So, it's Tuesday evening and I'm pretty tired. I should be in bed, but it's Pancake Day and I just had to pop around my friend's for some sweet fillings. Being in university full-time seems quite odd, especially as I'm usually only in on a Tuesday and Wednesday for a couple of hours most weeks – and this is a week in which I'm finalising an arrangement for a Jonathan concert at All Souls Langham Place. I spent a total of ten hours composing music yesterday, and something similar so far today.
But all is well, as the creative process has been entirely worth it. We've been inspired by a set of songs written for string quartet by Elvis Costello and the Brodsky Quartet: a batch of pieces inspired by the so-called 'Juliet Letters', which are relatively poppy and conservative in style. No sul pont. or any extramusical effects here – more a crossover between a batch of Haydn and Mozart quartets and a poppy arrangement for a rock artist. Their originality, however, is in the use of the string quartet as a sole accompaniment to such a unique artist as Costello. His (at times almost Dylanesque) voice provides part of that crossover magic, making its case for blending with its 300-year-old backline. And while the pieces seem so conservative at first glance, their poetical beauty and melodic effortlessness provoke me to surrender and just enjoy such a fine batch of songs.
For me, part of the challenge of this project is that whole barrier that exists in western culture between the composer and the performer – traditionally, the composer writes and the performer plays the piece, but Colab, our conservatoire's new and daring annual collaboration project, knocks down the wall and puts the performer at the heart of the compositional process. This makes my job all the more difficult – in this context, surely my job becomes much less important. Fears of simply being forced to transcribe ideas for five days loom in my mind.
It was not to be. Today, we started penning some ideas down. Words were scribbled on the whiteboard from a Metro newspaper, rhythms strewn across some manuscript paper, chords being tried out before being notated in Sibelius, and a barrage of experimental 'cello effects trying to imitate the sounds of a Docklands Light Railway train with great success.
The compositional process, so far, has been exhilarating. It is completely understandable why great composers such as Benjamin Britten, spent so much time with instrumentalists and singers while writing his pieces. He wanted to understand every facet of each instruments' timbal, lyrical, and technical facility. It's the meeting of each other's knowledge that really provides a great melting pot of compositional ideas. I threw up an idea for a syncopated train-like rhythm which I suggested we move across the quartet from the 'cello up to the first violin, and before I knew it, chords were being tried out, automatically falling into an A sus chord using mainly open strings col legno. One of the string players suggested starting off slowly and speeding up just like a train would, and another suggested the 'cello make a 'doors opening' Tube sound. The meeting of of all our different experiences and knowledge was beginning to create a strong batch of ideas.
So far, I have learned that this is essential to modern composition – performers should be encouraged to explore their compositional abilities much more, and composers and performers should collaborate much more frequently than they generally do, especially in a conservatoire context, as these relationships tend to form the professional relationships which provide the foundation of our careers – but more than that, they provide the basis of creative connections which will inspire new and great music for the next generation of music-lovers. I can't wait to see what we produce by the end of this week, and further down the road, I am looking forward to writing much more with performers rather than just for them.
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