Classical music’s climate reckoning and UK’s North Sea oil dilemma

London’s Royal Albert Hall rarely hosts laughter during a Proms concert, but last night’s pairing of Francis Poulenc’s Concerto for Two Pianos with John Adams’ Harmonium achieved just that. Under the baton of Kazuki Yamada, the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (CBSO) delivered a performance that was by turns witty, thrilling, and monumentally moving—proof, if any were needed, that classical music can still surprise. Yet beyond the applause, the evening carried a quieter resonance: the growing tension between culture’s emotional power and its environmental footprint. As orchestras grapple with touring logistics in an era of climate disruption, and composers increasingly engage with ecological themes, the question of how art responds to crisis is no longer abstract. It’s a practical dilemma, one that pits creative ambition against carbon budgets.

The same week, that dilemma took on a political dimension. A coalition of climate scientists who helped draft Greater Manchester’s 2038 carbon-neutral pledge has written to Prime Minister Andy Burnham, urging him to reject new North Sea oil drilling. The letter, seen by The Guardian, argues that backtracking on his own climate commitments would send a “devastating signal” as wildfires rage across Europe and UK heatwave deaths rise. Burnham, who as mayor championed one of Britain’s most ambitious local climate plans, now faces a test of consistency. His government’s stance on North Sea licences—expected within weeks—will reveal whether the UK’s energy transition is accelerating or stalling.

When minimalism meets wit: how Poulenc and Adams redefined the Proms

The CBSO’s performance of Harmonium, Adams’ 1980 choral masterpiece, was a revelation. Scored for large orchestra and chorus, the work sets texts by Emily Dickinson and John Donne, exploring themes of love, death, and transcendence. Its hypnotic repetitions and swelling harmonies have made it a staple of American minimalism, but last night’s interpretation—led by Yamada and the CBSO Chorus—emphasised its emotional volatility. The final movement, Wild Nights, built to a shattering climax, leaving the Albert Hall audience breathless. Yet the evening’s most striking moment came not from Adams, but from Poulenc. The French composer’s Concerto for Two Pianos, performed by brothers Lucas and Arthur Jussen, was a masterclass in playful precision. Poulenc’s music, with its sudden shifts from melancholy to mischief, has long been celebrated for its wit. But last night, it also served as a reminder: classical music’s ability to provoke laughter is as vital as its capacity to move.

The juxtaposition of the two works was deliberate. Yamada, the CBSO’s chief conductor, has spoken publicly about the need for orchestras to engage with contemporary concerns, including climate change. While neither Harmonium nor Poulenc’s concerto addresses environmental themes directly, the programming reflected a broader trend: ensembles are increasingly using their platforms to highlight ecological issues. The BBC Proms, for instance, has introduced carbon-neutral touring policies for visiting orchestras, and last year’s festival featured a commission by composer Anna Thorvaldsdottir, whose work Aerial evokes melting glaciers. For Yamada, the pairing was less about explicit messaging than about demonstrating music’s power to hold contradictions—joy and sorrow, humour and gravity—in tension.

That tension is becoming harder to ignore. The UK’s classical music sector, like the arts more broadly, is under pressure to reduce its environmental impact. Touring, a lifeline for orchestras, is carbon-intensive, and venues are grappling with how to balance artistic ambition with sustainability. The Royal Albert Hall, for example, has installed solar panels and switched to renewable energy suppliers, but its international draw means that air travel remains a significant emissions source. Meanwhile, composers are responding to the crisis in their work. Adams himself has written pieces addressing climate change, including The Gospel According to the Other Mary, which includes references to environmental degradation. The question for orchestras is no longer whether to engage, but how.

Burnham’s climate test: can the UK’s local success scale nationally?

The letter to Andy Burnham from climate scientists presents a stark challenge. As mayor of Greater Manchester, Burnham launched a climate plan in 2019 that aimed for carbon neutrality by 2038—12 years ahead of the UK’s national target. The plan, developed with input from the Tyndall Centre for Climate Change Research, included ambitious measures on housing retrofits, public transport expansion, and renewable energy adoption. It was hailed as a model for local government action, and Burnham’s elevation to prime minister last month raised hopes that his approach might inform national policy.

Yet his government’s stance on North Sea oil has cast doubt on that prospect. The UK’s offshore oil and gas industry, centred in the North Sea, remains a contentious issue. While the previous Conservative government issued new drilling licences, Labour’s 2024 manifesto pledged to “manage” the North Sea’s decline, stopping short of an outright ban. Burnham’s advisors have suggested that new licences could be approved if they meet strict environmental criteria, a position that has drawn criticism from scientists and activists. The letter, signed by researchers who worked on Manchester’s climate plan, warns that any new drilling would undermine the UK’s credibility on climate action. “The science is clear,” it states. “Every new oil and gas project locks in further emissions and delays the transition we desperately need.”

The North Sea dilemma is emblematic of a broader tension in UK climate policy. On one hand, the country has made progress: coal use has plummeted, offshore wind capacity has surged, and the Bank of England’s recent ban on coal bonds has sent a strong signal to financial markets. On the other, the UK remains Europe’s largest producer of oil and gas, and the government has faced criticism for approving new projects like the Rosebank oil field. For Burnham, the choice is fraught. His political base includes former industrial heartlands where oil and gas jobs are still a lifeline, but his climate credentials rest on his record in Manchester. The scientists’ letter frames the decision as a test of integrity: “You cannot claim leadership on climate while expanding fossil fuel production.”

The stakes extend beyond the UK. The World Bank, where Burnham’s foreign secretary Ed Miliband has taken a seat on the board, is under pressure from developing nations to reform its lending practices. Miliband’s move—unusual for a foreign secretary—signals a shift in UK priorities. In an interview with The Guardian, he indicated that climate and development would be central to his tenure, suggesting that the UK could push for changes to the bank’s approach to fossil fuel financing. “The World Bank has a critical role to play in supporting countries through the energy transition,” Miliband said. “But that means aligning its investments with the Paris Agreement, not locking in dependency on oil and gas.” His comments come as the bank faces calls to end its support for fossil fuel projects, a demand that has gained traction amid growing evidence of climate-related economic risks.

What’s at stake: culture, policy, and the climate reckoning

The convergence of these two stories—one cultural, one political—highlights a broader shift. As the climate crisis deepens, its impact is being felt not just in policy debates, but in the arts. Orchestras, galleries, and theatres are increasingly reckoning with their own environmental footprints, while artists are using their platforms to challenge complacency. The CBSO’s performance last night was a reminder that classical music, often seen as a bastion of tradition, is not immune to these pressures. Meanwhile, Burnham’s decision on North Sea drilling will set the tone for the UK’s climate ambitions under his premiership.

For the arts, the challenge is twofold. First, there’s the practical question of how to reduce emissions without sacrificing artistic excellence. The BBC Proms’ carbon-neutral touring policy is a step in the right direction, but it’s a drop in the ocean compared to the scale of the problem. Second, there’s the question of how art can engage with climate change without becoming didactic. Poulenc’s wit and Adams’ epic sweep offer a model: music that provokes thought and emotion, without preaching.

For policy, the stakes are even higher. The UK’s climate targets are among the most ambitious in the world, but they require bold action. The scientists’ letter to Burnham is a plea for consistency: if the UK is serious about leading on climate, it cannot expand fossil fuel production. The North Sea decision will be a litmus test, not just for Burnham, but for the country’s commitment to a sustainable future.

What’s clear is that the climate crisis is no longer a distant threat. It’s here, reshaping everything from the music we listen to, to the energy we use. The question is whether culture and policy can rise to the challenge—or whether they’ll be left playing catch-up.