Panorama de Leeuw XII plaatst Aktie Notenkraker in context van zijn tijd

Hoe nuttig en noodzakelijk was de beruchte Aktie Notenkraker op 17 november 1969? Die vraag beantwoordde ik gisteren op de Concertzender in de twaalfde aflevering van Panorama de Leeuw, een kroniek van de hedendaagse muziek in Nederland aan de hand van mijn biografie Reinbert de Leeuw, mens of melodie. Net als in mijn boek plaats ik in de radio-uitzendingen het leven van De Leeuw en diens kompanen in de context van zijn tijd.

Zo belichtte ik in aflevering XI uitvoerig het studentenoproer in Tilburg in oktober 1969, dat succesvoller was dan de hierop geïnspireerde Aktie Notenkraker. Dankzij de opstand in Tilburg ging het Brabants Orkest vaker muziek van levende componisten uitvoeren. Dat geldt niet voor het Concertgebouworkest, waarop ‘de Notenkrakers’ het op 17 november 1969 gemunt hadden. Hierna presenteerde het orkest namelijk eerder minder dan meer moderne noten.

Minder vreemd dan het lijkt, want van oudsher had het Amsterdamse orkest veel aandacht besteed aan avant-gardisten, wier muziek hierna echter steeds vaker door gespecialiseerde ensembles werd uitgevoerd. De Aktie Notenkraker was des te opmerkelijker aangezien het orkest daarvoor al geregeld muziek van Reinberts kompanen Louis Andriessen, Peter Schat en Jan van Vlijmen op de lessenaars had gezet. Sterker nog, op de dag van het protest gaf Andriessen een opdracht voor een blokfluitconcert terug. Hoewel de Aktie Notenkraker in wezen nut noch noodzaak had, ging deze de muzikale annalen in als baanbrekend.

Met Sofia Goebaidoelina na afloop van de viering van haar 80e verjaardag in het Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ, 23 oktober 2011

Het toeval wil dat ik op 1 oktober in het Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ de eerste les verzorgde van mijn nieuwe cursus hedendaagse muziek, bij een concert van het Asko|Schönberg o.l.v. Reinbert de Leeuw. Thema van de les was ‘De Russen’, want Reinbert dirigeerde onder anderen twee stukken van Sofia Goebaidoelina en Galina Oestvolskaja. Deze powerladies hebben ook veel betekend voor mijn carrière. Ik schreef erover voor Cultuurpers.

Ook de rest van de maand was ik druk met nieuwe muziek. Zo interviewde ik Giya Kantsjeli op 18 september over zijn stuk Dixi, tijdens de inleiding op een concert van het Radio Filharmonisch Orkest en het Groot Omroepkoor in het AVROTROSVrijdagconcert. Ik maakte voor de live uitzending op Radio 4 ook een reportage van een repetitie van dit grootse werk.

Met Dirk Luijmes in Muziekcentrum van de Omroep 24-9-2015

Een week later speelde het collectief Ludwig een concert in deze radioserie onder de titel ‘Met psalmenpomp en hakkebord’, waarover ik ook een voorbeschouwing schreef. Voor Radio 4 sprak ik met Dirk Luijmes over het harmonium (psalmenpomp”) en met Jan Rokyta over de cimbalom (‘hakkebord’). Luijmes soleerde in het First Harmonium Concerto van Martijn Padding; Rokyta schitterde in het stuk da capo van Peter Eötvös en het Cimbalom Concerto van Florian Maier.

Met Jan Rokyta in Muziekcentrum van de Omroep 24-9-2015

Afgelopen vrijdag 2 oktober was ik de hele dag in touw voor een portret van de Oekraïense componist Valentin Silvestrov, wiens Zevende Symfonie die avond zijn Nederlandse première beleefde in het AVROTROSVrijdagconcert. Een bijzondere ervaring, want de 77-jarige componist verlaat zelden zijn flatje in Kiev en spreekt alleen Russisch. Gelukkig vond ik een begenadigde tolk in jonge, de eveneens Oekraïense componist Maxim Shalygin, die tegenwoordig in Den Haag woont.

Silvestrov bleek een ongelooflijke spraakwaterval en het monteren van al die verschillende talen (Russisch – Engels – Nederlands) was een hels karwei, maar het is me gelukt; ik kreeg veel complimenten voor mijn portret.

Met Maxim Shalygin & Valentin Silvestrov in Hotel Karel V Utrecht 2-10-2015

Het concert was een groot succes, met een minutenlange ovatie voor een dankbare Silvestrov, die te bescheiden was om het podium te beklimmen en het applaus vanuit de zaal ontving. Bijzonder was dat ook Giya Kantsjeli naar TivoliVredenburg gekomen was; hij is een goede vriend van Silvestrov.

Met Giya Kantsjeli – slagwerker Konstantin Napolov & Maxim Shalygin na afloop van het concert met Silvestrov in TivoliVredenburg, 2-10-2015

Een stuk jonger is de Grieks-Nederlandse componist Calliope Tsoupaki, over wier nieuwe opera Mariken in de tuin der lusten ik al in mijn vorige twee updates berichtte. Ik schreef voor het muziekblad Luister een interview met haar en publiceerde gisteren nog eens vier vragen die ik haar stelde.

#AktieNotenkraker #AVRPTROSVrijdagconcert #BrabantsOrkest #CalliopeTsoupaki #CollectiefLudwig #Concertgebouworkest #Concertzender #Cultuurpers #DirkLuijmes #FlorianMaier #GalinaOestvolslaka #GiyaKantsjeli #GrootOmroepkoor #JanRokyta #KonstantinNapolov #MarikenInDeTuinDerLusten #MartijnPadding #MaximShalygin #mensOfMelodiePanoramaDeLeeuw #PeterEötvös #PierreBoulez #RadioFilharmonischOrkest #ReinbertDeLeeuw #SofiaGoebaidoelina #TheaDerks #ValentinSilvestrov

Sound sculpture for Jan Wolff

Four years after Jan Wolff (1941-2012) died, he’ll be honoured with a sound sculpture on the border of the Amsterdam IJ. It was designed by the Dutch composer Martijn Padding at the request of Muziekgebouw aan ’t IJ, and will be launched on Monday 22 August, the day of his death. It was thanks to Wolff’s relentless battle that the iconic glass and steel Muziekgebouw aan ’t IJ opened its doors in 2005.

It had taken the former horn player of the Concertgebouw Orchestra a quarter century to realize his dream of an attractive concert hall for new music. This was to replace the small IJsbreker with its dreadful acoustics, that he had established on the Amstel river 25 years earlier. The IJsbreker was the first concert hall purely dedicated to new music and it soon gained world renown, by the quality of its programmes, the visiting musicians and composers.

Jan Wolff (c) Serge Ligtenberg

Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ was officially opened by three solemn strokes on a huge gong by Queen Beatrix in 2005, and was unofficially dubbed ‘Wolffinarium’. Soon after its opening however, Wolff was ousted by other parties, who considered his programming to be substandard. It’s one of the darker pages in the formative years of Muziekgebouw aan ’t IJ.  Therefore it is good news that the present management has decided to honour Wolff and do justice to history.

Aptly the sound sculpture is called ‘Huil van de Wolff’ (The Howl of the Wolff) and will be placed on the borders of the IJ, close to Muziekgebouw. Its music will be determined by meteorological data around it, such as humidity and wind speed. On a metaphysical level, it is hoped Wolff may respond from on high – as wolves are wont to communicate in call & response fashion.

Whether or not Jan Wolff will indeed become a ‘howling wolf’, time will tell.

In 2022 the Dutch Horn Society named a medal of honour after Jan Wolff.

#IJsbreler #JanWolff #MartijnPadding #MuziekgebouwAanTIJ #TheaDerks

Jan Wolff (foto Serge Ligtenberg)

Contemporary Classical - Thea Derks

Wat ‘hoorde’ de dove Beethoven? Martijn Padding formuleert een antwoord in Glimpse

Vrijdag 8 december speelt het Residentie Orkest in het AVROTROS Vrijdagconcert Beethovens Tweede Symfonie en het Tweede Vioolconcert van Prokofjev. Een niet direct voor de hand liggende combinatie, maar het cement tussen de opgewekte muziek van de Duitser en de opruiende klanken van de controversiële Rus vormt Glimpse van de Nederlandse componist Martijn Padding.

Hierin verklankt hij zijn visie op Beethovens Tiende Symfonie, waarvan alleen schetsen bestaan. Altijd in voor een geintje schreef Padding zijn 12 minuten durende stuk voor een orkest dat speelt op darmsnaren, maar het mag ook uitgevoerd worden op moderne instrumenten, zoals het Residentie Orkest nu doet.

Nederlands geluid

Padding heeft een naam hoog te houden op het gebied van tegendraadse composities en kreeg in 2016 de prestigieuze Johan Wagenaar Prijs. De jury noemde hem ‘veelzijdig, inventief, origineel en virtuoos in zijn instrumentaties. Zijn werk is dwars, eigengereid en heeft een onmiskenbaar Nederlands geluid.’

Vaak wordt Martijn Padding omschreven als vertegenwoordiger van de ‘Tweede Haagse School’, naar analogie van de ‘Haagse School’ rond Louis Andriessen bij wie hij studeerde aan het Koninklijk Conservatorium in Den Haag. Zelf zegt hij: ‘Die aanduiding wordt vaak verkeerd gebruikt. Het gaat bij componisten als Louis Andriessen en Diderik Wagenaar niet om het harde geluid, een beukende stijl, maar om een open houding. Dat herken ik in mijn eigen werk.’

Liever spreekt de componist van een Nederlandse manier van componeren. ‘Die zit hem in de volstrekte transparantie, zowel in het idee van een stuk als in de klank zelf. Wij hebben een zekere rechtlijnigheid van denken. Een Nederlandse kunstenaar zal nooit een zijpaadje inslaan. Dat maakt ook het verschil tussen pakweg de Italiaan Giralomo Frescobaldi en Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck, of tussen de Fransman Pierre Boulez en Louis Andriessen. Nederlanders zijn puur gefixeerd op de binnenkant van de compositie, op het bouwwerk.’

Publiek ‘bouwt’ zelf het klankbeeld op

Dat geldt ook voor Glimpse, dat Padding in 2010 componeerde als opmaat tot de integrale uitvoering van Beethovens 9 symfonieën in het Holland Festival door oudemuziekspecialisten Anima Eterna en Jos van Immerseel. Hij koos de orkestbezetting van Beethovens Geschöpfe des Prometheus en liet zich inspireren door diens muzikale schetsen.

‘Ik wilde een stuk schrijven over de stilte rondom Beethoven, en over de werveling in zijn hoofd waarmee de noten van een symfonie ontstaan’, zei Padding hierover. ‘Voor mijn stuk gebruik ik noten van Beethoven, maar het is vooral mijn fantasie over het scheppingsproces van Beethovens Tiende.’

Zo stelde hij zich voor hoe Beethoven voor zijn orkest zit en gaandeweg tot een compositie komt. ‘We maken als het ware het hele compositieproces mee, het orkest wordt gesymboliseerd door twee pauken. Hij denkt… de pauk klopt het hele stuk door… we horen een flard… hij denkt verder… nog een flard. Pas na driekwart van het stuk trekken de flarden zich samen tot een symfonisch moment.’ Aangezien Padding slechts ‘superzacht de contouren’ aanlevert dient het publiek, luisterend met de hand aan het oor het uiteindelijke klankbeeld als het ware zelf te realiseren.

Na de wereldpremière repte de Volkskrant van een ‘tantaliserend proces, waarin motieven en akkoorden komen langs waaien als uit een verre zaal waarvan iemand af en toe de deur even opendoet. Zelden komt de muziek helder door: Beethoven was immers potdoof op het eind van zijn leven. Het fascinerende is dat Padding met dit wazige, maar zelden tot gearticuleerde gedaante uitgroeiende klankmateriaal een stuk heeft gemaakt dat zowel zijn eigen vingerafdrukken draagt als die van Beethoven. Hij weet de toehoorder de illusie te geven dat hij werkelijk ervaart wat zich tussen de dove oren van Beethoven heeft afgespeeld.’

Het concert vormt onderdeel van de radioserie AVROTROSVrijdagconcert en wordt live uitgezonden op Radio 4.

#AnimaEterna #AVROTROSVrijdagconcert #Beethoven #Glimpse #JosVanImmerseel #MartijnPadding #Prokofjev #ResidentieOrkest

The Netherlands: home to Calliope Tsoupaki and Genevieve Murphy

Attracted by the progressive musical climate, countless aspiring composers found their way to one of the Dutch conservatoires. Among them the Greek Calliope Tsoupaki (Piraeus, 1963) and the Scottish Geneviève Murphy (Dundee, 1988). Why did they come to the Netherlands and how has this impacted their artistry? A double interview I wrote for the French internet magazine Hémisphère son.

When and why did you decide to move to the Netherlands?

Tsoupaki
I decided to leave Greece in the 1980s, the ‘Golden Age’ of contemporary music, with great composers such as Louis Andriessen. I wanted to explore this world, expand my musical horizon, learn, create, get to understand my talents and discover what kind of composer I wanted to be.

Calliope Tsoupaki (c) Michiel van Nieuwkerk

I’d heard from colleagues back in Athens that the contemporary music scene in the Netherlands was flourishing, and Andriessen once came to Piraeus for a concert with ensemble De Volharding and Frederick Rzewski. Unfortunately I missed this, but I went to Darmstadt in 1984 and 1986, where I met the Dutch delegation. I longed to be a part of this amazing contemporary music practice, and decided to go study with Andriessen in the Hague. After a year of preparations, I left for good on a sunny Sept. 2 afternoon in 1988.

Murphy
I moved to The Hague Royal Conservatoire in 2011 to do a Masters in composition, having completed my Bachelor at Birmingham Royal Conservatoire. This maintains warm ties with The Hague and my teacher Joe Cutler suggested I visit and consider applying. At the time I was dividing my time between Birmingham and London.

Genevieve Murphy (c) Vera Rijks

I worked with Turner Prize winner Martin Creed on his ballet Work No. 1020, and became inspired to choreograph a dance work that combined with my compositions. I wanted to create a work where the dancers would have ownership of their surroundings, making sound, trigger light etc. The Hague Conservatoire was open to this idea and I felt excited to enter into new territories.

What, if any, difficulties did you encounter?

Tsoupaki
My difficulties mainly sprang from my artistic choices, which were strong and quite different from what was expected of a young composer in the 80s and 90s. Those days it was all about complex ‘abstract’ music. I focused on very melodic elements and structures, which many found hard to stomach.

Being a young woman composer wasn’t easy either. On the one hand, I easily attracted attention, but on the other I found it difficult to be taken seriously. Yet I was very determined not to let anything get in my way and succeeded in writing the music I wanted – and have it all performed. Fortunately, audiences and many musicians liked my work. Already in my first year several I was commissioned to compose new pieces. This felt like a victory and helped me a lot.

Murphy
I was aware I was entering into a discipline (dance) I had no real knowledge about. I had to be brave and slightly mad in order to throw myself into such a different art form, for I needed to research intensely in order to find my own language and approach. Next to this I continued composing for ensembles assigned by the conservatoire, so I was working hard to enrich two languages.

I am glad I persevered. I approached it like a composer, and developed a way of notating and creating systems. By being so on top of my decisions, I learned much about the things I couldn’t control. I carried those lessons into my career thereafter.

Did you easily find your way in the modern music scene?

Tsoupaki
As I said, my personal artistic choices were so obvious and different that I got negative criticism and had some unpleasant experiences… But this is part of any composer’s life.

Murphy
After graduating from The Hague I was exhausted. I had worked so hard and was going through some personal difficulties. I moved to Amsterdam and continued to compose but I didn’t land straight into commissions. Though I did compose for choreographer David Middendorp, and wrote some graduation pieces for theatre students.

It’s incredibly hard to graduate from any art degree – you pass through a state of feeling lost, yet must never give up. Emotionally I was going downhill, so I returned to Scotland temporarily for therapy.

Which institutes/ensembles/persons were most important for you in getting settled in the Netherlands?

Tsoupaki
First of all, the Royal Conservatoire in the Hague that welcomed me as a composition student. This opened doors for new opportunities and for becoming part of the Dutch music scene. Another super place was the Ysbreker, an amazing concert hall specializing in new music. It hosted the most radical pioneers and was at the same time a café where I could hang around with them and get to know their work.

Royal Conservatoire in Amare, The Hague

Murphy
Having returned to Scotland, Martijn Padding, my previous tutor from The Hague, asked me to work with him – editing sound. He was aware of what I was going through, but he trusted me and this kept me afloat somehow. I came back to NL for the premiere of Homage to (and with) Anner, and I met up with Joël Bons, artistic director of Nieuw Ensemble, whom I showed my portfolio.

Most of these compositions lacked true feeling and were both too heady and little authentic. However, I showed him Old Friends, a piece I had made in my spare time, not wanting to overthink but to just enjoy. It was a snippet of spontaneity – one minute long, pop influenced. He said: ‘We need more of this in contemporary music’, and invited me to compose for An Evening Of Today, a concert with Nieuw Ensemble in Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ Amsterdam. Delighted I could make something I actually enjoyed, I then created F.I.N.E for them that got the ball rolling in my career and I moved back to NL.

Could you give a short description of your approach to music?

Tsoupaki
Personal
Direct
Agile
Reflective
Multi layered
Narrative in many levels
Warm
Seeking for another way to say things
Sharing emotions
Strict and sharp and free
Clear
Vibrant
Very melodic

Murphy
First I think about the concept, then the atmosphere, followed by timbre, textures and general energy. I also consider the context and ask myself ‘how are the audience seated? Are they seated at all? Are we in a concert hall, or outside?’ Then I start composing the notes.

Has your own approach to music changed in the period you’ve lived in NL? If so, how?

Tsoupaki
My music is changing all the time. I have been developing many facets of my artistic and compositional self. I have composed chamber music for baroque instruments and middle Eastern instruments, created hybrid works such as my requiem Liknon, the adventure piece Odysseus, the play for music and scent Narcissus, the hybrid St. Luke Passion etc. These days I am writing orchestral works, bringing my very personal sound into the orchestra repertoire.

Murphy
Yes, I draw in all sorts of influences, not only music. NL is very rich culturally, so I go to see all sorts of art. My work is presented between concert halls, art galleries and theatre spaces. I combine free improvisation and performance in my work and have a band with Andy Moor & others that I am developing more and more – from playing with classical musicians to punk.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z77ectu91Zw&ab_channel=KunstforumDenHaag

I also include the highland bagpipes in my compositions. This came about while playing in a collective with Amsterdam based artists. They found out I had learned the instrument while growing up, and told me to bring them over from Scotland. So I did and never looked back! 

In how far does your personal life play a role in your compositions?

Tsoupaki
It plays a very important role, e.g. my motherhood. You are no longer on your own but realize you depend on others. By accepting this dependence, you understand that everything is relative and that one’s personal human values of loving and caring for others are equally important as one’s creative self. I used to think life is more important than a piece of music, but I find each day that I’m giving my life to my art. A paradox that makes life worth living.

Murphy
All of my work is personal. My artistic approach is diverse, but my concepts are always based on psychology and disability. I share my work from a personal perspective, either from an experience I’ve heard about, or one that I have personally witnessed. I never make a point of being Scottish but if the work truly is mine, the Scottish aspects come through nonetheless.

You work with artists from other disciplines and employ multimedia. How does this affect the outcome of a piece?

Tsoupaki
I like this question! I am not a ‘typical classical composer’, which means I am not at my desk or piano all the time studying music of a colleague in order to read, listen and study. Instead I am smelling perfumes, visiting an exhibition, watching films, trying to understand how it is to be in a club and how music manipulates us… This is a multidisciplinary kind of life.

I think films have affected the development of form in my music more than traditional concepts and techniques. Also, the interaction between music and dance in a club is amazing, for it makes you perceive things in a different way. You can find new forms of communicating and get acquainted with how younger people approach the world.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4dJxU0kl-4g&ab_channel=NieuwAmsterdamsPeil

My multi-sensory composition Narcissus: A Play for Music and Scent was an experiment. Live onstage we diffused scents that had been specially developed for the music – not after the score was finished, but in a parallel creative process. I smelled a fragrance and thought about what music to write, while scent expert Tanja Deurlo listened to musical fragments and then created the next ‘scent note’. The result is a ritualistic one hour piece, as a journey of Narcissus to the underworld. A crazy, fictional, blooming flower lingers in the air as an echo of scent and music become one!

Murphy
I worked with fashion designer Tom van den Borght. He made two incredible outfits for At The Spot Where I Find Myself, a solo for theatre. Without his contribution I wouldn’t have created the piece I did. My work entered a new dimension. Both due to the visual and physical presence of the outfits and their impracticality: they were incredibly heavy – 45 kg altogether.

In view of the current gender issue: would you say that being a woman composer has ever been a disadvantage?

Tsoupaki
If I would say that there was never any discrimination, I would tell a lie. But in my case I had no time to reflect to that. In Athens in the ‘80ies some argued that women can’t compose or drive cars, or whatever, but I simply lacked the time and energy to take this seriously.  

I made decisions for which I needed all my power. – To leave my home country, adjust to the situation in the Netherlands, study and focus on how to write my music. Looking back now, I see it was not easy at all. My teachers back home never saw a composer in me: I was a girl, so I did not fit the picture. Some friends even warned me that studying composition would cost me my relationships!!!

Murphy
I have found in the past that I have been taken less seriously than my male peers. Though my work is very serious, I approach it with playfulness and humour. I have been called ‘balloon girl’ because of using balloons – yet the concept was about insecurity and breaking down forms.

When I perform my music, I often get a response that I am like Laurie Anderson or Björk. – Many female peers get the same feedback. It really is only evidence of a limited knowledge for experimental female artists. I find this sexist and ignorant. It would be like male artists only ever being compared to Michael Jackson and Elvis… or The Beatles!

This article was written for Hémisphère son, with support from the Dutch Performing Arts Fund

#CalliopeTsoupaki #GenevieveMurphy #HemisphèreSon #LouisAndriessen #MartijnPadding

Karmit Fadael writes Violin Concerto Mimesis: ‘Inevitably you put the stamp of your identity on your music’

Karmit Fadael started out as a violinist but is now a much sought-after composer. She regularly appears on radio and TV and has written an impressive number of works for renowned ensembles and festivals. On 11 April, her Violin Concerto Mimesis will be premiered at Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ in Amsterdam. She composed it for Pieter van Loenen, on a commission from the North Netherlands Orchestra. The following two days it will be performed in De Oosterpoort Groningen and TivoliVredenburg Utrecht.

Karmit Fadael was born in 1996 in Treuchtlingen, a town south of Nuremberg, but grew up in Sneek. On her website we read, among other things, that she began her musical career on the violin, but started composing after a ‘forced’ participation in the annual composition competition of the Netherlands Wind Ensemble. That sounds somewhat disturbing. Who forced her what exactly did this entail?

Karmit Fadael (c) Gregor Servais

Fadael laughs: ‘Forced indeed sounds rather negative, it was just a compulsory assignment for my final music exam at Bogerman College in Sneek. Our teacher Anne Oosterhaven had us compose pieces on the computer with a notation programme, to gain insight into music history. When we covered the Baroque, we all wrote a chaconne. In addition, in our exam years we had to enter the composition competition of the Nederlands Wind Ensemble.’

Composition contest gives confidence

Even though it was compulsory, it was a fun experience: ‘The first time, the theme was “They say love”. That was ten years ago now and to my surprise I was admitted to the next round. In workshops with an arranger, I got the opportunity to develop my piece further, which was great . In 2013, I won the NBE Young KC prize, which consisted of three workshops with Calliope Tsoupaki. The course with the Nederlands Wind Ensemble gave me self-confidence in composing, which was apparently something I could do and enjoyed.’

Where many violinists swap the bow for the baton, Fadael took up composing. Are there common grounds between composing and making music yourself? ‘In both professions you can express your own voice. When I was still playing the violin, I strived to interpret the score as faithfully and personally as possible. The notes are leading, of course, but there is always something that makes your sound “personal”, not only in the sound itself but also in your way of phrasing. This happens partly unconsciously. The same goes for composing: you almost inevitably put the stamp of your identity and your subconscious on your music.’

Going for it one hundred percent

In 2014, she went to study composition at the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague, where she was taught by Tsoupaki, Guus Janssen and Martijn Padding. How have they shaped her? ‘All three are fantastic composers, and incredibly skilled; I learned a lot from each. With Martijn I think first of all of his attitude to the profession, incredibly down-to-earth and disciplined: you just have to do it, make the effort. Guus has a very free spirit and taught me to look at existing forms from a different angle. Calliope is a rock; she taught me that when I believe in something, I have to go for it one hundred per cent’.

In an earlier interview, she called herself a ‘chaotic person’. Again, that sounds more negative than intended: ‘I am a terribly chaotic person,’ Fadael acknowledges, ‘but I see that as a positive thing. I have no agenda, I’m a blabbermouth and I can turn a room into a mess within 30 seconds. This also means that I can impulsively change my plans to do something I think is important at that moment. This trait makes me smile at myself at times, it teaches me not to take things too seriously. – I don’t get easily upset if I break something of value. In terms of composing, my attention patterns may be a bit fragmented and chaotic, but I can work well this way. It is simply part of the process, of who I am.’

Pen and paper versus computer

In high school, Fadael learned to compose with a computer programme; nowadays she uses pen and paper. ‘With a new piece, I first think about structures and ideas and what I want in the first place. Then I fiddle a bit on my violin or sing, later I work it out on paper and only then do I switch to a notation programme. Writing by hand is more personal, it requires more effort and also takes a lot of time – especially erasing something. On the computer, those are just actions of milliseconds, and because of the conversion to a midi sound, you can immediately hear how it sounds. That instant feedback breaks something in my imagination. It makes the music sound mechanical, while in my head it sounds so natural.’

What was her reaction when Pieter van Loenen asked her to compose a Violin Concerto for him? ‘I was incredibly happy, but also anxious because of the scale of the commission. I necessarily wanted to do it incredibly well and do him justice. Pieter has an enchanting, clear sound and plays with extreme precision. This creates a very sincere form of musicality; he will never do anything that is not necessary. When the music calls for it, his interpretation is truly intimate.’

Pieter van Loenen (c) Felix Quaedvlieg

‘For my commission, I started thinking about what fascinates me about the violin and about violin playing. That is the relationship between musician and instrument. The process of all those hours you spend together in your studio became a bit my thread for the concert. In the beginning you are still a bit searching, then you start studying extremely precisely, which sometimes leads to some frustration, at the end you let go of everything and just go.’

She did not inquire about any special wishes Van Loenen might have: ‘I did look into works he likes or likes to play, though. Such as Karl Amadeus Hartmann’ s Concerto funèbre or Alban Berg’s violin concerto. When I started composing, we sat together several times and worked on my sketches. This was important to me. Moreover, I wanted to hear how they sounded on his violin, played by him.’

Embracing idiosyncrasies

It will be neither a virtuoso spectacle nor a subdued exploration of the instrument’s possibilities, she continues. ‘I think the violin engages in a beautiful dialogue with the orchestra; soloist and ensemble do not oppose each other, but engage in conversation together. On the one hand, there are virtuoso moments; on the other, the concerto also offers space for the drama of the melody. I find the concept of virtuosity a bit complicated anyway. If a soloist plays something very simple in an insanely beautiful way, I think that is also a form of virtuosity.’

In terms of structure, Fadael follows tradition in her Violin Concerto: ‘It has three movements. The first is somewhat melancholic, in which the soloist engages with the orchestra. They mimic each other and take turns playing the role of “leader”; the soloist is still somewhat searching in his material. In the second movement, a struggle for leadership develops between violinist and ensemble, with all the emotions that go with it. In the third and final movement, the soloist plays a somewhat timid, lyrical melody, and in a way chooses for himself and his own voice. The struggle and the reflections on each other are over.’

As a title, she chose Mimesis, ancient Greek for imitation. ‘Especially in the first and second movements, there is a lot of imitation between soloist and orchestra. This imitation is never identical, but always has a personal twist. For me, the study process I chose as a thread symbolises (learning) processes in life. These often go through a curve of probing, imitating, friction and finally letting go of everything. As a human being, you can imitate till the cows come home, but in the end there is always a bit of personality in your interpretation, a human element. I think there is an awful lot of beauty in such “idiosyncrasies” and that it is important to embrace them.’

Before the concerts in Muziekgebouw and Oosterpoort I will talk with Karmit Fadael.

#CalliopeTsoupaki #GuusJanssen #KarmitFadael #MartijnPadding #NoordNederlandsOrkest #PieterVanLoenen

Composer Martijn Padding makes you smile

Greatest Hits (So Far!) perfectly captures the fresh, ironizing view with which composer Martijn Padding (Amsterdam, 1956) views the music world and himself. Deadpan he calls his album Greatest Hits, stretching the hyperbole even further by adding ‘so far’. In this way, he fabulously ridicules the toe-curling pomposity that so often clung to modern classical music in the past.

Padding studied with Louis Andriessen at the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague, where he later became head of the composition department himself. He recently retired and this album can be seen as a farewell gift in disguise. It was an idea of the director Henk van der Meulen, now also retired, to have top students of the institute record three of his solo concerts. The musicians, conductors and sound engineers were all but one trained there.

Padding enjoys writing solo concertos. After all, a dialogue between soloist and ensemble or orchestra in which one takes the other in tow or vice versa, offers ‘many opportunities to create a cunning trajectory, with or without obstacles and pitfalls’. The wayward composer cherishes the ‘underdog’ and has composed solo concertos for mandolin, harmonium and clavichord, among others. This once earned him the nickname ‘Head of pathetic Instruments’. Incidentally, the only unusual solo instrument on this album is a bass flute; concertos for cello and piano are legion.

Insipid samples draw longest straw

The CD opens with the cello concerto Last Words, which Padding composed in 2010 for cellist Doris Hochscheid and Asko|Schönberg. This title too is ironic: it does not refer to Christ’s seven last words on the cross, but to a keyboard that plays ‘insipid samples’ and yet ‘pulls the longest straw’ in the last movement.

This concerto is the only one to have the usual three movements. In ‘Preambulum’, the cellist plays rapidly ascending and descending runs against kitschy motifs from the ensemble, laced with crazy sounds from the keyboard and deliberately ‘false’ slides.

In the following ‘Aria’ the cellist interacts with individual woodwinds and strings and a hi-hat played by himself. The whole has a hesitant atmosphere, in which sparse pizzicati and short strokes are placed forlornly in space. In the final movement ‘Foforlalana’, the soloist posits lightning-fast runs through all registers against brisk staccato motifs from the ensemble and abrasive sounds from the keyboard. Cellist Diederik Smulders plays flawlessly, with an admirable sense of nuance.

Poetry translated into music

The one-movement concerto for bass flute and ensemble Slow Landscape (with thunder) version 2 was created in 2016, when Padding received the prestigious Dutch Johan Wagenaar Prize. He translated poetic phrases by bass flutist Felicia van den End (the only one who did not study in The Hague) into pitches and rhythms. Short motifs and exclamations from the bass flute gradually thread together to form a melodic argument. The ensemble quasi casually provides some punctuation and sometimes suggests a thunderstorm in the distance with a Balinese thunder drum. The music has a dreamy atmosphere.

The album concludes with the two-movement piano concerto Unequal Parts, in a revised version from 2016. ‘Fast’ starts with rapid, descending strings of notes from ensemble and pianist, from which a kind of hop-step-jump dance develops. An accordion briefly creates a repose with long notes in dialogue with the piano, after which piano and brass sprint noisily into the heights with virtuosic display and abrasive outbursts. The second movement. ‘Slow’, has a somewhat subdued atmosphere, the fabric is very transparent. Soloist Rutger Jansen plays wonderfully pointedly.

The three soloists are excellently accompanied by the Ensemble Academy of the Royal Conservatoire The Hague, conducted by Gregory Charette and Andreas Hanson (Unequal Parts); the recording technique is superb.

Greatest Hits (So Far!) paints a fine portrait of Martijn Padding. In passing, the album is a true flagship for the versatility of the Royal Conservatoire.

#AndreasHanson #DiederikSmulders #FeliciaVanDenEnd #GregoryCharette #LouisAndriessen #MartijnPadding #RutgerJansen

Composer Sara Zamboni: ‘The Royal Conservatoire felt like a playground’

Composer and pianist Sara Zamboni often works interdisciplinary and designs choreographies for her musicians. On 7 June, the New European Ensemble will premiere a new piece in The Hague, inspired by star author Ali Smith’s novel Summer.

Sara Zamboni (c) Alex Schröder

In 2014, Sara Zamboni (1990) moved from Italy to the Netherlands to pursue composition studies at the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague. Ten years later, she has won a natural place in the modern music scene. In 2022 Dark Vocalise was premiered in Korzo Theatre The Hague and on June 7 the first performance of Hymn to timeless melancholy. Hymn to an English Summer will sound in Festival Dag in de Branding. Those holidaying in the Czech Republic this summer can hear a new composition Zamboni composed for the Berg Orchestra on 16 August in Pěčice.

Home filled with music

Sara Zamboni grew up in Darfo Boario Terme, a town in the northern Italian province of Brescia. Her father was an electrical technician specialising in medical instruments; her mother was a housewife. Zamboni: ‘My father was passionate about technology and immersed himself in it one hundred per cent; he was always fixing appliances for everyone. My mother rather more responded to what happened to come her way; if she wanted to work outside the home, she would go babysitting or pick blueberries, for instance; she also sometimes worked as a labourer in a garment factory.’

Zamboni grew up in a house full of music: ‘My mother always had RAI Radio 3 on, the Italian culture channel for classical music, literature, theatre and film. Or she played cassette tapes, LPs and CDs with a huge range of different musical styles. This ranged from classical symphonic music to progressive rock, Brazilian musicians like Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil and Italian singer-songwriters like Franco Battiato and Angelo Branduardi. We also listened to Cape Verdean Cesária Evora and the folk singers of Sardinia. A favourite of mine and my one-year younger brother Daniele was the song Pata Pata by South African singer Miriam Makeba.’

Basic skills

As children, they took an introductory music course together at the Luca Marenzo Conservatory branch in their hometown of Darfo Boario Terme. ‘We learned basic skills like singing in a choir, playing small percussion instruments and listening to our teacher, who was conducting. After that year, we were allowed to choose an instrument for a trial year. I chose the piano, Daniele the clarinet. He also entered music and we performed as a duo for many years.’

Her parents gave her a Casio CTK80: ‘That little keyboard can produce the sounds of all instruments and also has rhythmic loops of rock, Latin, pop and jazz. I started experimenting and improvising with it, but I wouldn’t call it composing yet. It was just playing with sounds and rhythms, incredibly fun to do. – That Casio still lingers somewhere in my parents’ attic.’

Music education in Italy is strict and focused on tradition, Zamboni recalls: ‘The piano major concentrated on the classical and romantic repertoire, there was hardly any freedom of choice. I myself also played music by composers such as Debussy, Ravel and Dallapiccola, but that was already exceptional – the repertoire for exams was determined by a government body.’

‘Later, I also started studying composition, but it was only during my master’s degree in piano that I really began to delve into 20th-century repertoire. A key role in this was played by my teacher Andrea Rebaudengo, with whom we analysed and performed pieces such as In C by Terry Riley, Workers Union by Louis Andriessen and Living Room Music by John Cage. Thanks to Andrea, I started specialising in contemporary music.’

Royal Conservatoire The Hague

At 24, she completes her master’s and moves to The Hague to continue her studies at the Royal Conservatoire. ‘Already earlier on I had decided to leave Italy because there are hardly any female composers, and music is considered a hobby there – nobody wants to pay for it. There are talent shows on TV, but they cannot be taken seriously; I simply had no choice but to leave.’

In The Hague, she was able to enter the second year bachelor right away: ‘I got exemptions for subjects I had already completed in Brescia; my theoretical basis was very strong. For instance, I had devoted my thesis to Bartók’s piano music and his research on folk music in his region. I had also exhaustively analysed two operas by Alban Berg and knew the repertoire of the Second Viennese School well. In the Netherlands, I sought the freedom to further develop my own creativity.’

She is not disappointed: ‘The Royal Conservatoire felt like a playground, where I could do anything I wanted. I got a lot of support from my composition teachers Calliope Tsoupaki and Martijn Padding, but also from Gerard Bouwhuis, with whom I took the minor piano – I always called him ‘Uncle Gerard’. Of course, every teacher has his own approach and vision, but I had a very clear idea of what I wanted to achieve and our collaboration was open, critical, but respectful. Whereas teachers in Italy want to force you in a certain direction, they set themselves up as guides and advisers. ‘It’s your composition in the end,’ they often said.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lNKEOtBJUo&ab_channel=SaraZamboniMusic-Topic

Experimenting

Just as she used to experiment enthusiastically on her casio, she also eagerly takes advantage of study opportunities at the Royal Conservatoire: ‘I took electronic and electroacoustic music lessons from Kees Tazelaar, head of the Sonology Department. Kees taught me to first have a sound or process in my head and then to develop the technique to realise it. That requires a lot of brainpower and if something was executed sloppily, he spotted it immediately.’

‘For two years I also took Paul Jeukendrup’s course Audio Engineering in Electronic Music. That roots in my admiration for theatre sound and lighting technicians, stage managers and the like, who, behind the scenes, make a performance possible. Here, I learned a lot about the workflow of audio in live performances.’

‘I helped realise performances from the Sonology department that brought together multichannel sound systems, acoustic instruments and live electronics. We prepared those concerts during classes and so I learnt to set clear guidelines for the technicians, tailored to the venue, equipment and time schedule. Looking back, these have been for me the most important practical lessons I have ever had!’

Electronics

Electronics play an important role in her work, whether combined with acoustic instruments or not. On her label Cytokine Records, set up in 2020, she publishes a new piece every month, including an inventive cover. For instance, the cover of Suite in a Mental Space was inspired by an etching by M.C. Escher.

In this fascinating soundscape, she puts her own voice and sounds of various clarinets (Daniele Zamboni) through an electronic wringer. The slowly slipping, plopping, buzzing, metallic, sometimes sweet sounds transport us to a mysterious world, as if we have arrived on a planet of aliens. Zamboni: ‘For me, it is a journey through a macrocosm to a microcosm, in which gigantic creatures communicate with infinitesimal ones. But everyone gets to use their own imagination.’

Besides electronics, musicians’ gestures also play an important role in her work. Zamboni: ‘What has always bothered me is that they are only allowed to make functional movements; after all, the body responds spontaneously to feelings of ease or discomfort. Musicians are far too little trained in how their bodies work. It is wrong to force children to sit still for hours, endlessly practising the same musical passage. I myself used to play outside, climbing trees, doing somersaults in the grass and so on. Nowadays I practice pilates and modern dance and do figure skating. All this resonates in my compositions.’

“Composer Sara Zamboni: It is wrong to force children to sit still for hours, endlessly practising the same musical passage.”

Music theatre

Even while studying in Italy, she wondered how to make musical theatre without disturbing musicians’ natural way of playing: ‘To enable artistic performances, I started experimenting with their motor skills and incorporating movements from everyday life into my compositions. I performed these with friends at the conservatoire. There I also met singer and performer Elena Lorenzi, still my best friend.’

All this comes together in Dark Vocalise for soprano and five-channel electronics, chosen for the Playground Festival at Korzo in 2022. ‘In it, together with Elena, I explore the deepest aspects of the female voice. To this end, I have included warm-up exercises from her singing practice. Thus, we hear her voice in a vulnerable state: not yet ready to perform, but full of variations, instabilities and colour nuances. I manipulated those sounds and they are reproduced through five speakers set up around Elena. Live, she engages in a dialogue with her own voice, with her facial expressions and body movements designed to go perfectly with good, lyrical vocal technique.’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGuNaD9KFAc

The recording of Dark Vocalise on YouTube has an overwhelming eloquence, even though it lacks any text. Elena Lorenzi stands solitary on a sparsely lit stage, clad in a black strapless top with white tulle strip skirt, her arms raised. The speakers emanate mysterious hissing sounds, which sometimes develop into a polyphonic chorus, but more often string together into a forest of ominously dark sounds.

Live, the singer answers these with hissing sounds, deep sighs, intense breaths or short melodic motifs, while contorting her body and fingers in all sorts of twists and turns. She widely opens her mouth and heavily kohl-rimmed eyes, her terrifying gaze recalling actresses in silent horror films. At the end, as a ‘conductor’, she silences her own speaker choir.

Hymn to Timeless Melancholy

In her new composition, Hymn to timeless melancholy. Hymn to an English Summer, for the New European Ensemble, Zamboni does not use electronics; nor did she design choreography for the musicians. ‘It is inspired by the novel Summer by Scottish author Ali Smith and is purely acoustic, set for flute/piccolo, clarinet/bass clarinet, piano and string quartet. It concerns my musical reflection on memories, transient moments and the way the past continues to live on in our present. Smith masterfully captures the beauty of fleeting encounters: chance, long conversations with strangers in which we share stories, thoughts, intellectual brilliance, anecdotes and puns for a moment, before going our separate ways again. A moment frozen in time.’

‘The book made me think about how we try to understand our grief and seek solace in the past, while at the same time living in a present full of discomfort, complicated family ties and catastrophic events. I was particularly struck by a passage on pages 290-307 in the 2021 Penguin edition.’

‘This recounts how Grace takes a walk and thinks back to a simple but meaningful afternoon three decades earlier, when she was in her twenties. It is one of those moments that stays with us long after the fact and presents itself unexpectedly, perhaps to ease our present grief. Before the performance, Ali Smith reads the relevant excerpt.’ In addition toHymn to timeless melancholy. Hymn to an English Summer, three works by other composers inspired by of Smith’s so-called seasonal quartet will be premiered on 7 June.

Bohemian countryside

In August, the Czech Berg Orchestra will play a new work Zamboni composed in 2024 during a Studio Hrdinů residency programme in Prague. ‘I lived for three weeks in Pěčice in the Bohemian countryside, in a house that once belonged to Bedřich Smetana’s brother. My assignment was to write a piece inspired by that environment, which would also be accessible to locals, who might be less familiar with modern music.’

She doesn’t have a title yet: ‘I haven’t quite finished the piece, but it will be musical theatre for woodwinds, brass and percussion. The Berg Orchestra conductor will take the audience through various locations around the house and in the surrounding forests. Besides acoustic parts, they will also get to hear multi-channel electronic recordings, through speakers placed in nature.’

‘The musicians not only play, but also make gestures that I am yet to define with them. Unfortunately, I couldn’t use a piano in this setting, but I did listen to Smetana’s piano music extensively.’ Smiling: ‘Maybe an idea for a next project.’

This article appeared in the May-June issue of the Dutch music magazine De Nieuwe Muze.

The concert will be repeated in Muziekgebouw aan ‘t IJ, 25 September 2025

#AndreaRebaudengo #CalliopeTsoupaki #DanieleZamboni #JohnCage #LouisAndriessen #MartijnPadding #SaraZamboni #TerryRiley