Getting people interested in New Music is not a new problem. Kettle’s Yard has tackled the issue this year with an exciting and accessible programme of concerts put together by New Music Associate Stephen Montague. Back at the start of Michaelmas, things looked extremely promising, with Montague leading an entranced student audience in a souped-up, experimental rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. Was this the dawn of a new era? Inevitably student numbers have dwindled since, and although the turn-out is certainly not impoverished, Montague’s latest concert really deserved a few more faces.

Kettle’s Yard could not want a better figurehead for New Music. Montague himself is full of charisma, and this showcase evening revealed that his music is equally so. My prior conceptions consisted of a smattering of apocryphal accounts of his work: food fights, motorcycles, herds of sheep ... Not for this venue, unfortunately. And whilst it’s arguably easy to create intrigue when writing for farm animals or World Superbike Champions, the music on display here demonstrated that Montague is about more than wacky experimentalism. His style is appealing through and through, and manages to remain so without drifting into unintelligible heights or descending to cheap gimmicks. From the folk-inspired to the tape-enhanced, from pyrotechnic piano writing to the ethereal use of live electronics, Montague creates fascinating musical textures, spiked with the occasional surprise.

Then why three stars? It seems that a common problem in much contemporary music is that, whilst superficially fun, it can be fiendishly difficult to pull off. This is not to say that all the right ingredients weren’t there - pianist Philip Mead, Montague’s partner in crime, has an impressive biography, whilst Cambridge University New Music Ensemble is bursting with fresh talent. Yet the whole affair lacked sparkle. In ‘The Hammer Hawk’ (2002), a piece composed specifically for far more amateur musicians, too much score-staring and a lack of engagement produced a rather dulled effect, at odds with the lively programme note: “it [the mythical Hammer Hawk] swooped from the heavens like a thunderbolt - lightening flashed in its wake, the ground shook”. Certain players had the right idea, but some simply looked bored. Meanwhile, Mead was too frequently overwhelmed by Montague’s difficult pianism, particularly in some of the more hair-raising movements from ‘After Ives...’ (1991 - 3). With a little more conviction, this set of Americanisms could have been truly dazzling - particularly if Mead’s eloquent rendition of ‘Southern Lament’ (1997) was anything to go by.

In all, this concert simply needed more - a bigger audience, a more spirited performance, a little more spectacle and, perhaps, simply more space. As cosy as Kettle’s Yard is, at times the music seemed to cry out for a bigger venue - I found myself flippantly picturing the Super Bowl. My advice: go and hear Montague while he’s still on your doorstep.