I've re-examined his late works with fresh ears in preparing for this composition, to create music that leads naturally to the amazing opening of the Ninth Symphony but which can also have an independent life of its own."
He continued, "Rather than quotations, I've embedded a number of Beethovenian allusions, so there are clear aural links, and the orchestration matches the symphony, so it will have a period colour without harp, piano, and exotic percussion that feature in many of my works.
Reviewing the world premiere, Richard Fairman of the Financial Times wrote, "At about 15 minutes, the work offers a luminescent short journey through terrain familiar from Ravel and Respighi, like a widescreen travelogue filmed with saturated colours through a high-performance lens.
"[2] Erica Jeal of The Guardian also praised the piece, opining, "It's the iconic first gesture of the symphony – that falling figure tracing the sparest possible harmony – that is a recurring motif in Lindberg's score, glimpsed through whirling violins at the opening, and cutting through the almost Mahlerian textures several times thereafter.
Ivan Hewett of The Daily Telegraph was more critical of the music, however, writing, "On paper, his idea of taking key phrases from Beethoven's piece, such as the thrilling opening with its sense of huge beckoning spaces, and leading them into his own richly coloured, swirling orchestral world seemed promising.
Other than the final change of direction towards where Beethoven's symphony so radically starts, the only sounds audibly homaged in the Lindberg premiere were those of early 20th century French scores, ravishingly delivered by the London Philharmonic strings in multi-divided chords.