SHEVA COLLECTION
ENCOUNTERS …in-depth interviews with our artists and composers
PETER SEABOURNE composer
Issue 1: July 2016
W
hen I founded Sheva Collection
in 2006, I was filled with contrasting feelings: joy, anxiety, excitement, uncertainty. After ten years I feel it is important to try to make an appraisal, and I have to say that I am proud of what has been achieved.Sheva has released a significant number of CDs and among them there are landmark recordings: for example the complete piano and violin-piano works by Sir Charles Villiers Stanford, presented by two first class artists, Christopher Howell and Alberto Bologni. I have also helped young artists to gain international exposure, by providing them with the opportunity to record discs. Another crucial aspect of Sheva has been the establishment of a collaboration with Peter Seabourne (to whom this issue is devoted). He is an important contemporary composer from England who, during this time, has also become a close friend. Like other music lovers, I am a voracious reader of musical magazines and web sites. At the same time, of course, I value deeply discussing musical matters with all the artists I encounter. These two strands had remained separate but a few months ago they came together; the result of this convergence was the idea to publish a series of conversations with “my� artists which might be of wider interest. This first issue is dedicated to Peter Seabourne. Years ago, during a conversation with the violinist Alberto Bologni, he mentioned an English composer with a wealth of ideas. This immediately prompted me to research his work online and offer the opportunity to present it through my label. Since that time I have published seven discs of his music which have had excellent reviews in many international journals. I still remember the first one, recorded in my studio with virtuoso pianist, Giovanni Santini. Equally memorable was a trip to Lucca, one of the most beautiful towns in the world, to record another disc, this time with the young and gifted pianist, Fabio Menchetti. The complete list of my recordings of Peter Seabourne is available on Sheva's website. Below you will find a conversation between us. I hope you will enjoy reading it and that it will encourage you to investigate further his gorgeous music. Ermanno Bemporad De Stefani
Steps Volume 2: Studies of Invention ‌inspired by the life and work of Leonardo da Vinci
"These discs confirm no mean artistry within the solo piano domain." Gramophone
Peter Seabourne Peter Seabourne (b.1960 United Kingdom) grew up in a large farmhouse with his grandmother. Somehow this fostered a childhood passion for composing. He won a place in 1980 to Cambridge to read Music, studying with Robin Holloway. In 1983 he moved to York University, taking a doctorate in composition. During these student years he won two national prizes and was widely performed in the UK. However, he became increasingly dissatisfied with his work, and grew to hate much in the new music world. This led to him to abandon writing for some twelve years. In 2001 a chance set of circumstances caused a sudden reawakening; there “arrived” a new voice, and a flood of pieces, including concerti, symphonies and other orchestral music, along with chamber, vocal and solo works. Since 2004 he has won six international prizes and has been commissioned many times. His work has been played across Europe, China and the Americas from New York to Yerevan, Beijing to Rio de Janiero, and been broadcast in several countries. His recordings on Sheva Contemporary label have drawn positive reviews from major publications such as Gramophone, BBC Music Magazine, The Independent and The Strad. Seabourne’s language stands apart from much in contemporary writing, for which he retains a large measure of distrust. It is overtly communicative, emotionally powerful, often lyrical and always rhythmically inventive. He follows his own path...
Steps Volume 3: Arabesques ‌inspired by a visit to The Alhambra, Granada
"Rendered with a telling sensuous reserve" Gramophone
What are the advantages and disadvantages of being a composer in the 21st Century? Slightly to misquote Dickens, "It is the best of times, it is the worst of times, it is the age of wisdom, it is the age of foolishness, ....we have everything before us, we have nothing before us..." Yes, being a composer these days is a true Tale of Two Cities... On the one hand, compared to fifty years ago, we find ourselves freed from the tyrannical dogmas of the mid-20th avant garde and its prophets, and the accompanying adolescent need to shock. Now at least we can each find our own expressive means, roots and vocabulary in peace, even if there are a great many options open to us. Music no longer moves in one direction, indeed the multiplicity and co-existence of various approaches is, of itself, catalytic. ...But yet, the world increasingly does not want any of us, no matter what our particular voice. Perhaps it still remembers having its ears burned fifty years ago, though I suspect it is more that the whole notion of listening to serious music (or simply of listening at all) has become a gravely endangered species. With noble exceptions, the trend is increasingly for audiences and promoters to take refuge in "comfortable, old friends" (or cheap substitutes) rather than exploring new sounds. Emptying halls are thus doubly bad news for today's composers. Unfortunately that is not all: celebrity culture, "music as an industry", everything-for-free, the supremacy of the visual, gadgets galore, worship of the ephemeral, glorification of the past, the notion that "all things are equally valid, just different", the banality of social media, and the universal lack of time and thinking space... - all these make formidable foes in the battle to be heard (let alone listened to). Many of today's tools are undoubtedly godsends: music software, any number of ways to interact with fellow musicians, recordings etc... Through these a living composer can reach far beyond what he might have expected two hundred years ago. Yet the very "easiness" of these aides convinces rather too many people that they are composers (sadly, promoters and broadcasters often seem unable to tell!). Amidst the good and bad, though, the inner necessity to write remains just as elemental and vital as it did for any composer of the past. How many of us have bottom drawers brimming over with works we know that we will never hear? We do it because we must. The struggle to find one's inner voice, and establish a personal vocabulary has perhaps become too self-conscious; a product of the very lack of a wider stylistic consensus. However, more fundamentally it is neither easier nor harder now than for any post-Classical composer - ....just tough!
Steps Volume 5: Sixteen Scenes Before A Crucifixion ‌inspired by paintings of Caravaggio
"This is compelling music" The Classical Reviewer
After some considerable time, I have discovered like-minds: composers and performers whose aesthetics overlap somewhat with my own. Our connectedness is mutually beneficial, enriching and supportive in a way that would have been far less easy in earlier times. I wonder, though, if Haydn in his Esterhazy isolation, with fewer distractions (and a captive orchestra!) might just have had the better overall deal. I understand. It seems that, as with all human activities, success and failure are always present in the composer’s life: "Que sera sera" to quote Doris Day. There is a point in your answer I would like to pursue. You say "Now at least we can each find our own expressive means, roots and vocabulary in peace�. It seems to me that each composer looks for his personal language, his path.However, I think this is an obstacle for listeners because they need first of all to become acclimatised to the language before they can appreciate the beauty and the meaning of the piece. If I want to read a book written in a foreign language, I have to learn this language before I can go deeply into the plot. What is your opinion about this? Undoubtedly the situation for the modern listener is less straightforward than at many times in the past. Going to a church in Tudor England or an opera house in Baroque Rome would probably have produced relatively few stylistic surprises. In Classical times you were, as a composer, either Mozart or Haydn, or "a rather lesser Mozart or Haydn". Though, of course, there was always constant experimentation and evolution, a good deal of the musical language was widely shared and thus familiar. Additionally, there was little interest in or knowledge of other musical styles they were largely forgotten or seen as discarded and old fashioned. The "current account" held only what was contemporary. Yet this age is completely different. In all areas of life multiplicity, variety, simultaneity, co-existance and contradiction are deeply entrenched. We accept as a matter of course that when we walk down the street we will see people dressed in everything from saris to jeans, from the latest fashion to retro costumes. We think nothing of a Baroque church next to a high-rise glass tower. In the concert hall we, likewise, flit from a Classical period overture to a Romantic concerto and a modern symphony, as if their juxtaposition were quite normal. Paradoxically, to return directly to your question, my worry is that this very acceptance of diverse languages, all simultaneously cohabiting, is that we sometimes focus too much on the superficial sound surface rather than on the deeper substance and craft behind it. Simply catagorising a stylistic genre often seems enough: "Oh he does quarter tones, she does rock/classical fusion" etc... It worries me greatly to be told "this is not bad music, it is just in a different genre,"or "you can't criticise this composer concerning line and harmony because he doesn't work that way."
Viola Dolorosa … including Seabourne’s monumental Pietà
"A composer of immense emotional clout." The Classical Reviewer
Our very acceptance of everything increasingly shows our discrimination of nothing! Variety has numbed us! Of course for some people there is no acceptance at all. For them "nasty modren music that hurts my ears and where I cannot hear a tune" will probably never be beaten into familiarity, or be loved. But 'twas ever thus... Serious music is and will remain essentially a specialist area that just occasionally enters the wider consciousness. Given with the parlous state of music education in schools, and the minimal interface between art music and the public, this is only likely to get worse. But, I think your question might have meant something different. As a musician yourself what you were possibly alluding to was the fact that fully to get inside a new voice or musucal language requires an especial effort, a thoroughness and a persistence. This you may or may not decide to devote to the task, assuming you even have the opportunity - how many pieces are played beyond their first (and usually last) performance? For you to make the decision to engage, some aspect must illicit a response, probably a purely instinctive one. And to my mind this brings me to the crucial point: that I, as a composer, must strike that balance between being true to my vision, yet aware of my need to find a point between us that will let you connect in some way with my work. I reject absolutely both the iconoclastic "only on my terms" approach, and the pandering to lowest common denominator. One sees far too much of both of these. So in my own work I have tried to embrace, not reject, our shared, familiar heritage - to cherish its resonances and connections; but, equally, to reassemble its constituent elements and facets, conjuring a personal, unvisited landscape. My hope is that through this partial familiarity the listener has at least a small paddle in his canoe with which to start negotiating my musical river. Whether by striking originality or through a reconfiguration of the already known, finding and developing a voice is always a composer's goal - ultimately why we as listeners love Beethoven, Mahler or Britten. For me the worst thing is for a composer to be incompetent (even if published by a major house!); However, nearly as bad is to be competent but voiceless.
Has recording your work affected your compositional development in any way? I suppose the straightforward answer is that we all learn from every encounter and new experience. All musical engagements are a source of learning for the open-minded. One thing leads to another‌ No matter how certain a composer is of his vision, technique or language, or how confident of his inner ear, every time his work comes to life in the hands of performers a multitude of new possibilities emerges; unforeseen aspects appear,
Music for String Orchestra ‌including This is a song for you alone
"So full of interest and energy as well as being obviously quite emotional" Sir Charles Mackerras
even problems to be resolved, but also affirmations and the simple but potent "breath of life". Further, an interaction takes place between what was thought to be significant and what relatively peripheral - the page starts to speak independently! This brings to the composer reflection, evaluation and a little glimpse of future potential! Under the particular microscope of recording, all these aspects are magnified tenfold! Every note is examined and re-examined in enormous detail. Repeated playbacks and discussion certainly leave no refuge available in woolly generalisation! The performer, producer, one's own ears and, above all, those stern microphones are judge and jury! In addition, there is also something peculiar to the act of listening to recorded sound; here our perception is quite different from listening to a live performance. We focus on a series of details, perhaps, rather than a wider, interactive experience as one does in a concert. If one is the trees, the other is the forest. To be a good woodsman one must learn how to understand (and love) both. Three days of recording and weeks of editing sharpen the senses. How can one fail to learn and develop from all this (...if in no other way than to make one infinitely more careful next time!)? Years ago one of my composition teachers regularly jabbed me with, "Where did you get that note from?..." The recording studio mercilessly asks the same question. So, yes... recordings have taught me a great deal. I listen far more acutely as a result, and try to be meticulously accurate in my writing. This said, though, I feel my actual style and language have not really been directly affected in any fundamental way. However, making recordings has often generated new ideas. For example, perhaps a small passage has needed to be repeated many times (a weak note on the instrument, a creaking piano pedal etc..) - this hitherto peripheral, unnoticed moment then starts to suggest in my mind further possibilities: a texture that could be exploited, or a figuration that could go its own way. VoilĂ - another embryo! As someone who composes almost continuously, the studio often finds me secretly playing with, and squirrelling away such little ideas for those so very British "rainy days"....
More information, scores and recordings can be found on www.peterseabourne.com
Chamber music Sonata Appassionata - On the blue Shore of Silence - A music beginning
S
CONT EM
PORARY
u rn e Peter Seabo
On the blue ssionata ~ Sonata Appa
g music beginnin ence ~ A shore of sil
Olga Shutko Ostap Shutko
agan Myroslav Dr
"Remarkable, imaginative, beautiful, and original. Finding an inner voice that speaks to the world is a precious gift." Jura Margulis
Why did you fall silent? To be an honest composer one must be able to look in the compositional mirror each morning and find something of integrity staring back! I fear that some composers either possess no mirror or only one with broken glass. In fact I, too, had such an item, but it was only after some thirty years of overlooking all the distortions that I came to realise it. Until this time I had found myself on the conveyor belt that the music business lines up for the next young "up and coming". Throughout my twenties my pieces were played in festivals and major London venues; they won national prizes. But slowly the realisation grew that I had no real technique and still less a voice - my mirror grew more honest. At the same time I found the whole new music world increasingly less congenial. It rang hollow. An unstoppable wave of doubt resulted and in the late 1980s I simply stopped, falling silent for twelve years or so. When I re-emerged in 2001 it was with a voice that seemed already formed and coherent. Finally I knew what I was doing, and how to do it. Where this came from, or how it formed I do not know, but somehow my dormancy seemed to have, quite by itself, sorted and rearranged things. Silence had proved necessary, if inconvenient. There must, perhaps, be ashes before the phoenix can rise. What direction do you see your work taking in the future? Who can be certain? What I can say is that I have always believed that the best art creates itself. So much of the worst music is "manufactured" or forced. I hear a great deal that to me does not ring true; that has been conjured to press the right buttons, to conform to the current fashion, to look clever on the page, to impress with a veneer of "accepted clichÊs�. When I compose I have the feeling of "living" the work, organically, even sub-consciously. Like riding the wave, weaving and ducking as a surfer, "in the moment". I want the listener also to feel that journey is alive, its outcome uncertain - as if the music were being composed only as they listened. I wish to become ever closer to this ideal - in a sense to disappear within the music itself. My impression is that, most likely, my language will not change significantly - not for me are Stravinskian "periods". But one cannot always tell where an open door leads. Each turn in the compositional process presents another possibility which invites a new response. So, no doubt, evolutionary developments will occur in what and how I write. I do, however, foresee there being a predominance of larger scale pieces. Currently a 4th Symphony is in progress and this cycle will grow, I hope. My Steps piano series has already reached five volumes, and further concerti are planned. I increasingly feel the need to paint my music on broad canvases.
Steps Volume 4: Libro di Canti Italiano …impressions of the Italian character
“shot through with acute poignancy” Gramophone
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