28 November 2014

Review: Auckland Chamber Orchestra with Ben Hoadley

Auckland Chamber Orchestra
Soloist Ben Hoadley
Directed by Peter Scholes

Holst: Brook Green Suite
Shostakovich: Chamber Symphony Op.110a
Taylor: Bassoon Concerto
Bartok: Music for Strings, Percussion and Celeste

23 November 2014, Raye Freedman Arts Centre
Review by Sarah Ballard


The Auckland Chamber Orchestra certainly produces some of the most nourishing classical music programmes in Auckland. In years past, director Peter Scholes has programmed a delightful set of New Zealand composer portraits, Dutch composer Michael Van Der Aa’s revelatory Mask for ensemble and electronics, and earlier this year ACO delved into crossover with award winning songstress Maisey Rika. This is hardly representational of the range of works that the orchestra has programmed, but these examples show an ensemble that does not subside into any predictable course of action or routine. On Sunday it seemed circumstances had aligned to allow Scholes to stretch to new and innovative heights: on this occasion a “dream” programme of Holst, Shostakovich, Bartok and a collaboration between bassoonist Ben Hoadley and composer Alex Taylor. More often than not, ACO seems to meet this balance of new works and reverence of repertoire greats.

This early evening affair was met with a sense of elation amidst the warm spring air as patrons gathered at the Raye Freedman Arts Centre. Holst’s Brook Green Suite maintained the collective sunny demeanour, with string orchestra launching into the piece with great sprite, vibrantly led by concertmaster Miranda Adams. Pastoral charm was illustrated with liquid silk bowings, effectively conveying the rustic lushness of the second movement. Robert Ashworth's cascading viola line was passed seamlessly and sumptuously over into the bowings of cellist James Tennant, providing the most engaging sonic moment within the piece. The race to the finish was executed with panache, and received enthusiastic applause from a reasonably full audience.

In retrospect the Holst seemed the misfit of the programme. One can only assume that it was included in order to fill out time, a neatly packaged morsel. Nevertheless, the decision to place this piece first on the programme was well judged, so as not to intrude upon the fine musical triptych the following pieces formed.

With tam-tam and harp beckoning onstage in deserted spaces, Shostakovich's musical cryptogram, DSCH, permeated the hall. In this acoustic Adams' foreboding violin solo was more sterile than singing, over an arid bass drone. However she delivered dagger accents with conviction and stringency, but struggled to get the cooperation of the rest of the section. Scholes shaped the dramatic impetus of the work with careful dynamic shading and gentle, free-flowing gestures. The orchestra responded with sardonically nasal earwig trills crawling in and out of earshot, the crackle of bow friction on string and a loitering drone devoid of vibrato, all realised with admirable sensitivity.

It took us so far away from where we all were at that particular moment . The performance succeeded in transporting me as the listener, lifting me out of my context from there in front of the stage. The performers effectively painted the musical juxtapositions which were so important as driving forces of the piece. The ensemble was left decaying on open strings; James Tennant looked truly moved, hanging off an open C as if trying to expel all the anguish of the piece.

The most captivating part of the concert was Alex Taylor’s eagerly anticipated Bassoon Concerto. Soloist Ben Hoadley appeared gallantly onstage with bassoon at the ready, in striking attire to match vertical stripes of crimson red at the backdrop. Labelled as five distinct movements: ‘heave, shuffle, trudge, jolt and roam’, these terms certainly outline a journey of sorts, as mentioned by composer in the programme note. It is a journey mapped out across an emotive terrain, one that the listener senses intensely from the narrative of the protagonist bassoon and its interaction with the orchestra, essentially humanising the instrument. Taylor has for some time had a strong and independent voice, but this piece covers new ground. It is unquestionably still his music, but at the same time there has been a development in musical language, a different sort of expressivity and approach to colour that one could begin to hear in [inner] (2011), for viola and orchestra.

A broad, looming pianissimo chord introduced us to ‘heave’, the composer having taken great care to balance each element. We were then mesmerised and captured, with ritualistic resounding rumbles from low double bass and bass drum and the shimmer of high divisi strings, gliding atop a sonic gulf. Tense, metallic pangs of xylophone announced the arrival of the bassoon, slimy and serpentine, crawling out of the depths of the lower frequencies of the ensemble, and seeping in and out of the musical texture. Hoadley relished in the virtuosic burst of ‘shuffle’, his bassoon line shimmying at the beck and call of the ensemble. At the composer’s most sensitive of writing, and protagonist’s most vulnerable state, Hoadley sounded the most gloriously dulcet high tones, this one of many instances within the work that demonstrated the composer's talent for great colouristic control. Taylor kept the listener enchanted with sublime and intense sensory moments, the opening chord of ‘roam’ seeming to contain the whole world within it.

By the end of this journey I wasn’t sure where we had wound up. The musical trajectory had seemed so perfectly paced up until the second cadenza near the end of the piece. In context, the way the material of this cadenza was presented felt unfamiliar and somewhat out of place considering the lush, emotive writing style that characterised the rest of the piece. However, one can feel quite dissatisfied when a piece ends with a sense of predictability. The unanswered question left in the clearing in this instance made a lasting impression, and piqued plenty of curiosity to warrant reconnecting with the piece in future to retrace this transformative journey. In performance the piece was so engrossing that it did not seem to take up its 25-minute duration, a sign of a well-crafted and cohesive work. It was also striking how effectively integrated the bassoon part was into the material of the ensemble, a special achievement of this concerto. Taylor has contributed a brilliant and sensitive new work to the bassoon repertoire.

Post-interval, the performance of Bartok’s Concerto for Strings, Percussion and Celeste may have suffered somewhat from ambitious programming. It was clear here that Scholes had a different agenda in his conducting. Rigorous and more demanding of players, the focus was on keeping the more rhythmic sections together and expression seemed to be lost as a result. Accuracy and intonation were often an issue and the mechanistic material did not always come off. However the ensemble redeemed itself, evoking opulence in the final Allegro, along with a compelling cello solo from Tenant. For all its insecurities with the repertoire, the ensemble made up for it with enthusiasm and professionalism. This concert marked a brilliant end to the ACO season and highlighted a noble undertaking in bringing some exceptionally fine repertoire to the fore.








9 October 2014

Interview: the SOUNZ Contemporary Award

The SOUNZ Contemporary Award is New Zealand's premier composition prize, the classical equivalent of the Silver Scrolls. Each year three finalists are chosen from a pool of entries. The winner will be announced at the Silver Scrolls awards night on October 30 in Wellington. This year the finalists are Michael Norris (for his work Inner Phases), Celeste Oram (macropsia) and Leonie Holmes (Aquae Sulis). Listener blog contributor Alex Taylor caught up with all three finalists for a fairly relaxed, informal discussion about the SOUNZ Contemporary, and what it means to be composing in New Zealand today. 

You can hear the three finalists' works here:


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Alex Taylor: What has been the reaction to a) your pieces and b) your selection as finalists? How does it feel to be a finalist?

Leonie Holmes: I am completely thrilled and delighted, can’t tell you how much. Sometimes it seems like a long and hard slog through musical life, other times things go smoothly; these sort of things are ultra-special. Reaction has been positive. My concern in this piece is that it mixes a few stylistic features in the one piece, that it ranges from spiky to soppy. I like that about it, I think I’m old and ugly enough now to write what I like and be lyrical if and when I want to be…but I do note that people love the beginning and end of the piece and don’t say much about the middle!

Michael Norris: The initial reaction to my piece seems to have been highly mixed! Some people loved it, some people really didn't! I think many people reacted strongly against video and live music. I had many doubts and anxieties when writing the piece, so in some ways I was surprised to learn I was a finalist — frankly, I wasn't even sure whether I should have submitted the work. I received a withering review in Metro....

Alex: It seems unusual for a piece of new music to be so polarising...

Michael: Indeed. Oh well.

Celeste Oram: Okay I have my own answer coming up, but that's an incredibly interesting point you raise, Michael. I sense there's still so much skepticism around works (like yours) which explore the intersection of sound and vision; and I wonder how much of it is to do with the fact that those kind of works demand new ways of perceiving and experiencing 'music', which audiences are still working out.

Michael: Yes, I think there are some fundamental ontological problems with sound and video. Interestingly, the dance film I scored [TIMEDANCE], which had live ensemble, had no such complaints at all, even though it was essentially the same situation as Inner Phases.

Celeste: You know, if there's too much perceived correlation between sound and music, you get criticized for 'Mickey Mousing' - but if you're trying a more contrapuntal approach, people can be baffled as to 'what they have to do with each other'.

Michael: Yes indeed. It's a fine balance!

Celeste: What would be your thoughts on that balance in relation to your own piece, Mike?

Michael: Ah. To be honest, I'm not sure I have enough distance from it. I think David Downes' visuals are gorgeous and spectacular, but I can understand why some might find them so visually arresting that the music itself is phenomenologically sublimated.

Leonie: Sound and video is such a powerful combination – I've always had a very strong reaction to receiving it. One's physical body becomes more involved; it is a less static way of "watching" music. The one enhances the other. On the other hand there is more leeway for the watcher to become frustrated if they don't "get" the connection, or feel it should have been "done another way" – that's the excitement of it.

Celeste: Yes, absolutely! Listening and hearing are two completely different modes of perception - different anatomical organs, different physical properties, different brain processes - so even when visual and sonic material seem related, there's still so much fascinating stuff that goes on in the gulf between them.

Leonie: Yes that's it! listening and hearing - maybe listening goes with visual images and hearing does not - unless the music is supposed to be subservient to the action as frequently perceived to be the case in classical ballet for instance.

Alex: Leonie I'm interested to know what people think about the reworking of that earlier piece (fragment) in the central part of Aquae Sulis...

Leonie: Alex, I haven't had any reaction to that at all, I don't think many people picked it up.

Alex: That's interesting - i'm always fascinated when composers recycle bits of old material - in this case it seemed to drop in at the perfect moment...

Leonie: To me that piece was always looking for somewhere to belong. I wrote it after I fell into a dream in a chamber music concert and the only thing I could remember was this descending triplet line, it sort of became a symbol of an inner psychological state. So it seemed to fit into a piece about a watery state of underground imaginings. But I still like the short string quartet version!

Alex: It's interesting that all three pieces are so strongly attached to visual imagery...

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Alex: OK - next question - on the night of the awards, hundreds of people will be hearing your work for the first time - what do you hope their experience will be? What advice would you give a first-time listener to your work?

Michael: I hope they'll pick up on the incredibly evocative combination of the Chinese instruments with the string quartet — the colour combinations are fascinating. I can completely understand why Boulez was so taken with ensembles that primarily featured attack-decay instruments and plucked strings. There's an incredible vibrancy to having a general lack of low-to-mid-register arco.

Sorry I've said too many 'incredibles'.

Leonie: My main fear on the night is that I have no control over which section of the piece will be played, as I mentioned earlier there are stylistic variances within it, and like anything out of context it could give the wrong impression to the listener. Thats actually quite terrifying now that you have brought it to my attention!

Alex: "The wrong impression" - can you expand on that? Surely whatever impression they get is valid?

Leonie: The lyrical sections of this piece only make sense if the more dark or tense sections are in there as well, otherwise it doesn't give the right overall impression of the piece. That's the worry in time based creation: it can't be experienced in the single moment (although a few composers have done a pretty good job of compressing a piece into one moment and lots of moments at once, sort of like [Jack Body's] Carol to St Stephen).

Michael: I hope that listeners don't just pay attention to the 'Chinese-ness' of it, as we do tend to listen to difference rather than similarity. And I hope that the composition emphasises the points of contact between the FCCO and the NZSQ [Forbidden City Chamber Orchestra and New Zealand String Quartet], rather than their distinctness.


Celeste: I think the FCCO/NZSQ concert absolutely achieved that point of contact (or at least, it did in my mind) - you could almost call it a kind of 'de-exoticizing'...?



Alex: I was struck by how the "Chinese-ness" wasn't foregrounded for me - it was something that was there but not drawing attention to itself.


Michael: Ah, well that's good. I spent ages agonizing over not just an instrumental approach, but an entire aesthetic language that was situated in some kind of hybrid space. In the end I settled on a three-note glissando as occupying a hybrid space between Chinese tonal inflection, and conventional Western motivic vocabulary. But there was a massive debate in my mind as to whether the emphasis should be primarily on timbral transformational networks, or on pitch/harmony, and I'm not entirely sure I ever resolved that. Some of those tensions remain in the structure of the piece.

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Alex: It's interesting that your work Celeste is currently really all about this multimedia live performance video counterpoint stuff, and yet the work chosen for the awards is a "straight" orchestral piece - how do you feel about that?

Celeste: 'macropsia' does seem a bit of an anomaly - you're quite right. While I'm very proud of this piece, and there's a lot of ground in there that I want to keep covering, the cynic in me can't help but feel that this piece is a bit of a Trojan Horse. By which I mean, it operates within a musical vocabulary, form, and context which is comparatively familiar - and therefore easier to 'evaluate' in competitive contexts, perhaps…? Quite frankly, as an emerging composer there's a fair amount of colouring-between-the-lines that's necessary (which can be very constructive artistically, don't get me wrong). It's very advantageous (practically speaking, but more to the point, artistically speaking) to have an orchestral work up your sleeve that you're really proud of. and when we have a resource in NZ like the NZSO Todd readings, why wouldn't you?

Alex: I thought you managed those familiar tropes so well - the kitsch really popped.

Celeste: YES. KITSCH. IT'S ALL ABOUT THE KITSCH.

Alex: Those parallel chromatic runs, oh lordy...

Celeste: I like to think of it as Lachenmann in drag.

Michael: Have you noticed how Lachenmann looks a bit like Bill Murray?

Alex: He does! The sort of mischievous droopiness.

Michael: I too think that 'Inner Phases' is not my best construction: it's a bit episodic and awkward in places... I think we're all emerging composers, Celeste.

Celeste: I certainly hope so, I'm having too much fun right now.

Michael: As a composer, one should be in a constant state of allowing your ideas to "emerge". If one idea emerges for too long, it's time to move on.


Celeste: ...or you can spend a whole career incubating one idea!

Leonie: In terms of Mike's point about an idea emerging for too long, thats a good one, must always move on, I'm feeling that at the moment.

Michael: I always feel a compositional career is a constant battle between refinement/perfection of an idea and the desire to find new ideas. Which I guess is ultimately what nourishes me.

Michael: [Going back a bit] That's an interesting point, Celeste. Should one write an orchestral work to advance one's career, rather than because you really want to?

Celeste: Oh that wasn't what i was getting at!


Michael: Oh. But you did call it a 'Trojan Horse'. Do you rather mean that it's not representative of your usual modus operandi?


Celeste: Orchestral forces are a form that is so important to tackle (not necessarily for every composer, but); even if it seems outside one's usual practice and interests, the creative challenge of putting one's own stamp on that monstrous tradition is really fruitful ground, i think.

Michael: Yes. It's a monumental challenge. I've written a number of orchestral works in my time, and at the start of each one I have a simultaneous sense of elation and dread.

Alex: I think maybe it's a Trojan Horse because it seems like a straight orchestral piece that Celeste would never write - but actually it's got Celeste written all over it - all these layers of interaction between gestures and kitsch and the physical conceit of the huge orchestra as an insect.

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Alex: How do you feel about competition? Is it a worthwhile exercise judging the best composition in NZ in a given year?

Michael: Ah, there's the rub.

Celeste: I appreciate that there are a bunch of different avenues for recognizing and celebrating new works in NZ - the SOUNZ [Contemporary] is not the only one, by any means.

Michael: I've always felt uncomfortable about it, but when I hear my colleagues in the popular music world admiring and talking about the works by the three finalists (I remember with pride Chris Knox reviewing Gillian Whitehead's work as 'darker and more interesting than the Silver Scrolls finalists'), it does make me realize that we need some sort of forum like this for remaining part of the NZ musical ecosystem.

Alex: Yes it's so interesting hearing the reaction from the pop crowd.

Leonie: The competitive aspect is a very difficult one. Same as in performance, everything is subjective, we all realize that in a competitive environment things can turn out any number of ways depending on any number of circumstances. It's not like a race where someone obviously reaches the end first; quite the opposite. In the end it's impossible, but on the other hand it does put the spotlight on NZ composition. And provides a point of debate as Mike says.

Michael: I did have a feeling for a while that the 'most epic' piece usually won — i.e. the opera, the concerto, or other large orchestral work — though I think this trend has been bucked in the last 5 or so years with a more interesting variety of work being represented.

Celeste: Leonie - absolutely agree. I'm not sure how much press the SOUNZ award gets outside NZ, but I agree with Mike that it's a neat way to let other musicians see a glimpse of what composers in our tradition are up to. If only those conversations kept going after the Silver Scrolls afterparty...! But it seems that, cumulatively, from year to year there's always a healthy selection of works that get good press and good receptions - be it at the Big Sing, or in orchestral concerts, or new music ensemble events - and that broad survey is really crucial.

Alex: Yes, but do you think the award itself is a broad survey? Does it represent the diversity of what's going on in our community? I mean, arguably, all three of your works are "orchestral".

Michael: Not especially. There are certain genres that are almost always exempt. But I don't know if that's because they're not chosen, or they're not submitted.

Celeste: Well, yeah - as we kind of started talking about at the beginning, I'm really thrilled that Mike's piece is in the awards this year - it's great to see work that expands the compositional landscape being recognized critically.

Michael: I do feel for my friends in the experimental sonic arts tradition — I think there's only been one wholly electronic work in the finals EVER?

Celeste: Thanks to decades of new music tradition (and the centuries before that), there's a pretty hegemonic set of evaluative criteria that ends up looking favourably on 'solely musical' works (whatever that means). I guess what I mean is, there's a relatively uncontroversial system whereby one can divine whether or not a 'solely musical work' is "good".

Leonie: I guess that's up to the jury in any one year, and they also work with whatever is submitted. Some pieces submit better to recording process, while others are better in real life situations, and of course the recordings are important here. Which is a point I constantly think about. This is off topic, but as I have a background as a community composer, I look at all the music that is happening around us that only occurs in the moment, but actually changes lives. I recently went to the Mt Roskill Intermediate school show and was blown away by the music the kids were playing. For one of them, this could be the beginning of a life in music, yet no record of it now exists, nor should it. This to me is what music is about.

Alex: I think it [the SOUNZ Contemporary Award] really does favour the works with the excellent professional recording by excellent professional musicians.

Celeste: ...and going back to my previous point, what is PRECISELY SO EXCITING about work which uses expanded media is that, despite the fact that it's been on the block for decades now, the very dynamism of the art form means that it hasn't yet let audiences/critics/mythology/textbooks/whatever settle upon a concrete, non-controversial way of evaluating it.

Michael: Ah, mythology. I think we should get Odin and Thor to decide the winner of the SOUNZ Contemporary.

Alex: Winner gets a hammer?

Leonie: Epic music would win out every time

Michael: Yes, ones involving lightning and hammers.

Alex: Ragnarok - the Musical

Michael: I do think that sonic arts needs better recognition in this country. It needs a 'Prix Ars Electronica'. I look at all our excellent Sonic Arts graduates and wonder how they're going to maintain an artistic practice outside the University.

Celeste: Really good point, Mike - maybe a bigger shortlist would allow for a more diverse survey of what's been going on in NZ music in the last 12 months, in a way that might recognize those sonic artists...?

Michael: Do you think that people should have to submit works? Is that part of the problem? Or should there be a general collation of new works by SOUNZ? I guess that would be a bit impractical.

Celeste: Well, I think there needs to be a system whereby works can easily come to SOUNZ's attention, so yes, I think there should be a submission process. But it could also extend to a nomination process...?

Michael: That's an interesting idea.

Alex: It would require a very broad knowledge from whoever was judging/collating.

Celeste: whatever process it is, it starts to get dysfunctional when people are disincentivized from applying because they think their work "isn't the type".

Michael: Yes, that's my concern Celeste. I suspect very few composers submit EA [Electroacoustic] works because they consider those works to not be acceptable.

Celeste: My vote would be for a bigger shortlist (5 or 6), in the hopes that it ends up being artistically broader - and then perhaps no outright winner...?

Leonie: Surely self nomination is the only fair way. Maybe just more encouragement for people to submit EA works. Yes, a bigger shortlist could be interesting, I imagine trying to get a large number of completely different works down to three to be completely agonizing.

Celeste: I just feel a little uncomfortable with the idea of separate categories for EA and 'normal music' (because that's inevitably the implication) - they just seem like such false, superficial boundaries. A composer working with electronic media could actually be along a much closer wavelength, creatively speaking, to a composer who writes for acoustic instruments than two acoustic composers writing in very different styles.

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Alex: Different sort of question - Each of your pieces requires a certain buy-in from your performers - how would you describe your relationship to the performers? Where do they fit in the process? [In relation to the pieces but also more generally]

Michael: Of course it was VERY interesting working with performers some of whom are good friends and I knew well, and some of whom live in Beijing and don't speak any English! It was actually quite a fun process, though rather long and at times frustrating. But also very educational and enriching. Like many of Jack [Body]'s projects, when you're in the middle of them, you always wish you'd said 'No', but afterwards, you're glad you didn't.

For me when I'm writing works, I'm always thinking about the PERFORMER first and foremost, and the kind of physicality and performativity they bring to the music. Which is why it was so difficult writing for musicians I barely knew. In fact, I wrote about 5 minutes of music before I went to Beijing for the first time, and after that visit, I threw most of it out. I realized I had completely misjudged some of those ineffable aspects of an ensemble — which instruments tend to dominate, which are more submissive ('supportive' may be a better word). I'm really in love with some of those instruments though — I think every orchestra needs a sheng and a yangqin in them.

I always think about the training of musicians when it comes to extended techniques — when I hear the Arditti playing Lachenmann, or even just a series of harmonics, I always wonder why not every quartet sounds like that. It's not just an issue of fluency of performance, there's some quantifiable tonal difference at work.

Celeste: Okay, for this piece - obviously you can't communicate much to a whole orchestra beyond what's on the page. I had about 30 seconds to talk to the orchestra before the Todd reading began, and I basically said, "the orchestra is a bug, every string player is a leg. GO." and that seemed to work...? Everything the performer needs to know about what to do needs to be in the actual dots on paper. Which is not to say that, as a composer, sound is your only priority - but any physical affect has to be kind of psychologically tricked onto/into the performers by way of what you notate.

...and that's quite different to a lot of my other work, where the physical presence/dynamic of HUMAN BEINGS (which in most cases ends up being a musician) is most often where i start from conceptually.

Alex: "psychologically tricked onto the performers" - meaning there's a kind of resistance?


Michael: I think meaning that you don't have time to sit and work through the dramaturgy of a piece, so you have to find some way to get the desired result through notation alone. I often put in performance directions with the single reason of trying to get my performers to respond in some physical or psychological way.


Celeste: ...meaning that, through well-judged complexity, you can factor in an element of danger into a score which can give the sonic performance a real feeling of liveness - seat-of-the-pants type stuff - rather than immaculately rehearsed.

Leonie: Rehearsals with an orchestra must be one of the most interesting things to observe in the world. Such a mixture of people, a weird assortment of blowy, scrapey, hitty things that someone from Mars would be incredulous to see, and all having to buy into the process, yet all with their own views of the music and the world in general. All steered by someone at the front - in the specific instance of Aquae Sulis I had a great conduit in the conductor and the orchestra were very focussed which made it a hugely positive experience.

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Alex: Still in relation to performers - Another NZ composer recently said to me that "the living composer keeps an orchestra relevant." How do you respond to that? Do you think the orchestra (in whatever form) sees you as relevant to them?

Michael: Depends on the orchestra. And the artistic management.

Leonie: I don't really think you can categorize an orchestra as a single entity in this sort of question. Some members of the orchestra would totally agree, others would not. It is a strange mix of the individual and the whole. Most important then becomes the attitude of the management and the conductor.

Celeste: Yep, that comment is spot on. And to answer your question, my conversations with orchestral players have been overwhelmingly positive. At the last Todd readings, one of the cellists said an extraordinary thing which I actually found pretty moving: she freely admitted that a lot of the time she (and I think she was speaking for some of her colleagues too) didn't exactly "get" what "us young composers" were writing; but she wholeheartedly believed in the importance of us being able to write whatever we feel compelled to write, and therefore she was wholeheartedly committed to playing it as best she could. That was pretty special to hear. So that's on a very localized level of the musicians of the orchestra.

Michael: There's a real variance as to how much players are willing to perform a piece that really explores extended technique though. Even in Vienna there was a recent spat between the RSO and Pierluigi Billone. It's amazing how with seasoned professionals in new music, they're always willing to try something even if it's outside their training and experience. With some orchestral musicians, however, there can be a rush to criticize a piece if it doesn't sit within their training.

Leonie: It is only recently that I have felt comfortable being "the composer" in a situation where one is mixing with the musicians in an orchestra. It's very easy to feel quite intimidated, although as with many situations in life, showing fear is not advisable! It is not easy to please everyone in an orchestra and there will be moments of discomfort or worse. Due to time constraints etc. they are not tolerant of mistakes or any uncertainty, which is one of the main differences between a large and a small group of performers. But on the whole I find individual members of any orchestra I've worked with are usually helpful, friendly, generous with their knowledge. A real privilege to work with and learn from.

Celeste: To my mind, the most exciting orchestral initiatives are where the orchestra really shows willing to adapt ITSELF to the community which supports it, even if that means completely transforming what is traditionally considered to be the makeup and domain of a symphony orchestra. I think the APO [Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra] is pretty exemplary in that regard. They don't have an 'eat-your-greens' attitude towards bringing orchestral music to a wider audience - as both an organization, and as players themselves, they are so energized by the possibility of adapting what they do to realize a range of projects. I sense a genuine commitment to 'relevance' in a lot of APO projects ...and several other initiatives by other NZ orchestras too, of course! i'm just being parochial.

Alex: Although we've talked about how the SOUNZ Contemporary (perhaps unintentionally) excludes certain kinds of music or compositional approach, to me the three of you nevertheless represent quite different compositional approaches - in such a small country, where does that diversity come from?

Celeste: The internet...? Sorry, that was 93% facetious... Put most simply, diversity of work comes from diversity of people and diversity of experience, surely? 

I do wonder to what extent the "such a small country" trope still prevails - that's what's behind the other 7% of my earlier comment. After all, I'm no longer *physically* in that country, but I still feel pretty engaged with its creative goings-on.

Leonie: One point I would make is that although I might be seen as having a certain composition approach at the moment, a) I value the freedom to change this approach whenever I want and b) love and admire many types of music which use different composition approaches. There is an element of insecurity and desire to do better always in my mind, I'm always wishing my music had the expression or technique or excitement or challenge etc. etc. of something else I am listening to.


Michael: I don't think we're THAT diverse actually.

Alex: Perhaps not the pieces chosen, but as composers I think so.

Michael: Maybe. To a point. I would say that the world has become more diverse. I can't think of many countries that still have strong 'schools' in existence that aren't at least being challenged by younger composers.

Celeste: The other day, a composer here at UCSD asked me to explain 'what sort of music people are writing in NZ'. That is a really, REALLY hard question to answer! How would you guys have explained it...?

Alex: I was going to ask something like that... what is the state of NZ music?


Michael: 'Music that makes sounds. Sometimes.' I think NZ music has a really fantastic critical awareness - as evidenced by the recent CANZ conference.



Celeste: My first instinct was actually to just talk about each individual composer working in NZ and explain who they were, what kind of work they've written, and what they've been up to lately. Because that's very much how I think about it! New Zealand music is written by a number of beautiful individual New Zealanders, each of whom is doing their own beautiful thing. But that would have taken a while...


Eventually, the best way i could succinctly synopsize NZ composition (in a way that distinguished it from other nations) was that there are very few dead composers in New Zealand: that NZ's compositional history/taonga is overwhelmingly populated by living composers. Poignantly, a couple of days later I found out about the passing of John Ritchie. So, obviously, it's a flawed explanation on a number of fronts. But I think the sentiment behind it is pretty relevant.

Alex: Yes, when you know them all it's very hard to think of them as anything other than individuals. An objective outsider might be able to group us more efficiently.

Celeste: But whyever would we want to be "grouped"?! How reductive and dull. That's how music textbooks are written, not how music is written.

Michael: I think there are some trends or commonalities. I'm intrigued as to why so many younger composers have become interested in spectralism. There seems to be some affinity with the idea of space and sonic thinking that has fitted in with a post-Lilburn landscape. Maybe a generalization.

Celeste: It can be misleading to 'group' along stylistic lines, though - those younger composers are likely attracted to a sonic spectral world for very different reasons than attracted Grisey et al., and explore that sonic world very differently too.

Michael: Yes. True.


Celeste: I bet the psycho-sonic-geography of each place has a lot to answer for...




17 September 2014

Review: NZTrio Loft Series 2: Ritual Triptych

NZTrio: Justine Cormack, violin; Ashley Brown, cello; Sarah Watkins, piano

Sunday 14 September, Q Theatre Loft

Review by Alex Taylor

NZTrio describes itself as “versatile and genre-busting.” Certainly its commitment to both the traditional classical canon of trio repertoire and to new commissions by New Zealand composers enables striking juxtaposition and variety. However one avenue not so much explored has been the Avant Garde of the 20th and 21st centuries, from which New Zealand composers draw much of their inspiration. This is partly due no doubt to the relative neglect of the traditional violin-cello-piano trio during this period. Many of the pioneering composers passed over the piano trio in favour of other combinations: Schoenberg and Webern favoured the more homogeneous and fragile string trio, while Ligeti took the Brahms horn trio as his model for something  quite different.

What was special about Sunday’s concert was that it included not only a new NZTrio commission in the form of John Elmsly’s Ritual Triptych, but also a meaty nod to the European Avant Garde with Salvatore Sciarrino’s Piano Trio no. 2. The prosaic title belies the ingenuity of Sciarrino’s composition – this might be the most ambitious work NZTrio have attempted to date. A slippery tangle of string harmonics is coerced into action by high-tensile piano entries, the fragile texture eventually shredded by the piano’s pinball-machine glissandi. There’s a real sense of alchemy, of elemental conflict and synthesis, as the players navigate bursts of activity and lulls of tentative pulsation. Sarah Watkins attacked the keyboard with mercurial ferocity, and Justine Cormack’s and Ashley Brown’s stratospheric duets were highly nuanced. However at times I felt the group’s natural tendency towards clipped articulation and playfulness went against the character of the more spectral episodes, and the clarity of cello and violin was not always balanced. Nevertheless this was a thrilling performance, and I look forward to more adventures in modernism from the trio.

Following a sustained bout of applause from an enthusiastic full house, Ashley Brown began rubbing his bow across the cello strings, creating an abrasive sort of white noise. He explained that he was recharging his bow, collecting the rosin deposited in Sciarrino’s more aggressive bouts of scraping and shuffling. Brown went on to say that “in order to make some nice noises [i.e. those about to come in the Mendelssohn trio] we have to make some ugly ones.”  Although this could be viewed as extraneous to the performance itself, I thought it was fascinating both as sound, and as a window into the mindset of the performer. What I extrapolated from his comment, rightly or wrongly, was that he believes a performance is made up of nice sounds; “ugly” sounds have no place in performance. For the performer, performance is a struggle for perfection.

How a listener experiences performance is rather different: a mixture of engagement and inattention, conflicting sources of information, the transformation of memory. There are many reasons that we enjoy a performance. For me it is often a tiny moment or interaction; it might even be something transitional or peripheral, or the overwhelming excess of a sound world. For every listener it is different. So it bothers me a little when a performance experience gets packaged and crafted into a singular sound bite, ostensibly to make it easier to digest for the layperson. NZTrio’s “listening notes” were such a packaging, forcing pictorial simplifications onto the music before it even had a chance to express itself. I don’t doubt that these notes were conceived with the best of intentions, as a window into specific soundworlds, but these were windows that had been painted over with childish landscapes. Some of them invoked quite beautiful metaphors – in particular the description of the Sciarrino as “ancient whale song” and “cascading crystal meteors” – but no matter how striking the image, they still remove the listener’s imagination from the equation.

While Sciarrino was somewhat uncharted territory for the group, Mendelssohn’s C minor trio is well ingrained in the canon, hailed as a masterwork by Watkins. The music is demanding, but all three players displayed an elegant ease with the material. They clearly enjoyed the bustling toccata of the scherzo and the grand scope of the finale, seamlessly blending together the diverse characters of Mendelssohn: the daintily balletic and the gleamingly pastoral. This is where the trio are at their best – inhabiting well defined characters, where they can show off their impressively tight ensemble playing and shiny virtuosity.

At the other end of the programme was the relatively unfamiliar Beethoven trio (op. 1 no. 2) – altogether more transparent and exposed than the Mendelssohn. The ungainly writing of the first movement was not always successfully navigated, but after the rather torpid second movement, the work seemed to take on new life in the scherzo with a dose of swing and the trio’s characteristic lightness of touch.

The most arresting moment of the concert was the opening of John Elmsly’s Ritual Triptych, a jagged, disorientating gesture coloured by the rapid stroking of piano strings. This explosion left in its wake a mesmerising, Feldmanesque stasis that gradually formed into haloed, pentatonic gongs. Every so often the meditative atmosphere was broken by the startling intrusion of the opening gesture. There was a palpable sense of ritual, although for me this was an alien ritual I was observing from outside, transfixed and perplexed.

Such a jolt was that initial gesture that the central movement Con Fuoco felt almost pale by comparison. Intensity was sacrificed for groove, phrasing for verticality, and the aggressively shifting harmony was treated too monochromatically. I found myself longing for the stretched-out phrases of the first movement, the soft-hued echoes of South East Asia. We were duly rewarded in the final stretch of the work as the music returned to subtle inflection and wandering introspection.  

22 July 2014

Review: NZSO National Youth Orchestra

NZSO National Youth Orchestra, cond. Alexander Shelley

Saturday 19 July, ASB Theatre, Aotea Centre Auckland

Review by Leonie Holmes

The NZSO National Youth Orchestra performance is something to look forward to every year. Always vibrant and fresh, it is the result of an intensive week of immersion and rehearsal by young performers at the beginning of their musical careers. Conducted by Alexander Shelley, the 2014 concert was unusual in that it featured two Richard Strauss works, programmed to celebrate the composer’s 150th birthday. There are notoriously hair-raising technical difficulties in this music, but it is also challenging in its complexity and intelligent capriciousness. Suddenly changing moods, suspended moments followed by scuttering recapitulations of exposed intensity, whimsical dances and glorious lyricism all have to be navigated. The opening of Don Juan was bright and bold, and principal winds were beautiful in the slow middle section. The Aotea Centre venue lacked the intimacy of previous NYO concerts in the Town Hall, and the acoustic was a challenging one in which to project the famous Also Sprach Zarathustra opening, but there was a wonderfully rich sound from all the sections as the piece gathered momentum – the sight of a double bass section swaying in full “ships at sea” throttle is one of the best orchestral images!

Given the slightly unusual programming of these two churning and existential post-Romantic tone poems, I’m sure it made a refreshing change in rehearsals to move into a different sound world for Sarah Ballard’s work Synergos.  One of the most satisfying and exciting aspects of the NYO course is the inclusion of a Composer-in-Residence. The resulting premiere adds relevance and value to the programme both for the orchestra and, importantly, the wider peer network. It was heartwarming to witness the anticipation this new work generated, and the young audience of friends and fellow musicians who were there to cheer the composer on.

It goes without saying that the residency is also a dream opportunity for the composer, with a sympathetic conductor able to devote plenty of time to the crafting of the performance, and  instrumentalist peers available for consultation and feedback. Sarah has taken full advantage of this opportunity, creating a work which explores the textural potential of the orchestra. 

In Synergos, a sonic exploration of the colours red (alizarin) and gold (aurum) has resulted in a glittering shimmer of a work, with textures that could almost be physically felt in the air. The idea of transforming colour properties into sound or “hearing colour” is not a new one, although for me in this case an intriguing addition was that of the elemental or mineral implication, a source of inspiration also noticeable in some of Sarah’s earlier works for orchestra and chamber groups.  Conceptually, it felt like an impersonal/elemental version of colour translated into sound had been alternately mixed and contrasted with a potential human/emotional response to that colour, then these two ideas used to build a sound world based on textural exploration. At any given moment, if one orchestral section or group tended towards sustained events, another could have more rapid rhythmic gestures, whilst a third might be caught in the middle of the two, mimicking aspects of both, yet not part of either. This third section would then be used to morph into the next moment, whilst on top of all was a wonderful and complex array of constantly shifting timbral shading. In fact the first movement seemed to come to life with such momentum, and the material was so detailed, that some moments went by and become lost to memory before I wanted to let go of them, and this affected my sense of an overall trajectory to this movement,  which faded all too quickly into brassy, breathy sighs. By comparison the second movement was longer and more expansive; this time the music was allowed to escape and bloom.  Again I fancied the use of the number three as an organizational factor - sustained notes in upper strings alternated with silvery glints and gasps from harp and metal percussion, along with more structural, vertical blocks of sound.  The ending was magical, with a final hardly audible sul pont tap like a quick gleam of gold before dark falls.

The combination of technical detail and intuitive gesture in this piece resulted in a work that the generous Aotea Centre audience warmed to, whilst leaving plenty to explore on further listening. A great addition to the orchestral repertoire, which I hope will be played many more times.  The orchestra did an excellent job of bringing the piece to life; the performance felt assured and comfortable. Bravo to all involved.



17 July 2014

Interview: Sarah Ballard

Sarah Ballard is the NZSO National Youth Orchestra Composer-in-Residence for 2014. I talked to her earlier in the year about her upcoming residency (you can read the previous interview here http://thelistenerblog.blogspot.co.nz/2014/03/interview-sarah-ballard-nzso-national.html). Today I jump into the thick of it and catch up with Sarah in the midst of a whirlwind week of rehearsals leading up to two concerts tomorrow (Wellington) and Saturday (Auckland).          


[The orchestra has just finished their final official rehearsal of Synergos, but Sarah tells me with some excitement that conductor Alexander Shelley has scheduled an extra rehearsal for tonight (Thurs 17 July). Immediately below is a score extract from the opening of the second movement, Aurum]




Alex Taylor: How has conductor Alexander Shelley been to work with?

Sarah Ballard: Fantastic, very receptive, and quite happy for me to barge in throughout rehearsal. He's been sort of deconstructing the piece and piecing it back together again. I think this is really helpful for the players because they can hear the function of the other sections and then put it all into context.

AT: Is he a big-picture sort of conductor or a more detailed sort of one?

SB: I think he's got a good balance between the two going on, but I think he's good at picking up on the finer details and bringing these out to their full potential. So far it has been more about the details, but this evening will be about giving the orchestra a chance to feel the forms of each piece and how the pieces sit with one another.

AT: What's it been like compared to your experiences with other conductors? It must be nice to have a whole week to work together on your piece...

SB: The main difference really is the time. It's hard to compare to my experiences with other conductors as it's usually been on quite a time restraint and the accepted thing has generally been that you don't get too much of a word in. That's been my experience with the [NZSO / Todd Corporation Young Composer Awards] Todd readings anyway. I feel that he's taken the time to understand my intentions with the piece.

I think his open-mindedness has transferred through to the orchestra too. That has made rehearsing the piece an enjoyable experience for the performers I think.

AT: That makes a big difference.

SB: It does, huge. I don't feel a sense of urgency when it comes to the rehearsal of my piece either. It's a similar pace and momentum of rehearsal that is given to the Strauss. Sometimes with new music you may feel that they're just trying to get through the piece.

AT: Do you think that open-mindedness towards new music is unusual?

SB: No, I don't think it is unusual. But then again there is so much encapsulated within the branch of new music there are sort of limits as to how open-minded people will remain with it.

[short break; players are out for lunch]

AT: It's interesting what you say about limits - where do you think those limits lie? What has formed those limits?

SB: I think it's the aural experience. When it becomes physically uncomfortable for the listener. Dissonant intervals, harsh timbres, piercing registers, extreme dynamics.

I think it's also where there is less of a traceable musical line. People feel uncomfortable when there's no thread to follow. Or they don't understand the language of the thread that is presented to them

AT: I was going to ask you about that - your score doesn't flinch from those extremes - does that make it more difficult for your performers? Are they at times in physical discomfort?

SB: I've asked them about this, and they said it hasn't really bothered them. Perhaps the ones who are affected are too shy to complain to me. Well, not shy, but too polite. Some of the woodwind players have complained about having sore mouths; that could be from the higher registers of my piece! But I think generally it's just the massive amount of playing they've been doing.

AT: It is a big play!

SB: It is! Not so much a long programme, but the music is intense! Actually, now I think of it. When we ran through the first time, the percussion section were very loud and some of the brass were quite agitated by this. Now that it's balanced though, they're totally comfortable with it. I think it was just a matter of establishing the relativity of the dynamics.

AT: And the line - a lot of your piece relies on the transformation of texture and timbre rather than lyricism, at least explicitly - do you think that makes it hard to follow on first approach? How does the audience find a way in?

SB: Indeed, it's certainly one of those pieces that requires a few listenings to get one's head around. I like that though, in the music I listen to. It's like a treasure trove and seems to evolve and present new things upon repeated listenings. I'd be very happy if my music were as dynamic as that.

But it is a concern for the audience, yes. There are solos throughout that I think open windows for the listener. The harp duets as well. There's an ebb and flow to the piece. As for the more tumultuous sections...

AT: I suppose it's a good chance to be immersed in something rather than following it along on the surface...

SB: Definitely; in those cases it enables the audience to listen from the inside out. That's exciting! I'm still figuring out how I perceive that myself. It's never the same twice over; like I've said, I think that's a beautiful thing. Why do we always need to feel a sense of security?

AT: Do you think that's why (and tell me if I'm putting words in your mouth) a lot of classical performers venerate the established repertoire, the canon - a sense of security?

SB: Well it's what they often train to do. All the aesthetics of playing they are taught are drawn from this repertoire. I guess when it comes to new techniques they are unsure how to play, there may be a lack of a sense of accomplishment if they have no model to compare it to.

AT: You said last time we spoke that "the living composer keeps an orchestra relevant." I think it's a wonderful thing to say - but do you really believe that? Relevant to whom?

SB: That's really tricky. Excellent that you've brought this back up. I think the orchestra would still be relevant without new music, but new music only increases its relevance, particularly to the wider public I think.

AT: How does it do that?

SB: I think classical music audience members now are often made up of people who have perhaps played an instrument. I hear that in Vienna people would play through a symphony at home before it was performed and go along in great excitement to hear the real deal. Perhaps I got the wrong end of the stick there.

AT: Yes, there was definitely a greater culture of education and intellectualism in relation to orchestral music - do you think that's something we're missing these days?

SB: For sure. The function of music has changed. Mainstream music, anyway. But I think often people who have less musical background are often slightly more open-minded. They have less historical context to pit it against, and often they are able to get something out of the music by ascribing their own meaning to the music. They are able to relate the music to objects, scenes, atmospheres. Their view of the music is perhaps less clouded.


The stuff of the piece - SYNERGOS

AT: Let's talk a bit about your work - Synergos. (Is it wrong to call it a work?)

SB: Are you referring to when I said I didn't see my writing as work? No, that's ok, that's different…

AT: Is it though? A work, an opus.

SB: Oh yes, for sure! It's the work I'm most proud of to date.

AT: There’s some incredibly beautiful harmonic worlds contained in this piece – where does the harmonic material of the piece come from / how did you go about creating it?

SB: Oh gosh, I think I'd have to look back at my notes and sketches. A lot of the time I think I was listening to where the individual instrumental lines wanted to go. Which note was the current one being pulled towards? So, I think I'd sort of feel those lines through. Then zoom out, look at the bigger picture, and tweak it. I'm really not a technical composer. I think there's a little bit of consideration of the harmonic series in there too, but it's very minimal and gets washed over by other harmonies.

AT: Could you talk a little about the structure of each of the movements – what is happening? Is it just a matter of following the individual instrumental lines? Your work is I think quite tonal in the sense that there are these pulls, these magnetisms towards certain harmonies and structural points.

SB: I was really thinking in terms of 'energy flow' for each piece, which I guess is similar to the concept of tension and release. I usually structure my pieces by drawing a graph, like an audio graph that outlines the course of tension and release throughout the piece.

[AT: Do you have a drawing you could scan and post with the interview? That would be cool…

SB: No I don't unfortunately, they're all at home. I had a good chart on my wall of both of the movements but I ended up throwing them out at the end of the piece. It was cathartic. But there are probably still remnants in my notebook as well]

SB: [The audio graph] is not always adhered to, it's a rough guide. If I don't adhere to it, it's because I'm asking what the current material is demanding from me. I'm constantly asking myself. Where does the music want to go? It's a bit strange, I have to write to myself as I'm composing, so you'll probably find "where does the music want to go" scrawled on every page.

AT: You don't ever feel like you have to impose your ego, your structure on the music to prevent it from going AWOL, getting too unruly?

SB: No, I think then it sounds like I'm struggling against what it naturally wants to progress onto, and then it sounds wrong. Like a spanner got thrown in the works.

Funny that, order can lead to disorder…

AT: There seem to be two quite distinct types of musical texture in the work – a very precise block rhythmic unison, and a sort of smudged effect combining different tempi and envelopes – maybe one could describe it as a tension between homophonic and heterophonic textures. Do these serve different purposes? How do you decide which textural approach to take?

SB: That block rhythmic unison is the theme of red. The more heterophonic texture is probably the character of gold presenting itself. I think that's what you're referring to. These elements start to butt heads near the end and this was a point at which I really did impose a certain structure on the piece regardless of where it was going at the time. But it's meant to signify struggle and resistance, before the surrender, before the colours synergise.

AT: You've got a huge palette to work with - Is there a temptation for the orchestra to become a sparkly bag of tricks?

SB: There is indeed. I was worried the piece would become a compendium of extended techniques after I'd written the first movement. But now I'm really comfortable with all of the sounds and I'm thinking YES this works! It's nicely balanced with the more harmonic focus of the second movement.

You do have to rein yourself in, and give musical ideas the time to speak. It is tempting to quickly move onto other ideas with all the colours at one's disposal…

AT: …especially when one is thinking and feeling about red and gold, surely two of the boldest colours you could have chosen...

SB: Yes, this was difficult in that I started writing the piece by visualising each individual colour. Essentially meditating on each colour individually and then allowing sounds to creep into my mind. I actually heard the opening of the first movement very vividly and became very attached to it, so any flaws it may have had became very difficult to see objectively. Then, after I had established these characters I let the music take off where it wanted to go, but now and again I would imagine the colour again and think, right how do I maintain the sense of this colour? I felt that sometimes a disparity would occur between the organic nature of my compositional process and the extramusical subject matter that was being projected onto it…

AT: What do you do when you come up against that disparity?

SB: I try to take a step back and try and remove myself from the piece. You get so engrossed in it while you're writing that you need to switch to a different mode of listening I think. I'll go back and try and reinforce the original material in some way without making it sound forced and interceptive. This can be where a block may arise, but you've just got to push through until it comes. Sometimes it's also a matter of making a decision on what's more important to you, the concept behind the piece, or the music itself.


Beyond Synergos

AT: What does your family think of you being a composer?

SB: They're really happy. So amazingly supportive. It wasn't always this way. My family are mostly tradespeople so for a while I felt the "think about a real job" vibe. But since they've seen how happy it makes me and have seen me succeeding they're delighted. I'll go on a rant to my nana about a piece I'm writing sometimes and she'll look at me like I'm crazy and she'll always say "as long as it makes you happy darling". My family have never forced me to do anything, we've always been very relaxed and easy going. Left to our own devices…

AT: When people ask you what you do, what do you say?

SB: I say I work in music retail and I compose in my spare time...

AT: Ideally would you compose full time?

SB: That would be neat, I think it's quite nice though to have something else to balance with it. Composing is really intense.

AT: Is there a New Zealand sound? An Auckland sound? A Wellington sound? How does your music sit in relation to any of that?

SB: I feel that New Zealand music in general has less of specific schools of thought imposed upon it. I mean, a lot of the music doesn't sound like it's influenced by a specific school of thought. This is super tricky; it's difficult to pinpoint. I've heard 'a sense of space' being spoken about before, and I would agree with that. But NZ music is so diverse…
It was interesting when I came to Wellington a few years ago for an SMP music concert. I felt the music had a more complexist approach to it or aesthetic.

AT: Yes, there does seem to me a broad difference between youngish Auckland composers and youngish Wellington composers... perhaps to do with the influence of particular teachers...

SB: Yes, definitely due to the influence of the teachers within the universities.

AT: Or to put it in a different way, are there any particular New Zealand composers or compositions that have had a strong influence on you or your music?

SB: For sure. All of my mentors' output has been of great importance to me. Pieces like [John Elmsly] JE's Cello Symphony and [Eve de Castro-Robinson] Eve's Triple Clarinet Concerto are works that deserve more hearings, and Leonie Holmes' "Through Coiled Stillness" is of the strongest in the choral repertoire. Anthony Young is a huge inspiration. I became quite obsessed with his orchestral piece "Mamaku" a few years back and everything I've heard from him since has been sublime. The Sound Barrier CD had a huge impact on me. I listened to that on repeat early on in my studies and I still go back to it now.

AT: You were recently dubbed the “Saariaho of the South” – how does that sit with you?

SB: Well I was honoured to be associated with her as she is a huge influence on my music currently, and this will be quite obvious when you hear the piece. I relate very much to her philosophy as well. I think I am a composer who is very much in tune with the music throughout the compositional process and I think she works on a similar level of intuition. So yes, I have no gripes about it. I'm also not ashamed to admit that I'm influenced by specific composers and to refer specifically to it in my music. It's all recontexualised anyway. It's what you do when you're learning.

I used to compose out of such a vacuum that it was actually hard to hear many influences in my music. But I really think you need to be a complete sponge and progress in this way.

AT: Coming back to this whole NYO experience, what’s it been like working with the players?

SB: They've been so open and receptive to playing my music. I've even had one come up to me and ask me to help them how to 'get' new music and what the philosophy is behind it and my own piece. I thought that was really lovely.

AT: So there's a curiosity there?

SB: Yes, definitely. I think some wonder what pieces of the puzzle they're missing…

AT: But also perhaps a bit of a void in the education system? Performers can go through university without having to play any contemporary music...

SB: Yes, I think that's quite a shame. It can require a different approach and way of musical thinking, which takes a bit of exposure to get used to I think. So it's no wonder there can be a bit of hostility I guess

AT: Do you think these players will go away with some new understanding of new music, of music?

SB: I'd like to think so, certainly in the way it can operate. In the potential for layers and colours. A lot of them have learnt new sounds on their instruments and I think some of them actually quite enjoy it. Some have said it's fun to play, which I wasn't expecting. It was interesting observing them learning how everything fits together. The first rehearsal was a train wreck and sounded nothing like the piece. You could just see it when they locked in and started making sense of the music.


NZSO National Youth Orchestra in concert:

Friday 18 July 6.30pm, Michael Fowler Centre, Wellington
Saturday 19 July 7.30pm, ASB Theatre, Aotea Centre, Auckland

Sarah Ballard on SOUNZ - 
http://sounz.org.nz/contributor/composer/1841
http://sounz.org.nz/content/NYO2014ComposerInResidence

Our previous interview - 
http://thelistenerblog.blogspot.co.nz/2014/03/interview-sarah-ballard-nzso-national.html