Oliver Knussen 50th birthday concert, Snape Maltings Concert Hall, Snape, Suffolk

The 55th Aldeburgh Festival came to an end on Sunday appropriately, with a fizz and a bang – another birthday tribute to Oliver Knussen, who's only five years younger than the festival.

My feeling is that Knussen has been 50 for a long while, so great has his influence been at home and abroad. Aldeburgh palpably felt like Tanglewood – a Knussen haunt – as cars drove bumper to bumper in the afternoon sun. But the real warmth of response to the festival's final concert, which he conducted, reminded us that it was not the US: there was no Pavlovian jumping to the feet, but obvious approval for a spontaneous "Happy Birthday" from the BBC Symphony Orchestra, neatly upsetting Knussen's "now-it's-your-turn" singling out of individual members and sections for applause.

Stravinsky's Fireworks was a marvellous opener with all the hallmarks of The Firebird – which it just pre-dates – of magical strings, wind, harp and percussion. How well Knussen's own Flourish with Fireworks picks up on the Stravinsky colours, while retaining its own poise and structure. Both sounded as if written for an orchestra of great confidence.

Confidence appeared in abundance from Fred Sherry – he might be called the laughing cellist – as he rose to the occasion of presenting the first European performance of Elliott Carter's Cello Concerto, written in 2000. This is a work of formidable difficulty for the soloist, but we learn that Sherry was frequently consulted by Carter and the result appears to be a hand-in-glove affair. Like his recent concertos, Carter's new work is divided into a number of sections, although the piece – just over 20 minutes in duration – plays without break. It's masterfully written, the cello never swamped – Carter plays to its strengths with spread chords, lyrical lines and fast passage work – while the orchestral textures are clear and transparent. Unusually for Carter, it's easy on the ear and will surely establish a place in the repertoire quickly.

Rosemary Hardy, a veteran of Knussen's Sendak operas, was the sweet sounding soloist in his Whitman Settings – even if the words were largely inaudible; alas, no texts were provided.

And then came Knussen's present to himself: conducting his first Rite of Spring. The BBC Symphony Orchestra eagerly responded to Knussen's understated control. The bassoon's lazy savouring of its opening improvisatory melody showed Knussen allowing space. Knussen, minutely acute to Stravinsky's remarkable colours (just when was a contra-bassoon so rude?) and dynamic markings (yes, there are quiet notes) made this demonic work sound freshly minted, especially (at Knussen's insistence) with Stravinsky's revoiced "Danse sacrale".