Judith Weir's Tiger under the Table, premièred by the London Sinfonietta under Thomas Adès in March 2003, is a reference to an exceptional energy in the lower registers, exemplified by an angry bassoon and twanging double bass. The gruff and dark-hued emphasis on the bass line in the opening section is in stark contrast to the typically bright and shiny ‘Judith Weir sound’ as exemplified by Moon and Star and the Piano Concerto, for example. The feeling of an underground upheaval recalls, rather, the ominous stringed-instrument slapping from the fifth movement of Weir's We Are Shadows. A heavenly string quartet offers repose: as in Vaughan Williams's Tallis Fantasia, it operates on a different plane from the rest of the ensemble. There ensues a quick parade of trios and quartets made up of unlikely combinations, including an ill-fated attempt to form a piano concerto. Finally, all 14 players join together and the composer truly becomes herself again in a witty and jazzy coda of prodigious invention. The pointillism here is engagingly full of heart. Glissandi threaten to destabilie the structure, but the work ends optimistically, with a warm unison.