Although born the same year as Sibelius, Carl Nielsen was starting to forge new paths at the same time that the great Finn decided to call it a day and enjoy a long retirement. This makes the Dane's death at 66 seem all the more premature when one looks at the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies, Commotio for organ, and the Flute and Clarinet Concertos. There could hardly be any further proof needed that Nielsen was a composer of the twentieth century despite his chronological grouping with the Post-Romantics. The last-mentioned work (1928) in particular is an uncompromising yet rewarding work to know, the fruit of a mind that remained inquisitive and daring to the end. Always seeming to display an uncanny understanding of each medium in which he worked, here too Nielsen seems to crawl inside of the instrument and stretch its capabilities; one soloist commented on the present work that the composer must have played the clarinet because of his tendency to find its most difficult notes. This challenge, as well as the frequently improvisatory quality of the soloist's part, indicate why such musicians as the late Benny Goodman "crossed lines" to tackle this concerto.

The work is in one movement, although musicologists generally discern four linked ones. The twisting yet leisurely opening theme in F is stated in the cellos and basses and is soon picked up and embellished by the soloist. In line with Nielsen's customary love of key combat, the orchestra seems to resent the clarinet's intrusion and tries to reinstate the theme in the proximate-yet-distant key of E. A more lyrical second theme emerges in the dominant key of C but the snare drum soon disrupts this, recalling that effective use of the percussion instrument in the Fifth Symphony. An incisive cadenza by the soloist precedes the recapitulation in which the key conflict continues. This is followed by what would pass for a slow movement, brooding and dominated by the horn (it is interesting to note that Nielsen gives important "supporting roles" to other instruments, even in a concerto). Presently the snare drum instigates a turbulent passage as the clarinet seems to inveigh against it in its highest register. This subsides to adagio again but shortly leads to a scherzo-like passage in 3/8 time which alternates a rapid chromatic perpetuum mobile with a slower but highly syncopated second subject. The latter is then taken up by the clarinet who "improvises" wildly upon it, interacting with the rest of the orchestra. This extended and active dialog subsides and changes to duple time; a long unwinding melody in the bassoon, which is transformed into a cadenza by the soloist, marks a transition to the finale. The snare-drum announces a "ten-hut!" as it were, and the clarinet intones a lively yet angular theme which is in turn picked up by the various strings. A more relaxed second subject follows, this in turn followed by a remembrance of the scherzo's second theme; the clarinet takes this up and another dialog between the soloist and orchestra develops. Presently the soloist branches off to make this an accompaniment to the restatement of the finale's main theme, now stated by the violins. This passage reaches a powerful climax with the clarinet sounding its highest notes. A subsiding pianissimo leads to the coda. The soloist makes a passing reference to the adagio; then the strings sensitively transform the finale's main theme. The soloist intones a few wistful, nebulous notes as the work seems to lightly touch down to its conclusion.

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