitality grips the listener: in a time of commercial music and cheap nostalgia, it feels like fresh air. Hopefully the symphony will be recorded soon, so that as many people as possible can enjoy it.”
ESS. 14.1.2015 / Petri Poutiainen
During the half-hour symphony, these surprises come like a rapid-fire sequence: at times the percussion takes the lead for a moment, muted wind instruments produce hypnotic patterns, and the strings shift the mood in an instant from aggression to serenity.
The music’s immense vitality grips the listener: in a time of commercial music and cheap nostalgia, it feels like fresh air. Hopefully the symphony will be recorded soon, so that as many people as possible can enjoy it.”
ESS. 14.1.2015 / Petri Poutiainen
Sibelius’s works were interspersed with Harri Ahmas’s Fourth Symphony, which received its premiere in Lahti on Independence Day. The work, bearing the subtitle Songs of Moa, reminds us of humanity’s disrespectful relationship with nature and its irreversible consequences—in this case, the extinction of a species.
The symphony’s surface structure is traditional: a three-movement classical form beginning with an introduction. Ahmas opens with dense chords and an intense melody, which lead, in contrast, into a surprisingly lyrical first movement.
The sorrowful atmosphere returns. The pathos of the second movement again leads into a weighty song. Ahmas, however, knows the orchestra well, and in this work even the heaviness sounds convincing. The orchestration works. The symphony ends decisively.
Even the audience at the celebratory concert might have expressed far more enthusiastic appreciation. Ahmas can well be predicted to become a name of the future.
HS 9.12.2019 / Sakari Hilden
The symphony’s surface structure is traditional: a three-movement classical form beginning with an introduction. Ahmas opens with dense chords and an intense melody, which lead, in contrast, into a surprisingly lyrical first movement.
The sorrowful atmosphere returns. The pathos of the second movement again leads into a weighty song. Ahmas, however, knows the orchestra well, and in this work even the heaviness sounds convincing. The orchestration works. The symphony ends decisively.
Even the audience at the celebratory concert might have expressed far more enthusiastic appreciation. Ahmas can well be predicted to become a name of the future.
HS 9.12.2019 / Sakari Hilden
Harri Ahmas delighted with his quintet
Living music is not created by planning and by drafting theories, but by making music. Of this, in this concert too, a convincing demonstration was again obtained.
For I do not believe that Harri Ahmas would have used rulers, tables or computers when composing his quintet for bassoon and string quartet. As a bassoonist of the Radio Symphony Orchestra, making music is for him a natural way to express himself, and it also radiates from the appealing musical language of this quintet.
I admit that I did not become particularly enthusiastic about its first movement, Dialogi, which somehow seemed rather ordinary, like a collection of different effect devices. But the continuation, Postludium, then showed the possibilities of using that material and thus set the opening in its proper place. And in that Postludium the music indeed began to sound and live, and an unconventional but clear form took shape in a way that testified to mature musicianship. I would believe that Harri Ahmas will be heard even more as a composer.
HS. 9.3.1989 / Olavi Kauko
Living music is not created by planning and by drafting theories, but by making music. Of this, in this concert too, a convincing demonstration was again obtained.
For I do not believe that Harri Ahmas would have used rulers, tables or computers when composing his quintet for bassoon and string quartet. As a bassoonist of the Radio Symphony Orchestra, making music is for him a natural way to express himself, and it also radiates from the appealing musical language of this quintet.
I admit that I did not become particularly enthusiastic about its first movement, Dialogi, which somehow seemed rather ordinary, like a collection of different effect devices. But the continuation, Postludium, then showed the possibilities of using that material and thus set the opening in its proper place. And in that Postludium the music indeed began to sound and live, and an unconventional but clear form took shape in a way that testified to mature musicianship. I would believe that Harri Ahmas will be heard even more as a composer.
HS. 9.3.1989 / Olavi Kauko
The Bassoon: At Rest or at War
“In chamber ensembles there is always the risk that the bassoon, with its highly distinctive tone, will dominate the other instruments too strongly. Yet it is the composer’s task to show that such prominence is musically justified. In his new bassoon quintet, Harri Ahmas demonstrates that it is not only justified but necessary.
Ahmas weaves the strings and the bassoon together as a practicing musician rather than as a theorist. That is the source of the work’s appeal and its immediately engaging character. Rarely have I heard, for example, a glissando leap work so naturally and directly as an authentic part of the musical language.”
US 9.3.1989 / Jukka Määttänen
“In chamber ensembles there is always the risk that the bassoon, with its highly distinctive tone, will dominate the other instruments too strongly. Yet it is the composer’s task to show that such prominence is musically justified. In his new bassoon quintet, Harri Ahmas demonstrates that it is not only justified but necessary.
Ahmas weaves the strings and the bassoon together as a practicing musician rather than as a theorist. That is the source of the work’s appeal and its immediately engaging character. Rarely have I heard, for example, a glissando leap work so naturally and directly as an authentic part of the musical language.”
US 9.3.1989 / Jukka Määttänen
“Among the compositions mentioned earlier, Harri Ahmas’s premiere, Duetto for Bassoon and Harp, shone like the North Star in the night sky. The piece, unfolding in three distinct layers, was a captivating mix of “normal” material, multiphonics, and free-flowing rhythms. Performers Juhani Tapaninen (bassoon) and Mikko Leistola (harp) truly stood out, bringing forth intriguing tonal colors and an immense energy that ultimately resolved into the harp’s final diminuendo.
Based on what I’ve heard, Harri Ahmas comes across as a composer who deserves serious attention. He clearly has something to express, and he possesses the method to bring it to life—making him someone well worth listening to!”
TS. 21.3.1989 / Osmo Tapio Räihälä
Based on what I’ve heard, Harri Ahmas comes across as a composer who deserves serious attention. He clearly has something to express, and he possesses the method to bring it to life—making him someone well worth listening to!”
TS. 21.3.1989 / Osmo Tapio Räihälä
Harri Ahmas’ new work Von kräftigen Schlägen bis zum leichten Streifen was more forceful and colorful than Räihälä’s music. Above all, the rhythm was more intense and included connections to rock and jazz.
Ahmas’ music has the potential to reach a wider audience, as it is approachable in a good way. He knows how to maintain tension, tell a story, and the work reminded one of hard-boiled American detective stories.
HS. 15.8.1998 / Kaisa Iitti
Ahmas’ music has the potential to reach a wider audience, as it is approachable in a good way. He knows how to maintain tension, tell a story, and the work reminded one of hard-boiled American detective stories.
HS. 15.8.1998 / Kaisa Iitti