A Northumbrian Anthem, an update


That contemporary music has distanced itself from society is a frequent contention. That society has given up on new music is the obverse claim. 

A simplistic view would be that educated composers have secluded themselves in ivory towers where rarified music is heard by a few connoisseurs, mostly other composers. They compose for themselves and for each other, and they regard any concession to the public taste as a betrayal of high art’s precepts. This, of course, is an unhealthy state of affairs, and the remedy for it is for composers to write accessible music that is designed to be heard by a general audience.

At the other end, an equally simplistic view would be that concert audiences and concert promoters have become lazy, philistine and averse to risk, as a result of which concert programmes have become conservative, excluding music written in the last century. This is seen as a symptom of a decaying society, spread by the contagion of easy consumerism. A healthy reaction to this is for composers to keep their integrity before adversity, adhering unyieldingly to their aesthetic values in the face of the incomprehension of audiences or promoters. 

These simplistic views have no shortage of proponents, but most intelligent people on both sides would take a more nuanced approach. This is not the blog entry where I intend to discuss the issue in depth. Will I ever? I expect I will, but not just yet. Sitting on the fence would be an evasion; coming out in favour of one contention or its opposite would give the growing number of my detractors even more rope with which to hang me. 

Today I mention the above debate only by way of context. Regardless of where one stands as a composer, it is a fact that there are times when a piece or project demands that one engages with the audience more directly than may be one’s habit. That is the nature of some projects. If one doesn’t like it, one is free to pass the opportunity up. If one accepts it, one has to deliver. It would be difficult to imagine Boulez, Ferneyhough or Barrett agreeing to be involved in such a project. But for those of us who, as well as wanting to keep challenging standards of rigour and innovation also want to keep a dialogue with society going, the ‘direct engagement’ proposition is appealing. 

In this particular case, the proposal came from a Source it is usually impossible to say no to. The piece needed to be short, simple, accessible to a general audience, with a positive feeling and - this was the key descriptor - anthemic. It was to be for organ. The fact that there was a commission fee, but that, in keeping with the spirit of the occasion, it was suggested that I should donate it to charity, made the challenge more quixotic and, for that reason, more appealing. 

After accepting the commission, I confess to feeling a great deal of trepidation. I am no stranger to diatonic, tonal, singable writing. I had done lots of it for my friends in Bolivia, chiefly the choirs at Instituto Laredo in Cochabamba.

Choral writing is a time to be tonal. This used to be a contentious notion, but the best-known composers currently producing for the medium in England and Scotland seem to accept it. Through familiarity with the people and their music (say, Tavener, Weir, Casken, MacMillan) one can feel surrounded by a relevant context. To be anthemic in that framework would be, for the composer, a natural extension, a question of channelling the available means in a particular direction, a point of focus. 

But the organ? Having never done it before, I felt the sheer fact of writing for the instrument was a steep enough challenge. And then, what was the contemporary context for organ writing with an anthemic character? I found an inspiring precedent in a work by the young Romanian composer Alexandru Murariu, Espaces IV Spezzati. Written for double choir and (single) organ, this beautiful piece is stirring indeed. In terms of the number and density of the notes it probably has the right degree of simplicity for my ‘anthemic’ challenge. But the aesthetic breadth of Murariu’s statement is on a grander scale than I understood my commission to require. Much as I enjoy listening to that piece, for my project a more demotic approach was required, one that would engage a diverse audience on more than one level of perception: accessible on the surface, melodious to the point of hummability, and also solidly constructed and standing up to analytical scrutiny. 

Is it possible for a composer to write something that will stir a community in and 'anthemic' way and to remain true to oneself, avoiding a pastiche of old masters of the anthem - Walton, Elgar, even more ancient precedents? Would my own youthful and not so youthful anthemic vein, hitherto for Latin American consumption, be applicable to this project? Would I be able to manipulate these stylistic parameters to articulate the right statement? These and other questions preoccupied me, delaying the start of composition.  

In the meantime, events of a life-changing magnitude supervened. From one day to the next, I woke up to a new reality where it was not possible to know whether anything could go ahead as planned. I fought hard to salvage as much as I could, at least the things over which I had some control. The pieces I had committed to write were among the battles to be fought, and I fought them to the death. In the hardest conditions ever, I wrote every one of them. A Northumbrian Anthem was completed as requested. I honoured my part of the deal.  

Tonight should have been the première. Whether it went ahead, I do not know. What I offer here is - oh, yet again - a computer simulation. 



Momenta in Bolivia


The Momenta Quartet have been among my main collaborators for quite some time. In 1997 they gave the first performance of my String Quartet No. 1 ‘Montes’ at Rock Hall Auditorium, Philadelphia, and they went on playing the piece many times since. In 2008 they visited Newcastle, playing ‘Montes’ at the ¡Vamos! Festival and at King’s Hall.

Years later, Momenta successfully applied for a Koussevitzky commission for what was to become my String Quartet No. 2, ‘Sin tiempo’, which they premièred in 2013 at Williams College, Williamstown, Massachusetts, and this work too became part of their repertoire. A highlight was their performance of ‘Sin tiempo’ as part of the 2017 Momenta Festival at the Americas Society, a performance which attracted much attention and heart-warming reactions from the press.

A visit to Bolivia by Momenta was long overdue. Over the years I repeated spoke to relevant institutions in the hope of arousing their interest in a Momenta project. It was only when I eventually approached the USA Embassy in La Paz that I met a receptive response. In retrospect it seems odd that I did not think of them in the first place.   

So it was that Momenta came to Bolivia in October 2018. The project included working with the students at Instituto Laredo coaching the strings of the Laredo Youth Orchestra, giving a concert as a string quartet and taking part in an orchestral programme as soloists and as members of the string section. 


The chamber concert took place on 24 October at the beautiful church of Convento Santa Teresa, which has been lovingly restored with funding from the USA Embassy. The programme consisted of works by living composers from the USA and my ‘Sin tiempo’. Admission was free. The public began to queue up about an hour in advance, and by the time we were due to start there were so many people standing in the aisles and in the atrium that many were unable to get in and had to go home. 

Momenta gave a spirited rendition of Eric Nathan’s Four to One, of Philip Glass’s String Quartet No. 2 ‘Company’, of Roberto Sierra’s String Quartet No. 2 and of my String Quartet No. 2 ‘Sin tiempo’. These works proved an excellent choice for the occasion, and the audience surprised us by staying put till the end of a not undemanding programme of contemporary music. 

As to ‘Sin tiempo’, it may be because over the years Momenta have grown to know my work deeply, or because they were in my home country and hometown, playing within thirty metres of the spot where I was born, or because they were playing in a beautiful church to a rapt and numerous audience, or because of a combination of some or all of these factors. The fact is that they played magnificently. Rarely, if ever, have I heard my own music performed to such standard of perfection and commitment. This was one of life’s most rewarding musical experiences. 

The next two days Momenta were soloists in an orchestral programme at the theatre of Instituto Laredo. The conductor was Alejandro Posada, a maestro with an international career who had been invited for the occasion by Fundación Bravura. The same foundation had invited three Venezuelan musicians, members of Orquesta Juvenil Simón Bolívar, to take part in the project. They played one of Vivaldi's Concerti Grossi, Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante and Mozart’s Symphony No. 41 ‘Jupiter’. This orchestral experience was a logical continuation of last year’s Beethoven programme which I had prepared and conducted in August 2017. It was reassuring to see that the orchestral standard continues to rise at Laredo and that the recurrence of international projects involving visiting professionals is producing the desired results. Momenta shone in the Vivaldi in the Mozart, gaining many admirers among the orchestra members and the audience. 

Throughout the week there were rehearsals and masterclasses, enabling Momenta to leave a lasting mark in the development of all the young people with whom they interacted. 



To say that Momenta in Bolivia was a success would be an understatement. It was a truly inspirational and developmental experience for many, bringing audiences and students in Cochabamba into contact with excellent music and musicians from the USA, enabling students to improve their technique and musicianship, and making it possible for a Bolivian composer such as I to interact at a high level with his native audience. 

Thanks are due to Instituto Laredo, which is now the main driving force for music in Cochabamba, to the Embassy of the United States in Bolivia for their generous and determined support, to Fundación Bravura for seizing the moment to enhance this project with the presence of an outstanding conductor of international profile and of three young Venezuelan professionals whose contribution as performers and coaches was very noticeable and enjoyable. 

To the four members of Momenta, Emilie-Anne Gendron, Alex Shiozaki, Stephanie Griffin and Michael Haas, there are no words to thank them and congratulate them. They were outstanding in every respect, and they have left a trail of admiration and respect among those who heard them and those who worked with them.  

Première of LoA at Sage Gateshead

I was not able to attend the première of LoA on 22 September. The reports are heartening, both about how the piece was performed and about the reception by the audience.

A première is a difficult thing to miss and this one in particular was special in a number of ways. It is an intensely personal piece, condensing in ten minutes many of the experiences, thoughts and feelings accumulated over twenty-three years of life, work and love in the Northeast of England. The tune Lads of Alnwick, which underlies LoA, followed me around for much of this time, energising me with its enigmatic drive and epitomising in my mind the emblematic role Kathryn Tickell plays in upholding this region's heritage and cultural force. LoA also represents a triumph over adversity, both in terms of the disabled musicians' belief-defying achievement and of my being able to write the piece in rather difficult circumstances.

I thank Sage Gateshead for the commission, the players of Royal Northern Sinfonia for pouring their musicianship into this music, and the four guest musicians Clarence Adoo, Adrian Lee, Gem Lunt and Stephanie West. I hope to hear the piece before too long.

Meanwhile, here is the usual consolation in the form of a computer simulation. This is the version for ten instruments, which replaces the perhaps unrepeatable - or at least hard to repeat - combination that included Clarence Adoo's unique Head Space instrument.



A Northumbrian Anthem

Yesterday saw the completion of A Northumbrian Anthem, a five-minute piece for organ. It was written to specific requirements which I hope to have fulfilled to the letter. 

The brief may have seemed restrictive to start with, but in the event it proved a more than suitable vehicle for what is now an anthem of love, gratitude and hope. 

A computer simulation will be released on the date designated for the première, 23 November.   

LoA

I report completion of LoA, a ten-minute chamber piece for nine instruments (Head Space, Oboe/cor anglais, Soprano/alto saxophone, Lever harp, Electric guitar, Violin, Viola, Cello, Double bass).

This is a commission from North Music Trust as part of the celebrations of the 60th anniversary of Royal Northern Sinfonia. The première is scheduled for 22 September 2018 in Sage Two, Sage Gateshead, by RNS players and guests.

The programme notes are available in the relevant part of this blog.

There is also an alternative version of this piece for ten instruments, with a trumpet and a bassoon replacing the rather unique Head Space, and instrument which has been developed for the specific requirements of the extraordinary musician Clarence Adoo.

Sigismund Toduță Festival 2018


With some delay I write a few lines on this year’s Sigismund Toduță Festival, which took place from 11 to 17 May in Cluj-Napoca. This year’s was my third visit to the Festival.


The Festival is an impressive display of organisation by the staff at Academia de Muzică Gheorghe Dima, with strong support from a group of students in musicology and music management. They have established a tradition of running an international conference in parallel to a programme of concerts and masterclasses. The performers are staff and students from the Academy. The participants in the conference are staff and guests from other parts of Romania and from abroad. The programmes have a predominance of contemporary Romanian music, not excluding their own, that is, music by professors, graduates and students from the Gheorghe Dima.

My links with Romania, which I consider an important part of my life, hinge on the connection with the Sigismund Toduță Festival. (The relationship with the National Music University of Bucharest is less assiduous, although much valued too). Every time I go to Cluj I find new reasons to be impressed and grateful. This time the Festival had the good grace to recommend that the Academy award me an honorary doctorate, and the Academy had the good grace to agree.


The conferral took place in a short and tasteful ceremony on 15 May in the AMGD Hall. The wonderful composer Adrian Pop, a professor at the Academy, read the citation – referred to in Romanian by its Latin name, laudatio. This was an impressively well-researched outline of my life and career, prepared with no previous consultation with me. I had known Adrian Pop as an exceptionally gifted composer and, through the work of his disciples, as an inspirational teacher. As he expatiated on me, I was overcome by admiration for his gifts as a researcher too. Even the most loyal reader of this blog will agree that to prepare a lecture on me is not a simple matter of searching in one’s local library.

The ceremony was well organised and it ran smoothly. A group of staff and students were in attendance - people who, over the years, I have grown to esteem and like.    

The following day, a work of mine was performed by Jubilate Choir under Mihaela Cesa-Goje. The work is Tres canciones sobre poemas de Rachel, composed in 1976. In my previous visit to Cluj, they had chosen Notes from Underground and they had assigned the impressive Cappella Transylvannica and baritone Christian Hodrea to the task. Composed in 2016, Notes from Underground was then my most recent piece. There are forty years between these two works. If there is a hidden meaning to this neat symmetry I am yet to uncover it; it may just be  an elegant, but wholly accidental quirk of life, with no hidden meaning.

The concert on 16 May was also an opportunity to hear another work by the prolific Alexandru Murariu, Espaces IV. This is a beautifully crafted antiphony for choir and organ, which worked very effectively in the reverberant space of Cluj’s Piarist Church. 
Together with Sebastian Țună – with whom I also had the opportunity to become better acquainted – Murariu brings an injection of freshness and creativity to new music in Romania. I have faith that these two young composers’ sphere of action will spread; they deserve a wider audience.





Leaving Cluj felt harder this time. In my last few hours there I completed a valedictory message I had started in 2016 and I put it up on social media - and on this blog - as a parting present. A few days later, a talented student at the Academy, Edith Gergely, prepared a Romanian translation. I reproduce it below with her permission.



 
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