Composers of the Month: Gavin Bryars & Craig Vear

Craig Vear works with found sounds, making compositions using computers that allow the individual sounds to be free. His compositions generally concentrate on a time and location, journeying along channels of memory and imagination expressing the continuity and fluidity of thought.

In 1997 he co-founded the pop group Cousteau, which made 300,000 sales worldwide and gained a gold disc; as part of the duo ev2 he has been working with improvisation since 1992. During 2003-4 he held the Arts Council England Fellowship with the British Antarctic Survey, which resulted in a large-scale composition created from field recordings. In 2006 Play: Antarctica was commissioned about these experiences. He is currently a Senior Lecturer at De Montfort University.

Gavin Bryars studied philosophy but became a jazz bassist and pioneer of free improvisation with Derek Bailey and Tony Oxley. Early iconic pieces The Sinking of the Titanic and Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet achieved great popular success.

His works include three operas, a large body of chamber music, several concertos and much vocal music (Hilliard Ensemble, Trio Mediaeval, Red Byrd, Latvian Radio Choir, Estonian National Male Choir, Iarla O'Lionaird, Singer Pur). He has collaborated widely with visual artists (e.g. Juan Muñoz, Bruce McLean), choreographers (e.g. William Forsythe, Merce Cunningham, Edouard Lock, David Dawson), and theatre directors (e.g. Robert Wilson, Atom Egoyan). Upcoming works include a full length ballet, Pneuma, created with choreographer Carolyn Carlson for the Ballet of the Opéra National de Bordeaux, to premiere in March 2014.

Craig Vear’s Three Last Letters (In Memoriam of Cpt Scott, Dr Wilson and Lt Bowers will be performed at the next LM concert on Saturday 1^st March, alongside the premiere of a Late Music commission by Gavin Bryars.

Steve Crowther: Can you describe your work to us?
Gavin Bryars: It's a short trio for bass clarinet, electric guitar and cello, written for three musicians, who I know, whom I like personally and whose work I admire. I've based the piece on reminiscences of trio vocal laude, allied to a sort of homage to the recently deceased Fred Katz who, unlike almost all other jazz cellists, did not step down from the double bass. This reference appears in the short interludes between the mains sections of the piece.

Craig Vear: I describe works of this nature as ‘Plays for Musicians’ in so far as there is a central dramaturgical form that is played out through music. In this case it reimagines the final moments in the mind of Capt Scott as he awaits his death, alone, in a tent in Antarctica. The piece was commissioned by Vale of Glamorgan Festival 2012. The ensemble comprises several groupings of musical forces that are in 3: each alluding to a relationship with the 3 men in the tent: Capt Scot, Dr Wilson and Lt Bowers. The human trios comprise 3 voices, who in themselves do not directly link with the three men, but rather identify certain characteristics shared by all three. These 3 voices work with 3 instruments which again allude to other characteristics. Each are guided through the piece by 3 networked laptops, who are in constant discussion about the ongoing generative visual scores and soundscapes. On a poetic level, the soundscape also features a pre-recorded ghost string trio, which represents the three women whom were the intended recipients our heroes’ last letters.

SC: Do you write at the piano, do you pre-plan? Can you describe the compositional process?

GB: I don't write at the piano and have always worked with pencil and paper - and for the last 32 years with the same make of pencil. I have an electric keyboard, a Korg M1 to the left of my writing desk, set on the internal string setting (number 27) that I use to check that what I am writing is indeed what I think it is...

CV: No – all the composing for this work was conceptual, and relied on a balance of materials and speculations about the nature of the death of the central characters. This is a similar process to all my other pieces. Through this, the drawing together of the found materials, the computer programming and the devising process with the live musicians, work towards the imagined theatre-in-the-mind of the work.

SC: Is it important to know the performers? Do you write with a sound in mind?

GB: I prefer to know the performers wherever possible and for that reason have maintained my own ensemble for many years. Roger Heaton has been with my ensemble since 1986, James Woodrow since 1993, and Audrey Riley has performed Biped, the score I wrote for Merce Cunningham, with James and with me for the last 12 years or so as well as playing with my ensemble more and more in recent years. I have their individual and collective sounds in mind when I write for them, as indeed I do when I write for musicians I don't know personally.

CV: Yes – this piece was created specifically for these performers.

SC: How would you describe your individual ‘sound world’?

GB: I don't think I can.

CV: It depends very much on the focus of the composition. For example, Audrey Riley has commissioned a hypermedia concerto for cello and digital technologies, and is based on Boris Vian’s Blues for a Black Cat. The sound world (if that's what we are to call it) of each movement is an imaginary romp around each short story, whilst the whole concerto, has another flavour derived from all 10 movements.

SC: What motivates you to compose?

GB: It's what I do, and it's what I can do well. I relish the opportunity to perform music, which I see as a supremely important social activity, and writing it can make that happen.

CV: To create work that I have never heard before.

SC: Which living composers do you identify with or simply admire?

GB: I don't identify with any composer and there are none who I admire without reservation. Arvo Pärt is a good friend and I like a lot of his work, though not all of it. I have always loved the work of Carla Bley, another friend, whose work is uneven but at its best extraordinary.

CV: I’m not sure that I do, however, I have several who have remained a presence within my ‘committee’ (the incessant self-reflection and doubt in the voices of my mind). Among this committee is Gavin, whom I have known for several decades, and whose careful guidance through my undergraduate studies introduced me to jazz (especially Steve Lacy, Bill Evans, Jackie McLean, Eric Dolphy and many others), and to experimental music (especially Cage, Feldman, Satie, and his own work). Another permanent member is Jonathan Eato (music lecturer at the University of York), who I first met whilst an undergraduate. It is, and remains his open, caring, honest, probing, supportive, encouraging, and creative friendship that has provided the greatest sustenance to my music.

SC: If you could have a beer and a chat with any composer from the past, who would it be and why?

GB: Does it have to be beer? If it were beer it would be Richard Strauss who has written some sublime music and whose craft is peerless. I have found myself working a lot in Munich in the last couple of years and maybe beer would fit that environment. If I'm allowed to have a glass or two of wine instead then it would be Gesualdo, perhaps along with Philip Heseltine, and perhaps the wine might allow some access into their complex thought processes. I'd love to spend time with Liszt, perhaps the most generous of composers, but maybe that would not involve alcohol...

CV: Does it have to be a composer? I’d rather pick Duchamp’s brains over a beer, or maybe accept an offer for a game of chess.

SC: Now for some desert island discery – please name eight pieces of music you could not be without, and then select just one.
GB: I did record Desert Island Discs in 1998 and so those choices are on record, though I'm not sure that all of them would be completely indispensible. Eight pieces now could be:

Wagner, Parsifal; Strauss, Metamorphosen; Bill Evans, My Foolish Heart (1961 Village Vanguard); Tiny Tim, Tiptoe through the Tulips; Bach, Goldberg Variations; Eric Dolphy, God Bless the Child; Silvestrov, Diptychon; The Who, Pinball Wizard

The Bill Evans and the Wagner were included on my Desert Island Discs.

CV: Sorry to disappoint, but this has changed several times over as many days, and I am going for a cop-out. So long as the tracks are truthful, and meaningful, I don’t mind.

SC: …and a book?
GB: Glen David Gold: Carter Beats The Devil

CV: Donna Tartt: Secret History

SC: …a film?

GB: John Huston, The Misfits

CV: Kill Bill 1 & 2

SC: … and a luxury item?

GB: An oyster schucker.

CV: Having been deprived of all luxuries during my 3 months residency in Antarctica, I craved 2 things: fresh Broccoli and a warm shower. How about a warm broccoli shower? I’ll let you decide what that looks like.

Vestiges at Late Music

Vestiges is a multimedia installation comprising music, art and film and is designed to work in churches. The idea came about in discussions between myself and film-maker Annabel McCourt. Annabel has used my music in a number of her films but we had never jointly conceived a project from scratch before. Our discussions were wide-ranging. In due course we came to agree that we both love churches and we both have broad tastes in art of all types. We felt it would be worth trying to create work that ‘works with’ a church, rather than just happening to be in a church, but without the work actually being religious in any way. Rather, it is a matter of working with churches as amazing and inspiring buildings designed in part to induce contemplation. From this the idea of Vestiges was born.

We quickly decided we wanted at least two more artists involved. Artist Linda Ingham was an obvious choice because of an excellent installation entitled Heavy and Light that she had created for Grimsby Minster a few years earlier. This had certainly worked with the church. We wondered if we needed a second composer, but didn’t want to create a situation where sound bleed was an issue. However, we reflected that churches often have separate, more intimate spaces that required a different type of musical approach to my work. Once we realised this, David Lancaster was the obvious choice.

Meetings followed, venues said yes and an Arts Council bid for a short tour of Northern England churches was submitted. This was successful and Vestiges opened its tour at St Mary’s Church in Barton, where we enjoyed a truly exceptional degree of help and support from those associated with the church.

Here is a link to a short film about the opening night in Barton:

http://vimeo.com/70114144

After that, Vestiges moved to Grimsby Minster. This markedly larger church offered new possibilities and challenges. You can see a film of our time at Grimsby Minster here:

http://vimeo.com/78913401

We are looking forward to being at York's Unitarian Chapel to launch the 2014 Late Music Concert Series. The series itself is the best yet, in my humble opinion. The Unitarian Chapel is a fascinating building, markedly different to any church we have worked in before. However, as all our work is site-specific, the very difference of the Unitarian Chapel is a stimulating advantage. Do please come along on Saturday 22^nd February to see what we are up to. As well as us, there will be wine, nibbles and a chance to meet other music lovers in the run up to Late Music 2014.

After the Late Music launch, we will be taking Vestiges to the 20:21 Gallery in Scunthorpe (a converted church) where we will be part of the Museums at Night project. As 20:21 won one of the ten national artists, Vestiges will find itself rubbing shoulders with international artist Jessica Voorsanger on this occasion, which is very exciting.

For more about Vestiges, please visit:

www.vestigesofspirituality.com

For more on the four artists who make up Vestiges, please see these sites:

www.annabelmccourt.com

www.soundcloud.com/dave-power-1

www.davidcomposer.com
www.axisweb.org/p/lindaingham

- David Power

Composer of the Month: David Lancaster

David Lancaster is Head of Department: Performance at York St John University, managing Dance and Theatre degrees along with the Music and Music Production programmes.  He is composer-in-residence with Vox Aurum Chamber Choir and with the EYMS Band.

David first encountered contemporary music when as a young cornet player he took part in a performance of Harrison Birtwistle's 'Grimethorpe Aria' at a brass band summer school. Music studies at York and Cambridge Universities and at Dartington Summer School (with Peter Maxwell Davies) followed, along with a period as Composer-in-Residence at Charterhouse. He gained a number of important awards including Lloyds Bank Young Composer Award, Michael Tippett Award, LCM Centenary Prize and the Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival Composer Award; the Parke Ensemble presented a London concert series of his work.  Around 2007 he returned to composing after a long period of silence and has since produced a series of works which again attracted performances around the UK.

David’s recent work includes music for choir, string quartet and several song cycles, such as Memory of Place (which sets poetry by the York-based poet Daniela Nunnari and which has recently been issued on CD on the Meridian label).  David’s choral work Fallen, originally composed for Canterbury Cathedral, was used in a documentary made for Sky Television; more recently he has produced an electronic version of this piece as part of a collaborative arts installation project ‘Vestiges of Spirituality’ which has been presented to critical acclaim.

In November his new orchestral work ‘Strata’ will be performed by the Orchestra of Opera North under the baton of Elgar Howarth and the sax quartet ‘Swan’ – first heard at Late Music in 2010 – will be included on a national tour by the Delta Saxophone Quartet.

David’s choral pieces Fallen and Hush will be performed at the next LM concert (Saturday 5^th October) by the Manchester Chamber Choir.

Steve Crowther: Can you describe the works to us?

David Lancaster: If I could do that I probably would have become a writer or a poet and not a composer!  There are two short pieces, ‘Hush’ which is new, and ‘Fallen’ which was premiered in Canterbury Cathedral three years ago.  It was used in a documentary for Sky TV (about football, but I don’t normally tell people that).  Both make use of texts by Rumi so they work nicely as a pair, and both deal with ‘being in a state of music’.

SC: Do you write at the piano, do you pre-plan? Can you describe the compositional process?

DL: I do own a piano but only use it occasionally when composing.  I think of my music in terms of linear, lyrical lines and I fear I might lose that if I concentrate too much on the vertical, as I might do playing chords at the piano.  I compose everywhere: on the train, sitting at my PC, in the shower – so a piano isn’t always practical. And I’m a terrible pianist in any case!  There isn’t a great deal of formal pre-composition these days, but I do keep sketchbooks - Beethoven-style - and ideas evolve gradually and deliberately.  In fact there is more post-compositional work in my process: I can write quite quickly and then spend time reflecting on what I’ve done, then refining the work in terms of shape, pacing, consistency and so on.

SC: Is it important to know the performers? Do you write with a sound in mind?

DL: I do like to write for specific performers but it’s often the context which is more influential at the point of composition.  How much detail will be audible, what will the atmosphere be like, how intimate will the performance be, will it be a warm tone, will the sound distort at high volume?  But when the music is finished I hand the copies over to the performers, whoever they are, and I’m happy for them to interpret it as they think fit; I like them to take ownership of my work and show me things I didn’t know about. 

SC: How would you describe your individual ‘sound world’?

DL: I think it reflects the down-to-earth grittiness – the bleakness at times – of the place I was brought up, but also the warmth of the people around me.  I’m a little bit schizophrenic: my music often inhabits extremes of calm/desolation or energy/violence but I see them as different aspects of the same thing: I’ve recently completed an orchestral piece where the two are starkly juxtaposed.  Some people tell me that my music inhabits a very dark sound world, others tell me that they hear a black humour – and they’re probably both right!

SC: What motivates you to compose?

DL: Performances: I love the act of musical performance – its inherent ritualistic theatricality - and I particularly enjoy hearing my work come to life in rehearsal.  When I don’t have a performers’ deadline in my diary I can sometimes find it quite difficult to finish pieces.

SC: Which living composers do you identify with or simply admire?

DL:  Oh that’s difficult!  John Adams and Harrison Birtwistle, Gavin Bryars and Arvo Part.  Very different musicians but all seeming more concerned with clarity than with decoration.  But I like to discover ‘new’ composers and at Late Music concerts often find myself more drawn to the work of young or local composers which speaks with unadorned immediacy: I have a low tolerance threshold for anything that smacks of pretentiousness.

SC: If you could have a beer and a chat with any composer from the past, who would it be and why?

DL: And that’s an even harder question – there are so many to choose from and their beer drinking preferences are not always well documented.   I’d love to meet Thomas Tallis, or JS Bach, Varese, Webern or Stravinsky but I can’t imagine they’d be the best drinking partners, and Gesualdo might be risky too.  I’m going to pick Bernard Herrmann who was a fabulous composer of concert music in addition to his film scores.  I’ve always had a high regard for his music and would be fascinated to talk about his many collaborations.

SC: Now for some desert island discery – please name eight pieces of music you could not be without, and then select just one.

DL: Must I?  I don’t particularly like lists of pieces.  There was one in The Times last week – ‘20 classical pieces you must hear’ – and they missed out Purcell, Debussy, Ravel, Sibelius, Messiaen and so many other important composers and in fact everyone since Britten. The elitist notion of a ‘canon’ of ‘great works’ is surely discredited by now, since by definition it relegates everything else to some sort of artistic ‘second division’, which is ridiculous.  If we all thought like that there could be no Late Music and probably nothing this side of Classic FM.  So there are very many pieces I wouldn’t want to live without, and here are eight of them:  

1.    Stravinsky: Symphony of Psalms;

2.    Herrmann: Vertigo soundtrack;

3.    John Adams: Lollapalooza;

4.    Arvo Part: Fratres (for string quartet);

5.    Bruckner: Os Justi;

6.    Sibelius: Tapiola;

7.    Birtwistle: Grimethorpe Aria,

8.    Webern: Six Bagatelles.

And if I need to choose just one I will pick the Birtwistle, since that was the piece which first fired my passion for new music and composing, sending me on this exciting journey.

SC: …and a book?

DL:  My reading this week is probably going to be confined to ‘The Idiots’ Guide to Excel Spreadsheets’ to help with my new job, but I’m also working my way through ‘The Bridge’ by Iain Banks, one of my favourite writers who sadly died recently.

SC: That's a coincidence, I'm reading Crow Road.. and a film?

DL: Pandora’s Box, the film of Wedekind’s plays made by GW Pabst in 1929, famously starring Louise Brooks.  One of my long-term project ideas is to compose a new score to perform live, so extended exposure to the film on your desert island would be useful.

SC: … and a luxury item?

DL: I’m assuming that manuscript paper/pen is a necessity rather than a luxury item, therefore automatically included! In that case I’m torn between my camera, my bike and my box of ‘Oblique Strategies’ cards.  On reflection I think I’ll take the cards since they would offer some innovative suggestions to help tackle all of the problems I would encounter on the island, and there would be one for each day of the year so they would hopefully sustain my interest until I am rescued.

Gender and Music: Nicola LeFanu

Gender and Music: a topic that’s been in the air recently, with Vasily Petrenko’s silly comments on women conductors, and then Marin Alsop’s splendid last night of the Proms. Her spirited riposte to Petrenko, and her support for inclusivity, drew widespread applause. A few days later, the European Union ‘s WIMUST project was launched in London by MEP Mary Honeyball. This is a strategy to try and create greater gender equality in the performing arts and particularly music.

This was all in my mind when I received the September packet of leaflets for concerts in York and its region in the coming season. There is a wealth of music making, both professional and amateur, something York can be proud of. The gender statistics are not so good, though. There are only two female conductors: Margaret Griffiths directs York Opera’s Nabucco, and Jane Sturmheit directs the Chanticleer Singers.

Women composers fare badly. The extensive (and usually admirable) University series has only two represented, both programmed by young artists: the Ligeti quartet plays Gubaidulina, and Chimera ensemble plays Saariaho. Yet there are several concerts (for example of 20^th century British music) which could, and should, have been more representative. Other York concert series, whether orchestral, choral or chamber, have no music by female composers; I found only one example, Cecilia McDowell’s Canterbury Mass (Micklegate Singers.)

Late Music should therefore be congratulated on its enlightened programming. Composers who happen to be women were featured in all the 2012-2013 concerts, and commissions have been shared equally between male and female recipients.

There is no reason why female composers should be marginalised. There are plenty of us, in all generations, and writing in a range of musical idioms. It is time more of York’s excellent music groups took the trouble to discover a rich repertoire which they are currently ignoring. Equal opportunity and inclusivity in the 21^st century? I should hope so!

Nicola LeFanu

September 2013

Composer of the month: William Brooks

William Brooks studied music and mathematics at Wesleyan University (BA 1965), then received degrees in musicology (MM 1971) and composition-theory (DMA 1976) from the University of Illinois. He has been associated with John Cage as both performer and scholar; he played in the world premiere of HPSCHD and has several times directed productions of Cage’s Song Books. Brooks taught at the University of Illinois (1969-73) and at the University of California (1973-7), then worked as a freelance composer, scholar and performer before returning to the University of Illinois (1987). In 2000 he took up his present post at the University of York.

William Brooks’ new work, Tracce, will be performed at the next Late Music concert (Saturday 7^th September) by Madrigali Redux.

Steve Crowther: Can you describe the work to us?

William Brooks: Gosh. Why would I do that? If anyone is reading this, I’d suggest she or he come to the concert. But okay ...

A long time ago, Petrarch wrote many sonnets, among them a group expressing his love for Laura and grief at her death. One of the most famous of these begins “Zefiro torna e’l bel tempo rimena” (“Zephyrus returns and brings back the fine weather”), which contrasts the verdant beauty of spring with the desert of the poet’s despair. This was set very beautifully by Monteverdi and by Marenzio before him. Then, in 1909, J. M. Synge published free translations of the “Laura” sonnets. These were, as you’d expect, written with a colloquial (not to say “peasant”) Irish-Anglo flavor. I’m very interested, at the moment, in turn-of-the-century Irish literature; I wrote a big piece on Yeats a while back. So the Synge texts caught my attention. (Too late, of course: the indefatigable Gavin Bryars set all of Synge’s Petrarch translations a few years ago.) The Irish love ghosts and mystery; I suppose Tracce attempts to surround Synge’s text with wisps, haunts, traces (“tracce”) of the past.

SC: Do you write at the piano, do you pre-plan? Can you describe the compositional process?

WB: Sometimes. Usually. And no, I really can’t describe the process. There isn’t one process, after all; there are many. I do like to know how time will be structured; perhaps that’s a given. But, of course, when writing open-form works, even that must be set aside.

SC: Is it important to know the performers? Do you write with a sound in mind?

WB: I generally don’t write music unless there is a performance forthcoming. Hence I often know the performers, and I like that. And most definitely I write with sound—and action—in mind. I abhor midi (though I use it when necessary), and I try whenever possible to sing, shout, dance, thump, conduct, or otherwise make tangible what I’m writing.

SC: How would you describe your individual ‘sound world’?

WB: I hope I don’t have one, but I probably do. I seem to write a lot of shapes, gestures—not enough repetition, I think. I want people to remember things, the good and the bad, so traces (that word again) of the past are often evident. I’m a historian at heart (though I have many hearts: mind your back, Doctor).

SC: What motivates you to compose?

WB: People. Community. Love. The opportunity to give.

SC: Which living composers do you identify with or simply admire?

WB: All the good ones are dead. Didn’t you go to school?

SC: Behave, there must be someone…!

WB: Well, in truth I ducked the question because an answer usually results in being assigned to one camp or another. Uptown, downtown; minimal, maximal; Tonal oder Atonal ... that kind of thing. I’m pretty lavish with admiration, actually; if you give me a score chances are that I’ll find something that interests me. (How else could I get excited about obscure pop songs from 1915?) As for identity, I’m as confused as ever.

SC: If you could have a beer and a chat with any composer from the past, who would it be and why?

WB: We’d have to have a party—maybe, since I’m American, a barbeque. George (not Charlie) Ives, Ockeghem, Clara Schumann, the least known of J. S. Bach’s kids, ... But to tell the truth I’d rather host some performers: Maria Callas, Bert Williams, Ole Bull, Patsy Cline, Bix Beiderbecke ... now THAT’s a party!

SC: Now for some desert island discery – please name eight pieces of music you could not be without, and then select just one.

WB: Today, the one is Charles Ives’s Second Orchestral Set. Tomorrow, it might be any or none of the following: Josquin’s Ave Maria, Roscoe Holcomb singing anything, Chopin’s mazurkas (especially the senza fine), Porgy and Bess, Billie Holiday’s “Strange Fruit,” Coltrane’s A Love Supreme, Dr. Subramaniam playing an alap, Sousa’s “Stars and Stripes” (with the words: “Be kind to your web-footed friends ...”). Of course, I’m choosing all these for effect; in reality, I almost never listen to recordings, I’m astonishingly ignorant about almost all repertoire, and I truly think I’d prefer my desert island to sound like a desert island.

SC: …and a book?

WB: The Bible? Finnegans Wake? A 5,000-page anthology of poetry? Richard Taruskin’s history of music? (Just kidding ...)

SC: Film?

WB: A dead heat between Top Hat and Some Like It Hot. But I’m in despair about giving up the Marx brothers ...

SC: … and a luxury item?

WB: My Mac—or if that doesn’t qualify as a luxury, my iPad. But what’s the wifi like on a desert island?