The Committee: Equinox
https://www.facebook.com/thecommitteecomposers
Music by Yvette Audain, Sarah Ballard, Leonie Holmes, Kevin Kim, Rohan King, Louise Webster and Peter Willis
Performers: Yvette Audain, saxophones; Sharon Baylis, viola; Felicity Hanlon, oboe and cor anglais; Ben Hoadley, bassoon; Kevin Kim, recorders; Tom Pierard, cello; Claire Scholes, mezzo-soprano
Guest post: Celeste Oram and Alex Taylor
---
It
would have been much easier not to write this article. Then we would
still have all the skin on our noses; no toes would have been stepped
on; no feathers ruffled. But we sense a lack of in-depth and provocative
music critique in our city, and hence a lack of incisive discourse
surrounding the work of young(ish) composers. This makes us itchy and
impatient. New Zealanders can be notoriously acquiescent; but this is
not particularly conducive to a robust composerly environment. This
article is hence written the spirit of wanting to start the
conversations that desperately need to be had, but we don't hear anyone
else starting.
This
is not an attempt to divide and conquer. It is not an attempt to snatch
ourselves more pieces of pie. It is absolutely not fueled by any petty
sense of resentment. It is a genuinely determined effort to start a
discussion about how Auckland composers (and more widely, musicians and
artists) can work together to forge an artistic scene that demands more
of us, that makes us better composers and makes our performers better
musicians, that enthuses our audiences, and that we can take a great
deal of pride in. Our only "agenda" is to write seriously good music, to
advocate for a scene in which we can do so proudly, to seek out the
terra nova: and encourage our fellow composers to do the same, so we can
all write the best music we can.
---
As young composers, we are told that entrepreneurship is the golden
ticket to what we do. Gauche is the undergraduate who embarks on their
path thinking that putting the right dots on the page is enough to
establish them and their music. If I had a dollar for every time I've
heard the phrase "composers have to make their own opportunities", I
would probably have enough in the kitty to negate the need for this
comment in the first place.
It
is, of course, a catchy mantra. It is a convenient paraphrase of the
mentality drilled into each Gen Y-er, in any field: cementing our
generation's individualism and cutting some slack for the larger
establishment organizations that are likely to fail us. This aphorism's
valuable merit is that it encourages young composers to reject
complacency with the scene they find themselves in: to imagine what a
music scene could and should be, and to empower them to make happen what
they see lacking.
This
aphorism's problems, however, lie in its potential for sanctioning
mediocrity and deincentivising a composer's striving for excellence. At
its worst, this mentality spawns patchy, self-indulgent vanity projects.
By essentially bypassing the quality control of third-party peer
reviewers, anything goes: if you write it, it can get performed. At this
point, you might think, but it's just simple market economics: if the
audiences come, they must be doing something right. Or perhaps, that the tastemakers in their ivory towers are all wrong - that we need grass-roots vanguards who will democratize the process and give
each creative voice an airing. These are very valid points. But they
don't leave room for imagining how this DIY attitude can be put to best
use. For, at its best, this mentality can fire up a community that works
together to insistently lift their game, make possible valuable
opportunities, and shake the cobwebs off the establishment mausoleums.
An
interesting case study to use in exploring these questions is a recent
concert by The Committee, an Auckland-based composers' collective, whose
stated mission is to promote the work of Auckland composers. The idea
of a composers' collective promoting their own work is not without
merit; new music needs advocates wherever it can find them. But it is
also essential for a community of composers to discuss how such a
collective can best serve the composers in its city, and best cultivate
its creative community.
Last
weekend's concert gave us a good deal of hope by proving two
encouraging points. The first is that The Committee had secured Auckland
Council's Arts Alive funding to support the concert. One little
pohutukawa blossom of hope printed on the programme's back page shows
that central funding bodies--specifically, and rightfully,
Auckland-based ones--are amenable to funding our efforts. But receiving
funding is a two-way transaction: both backs must be scratched. In other
words, a venture that spends taxpayer money must genuinely believe that
they are embarking on something that best serves and enriches their
artistic community. Composers must put their best feet forward to their
city, and offer to their audiences only that which shows the boldest of
what we do, so they keep coming back.
Secondly,
the afternoon's performances were notably excellent; the Committee have
succeeded in getting high-caliber performers onside to do justice to
the works presented. Auckland is lucky to have mezzo Claire Scholes,
whose sensitive versatility and indefatigable adventurousness makes her
an ideal advocate for new vocal music. I greatly look forward to seeing
her, and other singers, showcased in The Committee's next concert in
November, devoted to vocal music. It is always a delight to hear
performances from long-time champions of new Auckland music, such as Ben
Hoadley and Tom Pierard. And we are also lucky to have the chops of
Yvette Audain and Kevin Kim--great players on unusual instruments--who,
as composers themselves, have the potential of bringing extra insights
to the pieces they approach. It is clear that our city is home to superb
performers who are committed to the work of composers, and with whom
very fruitful relationships can be forged.
But
again, there is a flipside to this: as advocates for composers and
their new works, surely a composers' collective could (and should) be
more proactive in engaging performers more comprehensively in the
development of new works. Composers are never best served by an attitude
of "make sure we can get it together in a couple of rehearsals". Really
really good music can be really really hard. Music that is really worth
playing sometimes takes more than a couple of calls to make magic
happen. Composers advocating for composers must never settle for the
easy way out when it comes to negotiating with performers. Yes, I know,
we're all busy, our pockets are all a bit thin, all the good musos are
overstretched. But this is precisely why a composers' collective has a
responsibility to foster good relationships with fantastic performers,
to get them as fired up about our music as we are. Despite the professionalism and undoubted ability of all the performers on Sunday, there was no sense that they were invested in the music, that they were really risking something.
With
these two essential batters--financial and human resources--run home,
an independent composers' organization such as The Committee are in a
unique and privileged position. Free from the sometimes turgid
immobility of larger arts organizations, their scope for adventure and
innovation is unbridled. The best service such a composers' collective
can therefore offer is to champion the boldest work of the highest
available quality that would not necessarily get airings by other
performance groups. We are not convinced that, on the whole, last
weekend's concert measured up to those three parameters.
Although
one might expect a bewildering plethora of styles and tones in a
line-up of eight new works, there was a disappointing flatness to the
programme. Notable exceptions were the tightly-wound lines of Webster's
Quicken and the compressed vitality of Sarah Ballard's Axis. To
commission a fresh face, such as highly talented emerging composer
Ballard, to add to the Committee's regular lineup resulted in a
beautiful, sophisticated work that was the unequivocal highlight of the
concert. Holmes's Fourth Station, too, was gripping and poignant, if
rather earnest.
The
flatness of the programme came from a lack of energy, and a lack of
concision. The remaining pieces tended to suffer from a debilitating
verbosity and a reliance on meandering modal lines without much rhythmic
or gestural impetus. There must be a note here too about programming –
we were presented with seven long pieces; I experienced this as a sort
of extended malaise, broken most convincingly by Ballard's bold ensemble
work. The curator's role is surely to provide balance, tension and
relief in a concert programme, to allow the listener space and to
present each work in its best light. In another context, perhaps flanked
by propulsive miniatures, Rohan King's Temporal could have been
strikingly meditative, but here, at the end of a long programme, it felt
tired and overworked.
It's
all very well to criticise the make-up of the programme, you might say,
but these were new works – surely the commissioners couldn't have
predicted what the composers would do? Two of the works were not in fact
new: Holmes's Fourth Station, fit for purpose as part of an Easter
exhibition celebrating the stations of the cross, is an impressive
piece, and a suitable if safe choice. Audain's Hazine has had many
outings, and for me epitomised the meandering sameness of the concert as
a whole. These two slots were an opportunity to create greater rhythm
and direction in the evening's line-up, an opportunity perhaps not best
used. The programming reflected an aversion to risk that is perhaps inevitable
from such a collective; what is chosen is what is least offensive to the
greatest number of Committee members. And this is at the heart of why
for me the concert failed: risk and flair were sacrificed in favour of
familiarity and mediocrity, even and especially in many of the newly
commissioned works. Conservatism for its own sake is surely the death of new
music.
To
begin to imagine what a highly successful and valuable composer-run
performance platform might look like, let's offer the example of
Sydney's Chronology Arts, founded in 2007 by then-emerging (now
established) composers Andrew Batt-Rawden and Alex Pozniak. Chronology
Arts have an audaciously ambitious vision for their support of emerging
composers. Whilst commissioning and performing works from emerging
composers is the bulk of what they do, they also facilitate professional
and commercially released recordings of young composers' works,
commission brokerage, and mentoring and professional development. Since
its inception, Chronology Arts has premiered 130 new works by 80
composers - some internationally, such as kiwi Alexandra Hay. They are
funded by the federal Australia Council for the Arts, the local Arts NSW
and City of Sydney, and private donors. They collaborate with other
local artists--dancers, video artists, photographers--and have jumped on
the bandwagon of major festivals, including the ICSM World Music Days,
when it was in Sydney in 2010. All this, dreamt up over a few beers (so I
have been told) by two young and hungry composers who desperately
wanted to lift Sydney's game.
To
whinge that there is more arts money in Australia is to completely
chicken out of facing up to why there is not a similar drive and vision
among composers in New Zealand. Chronology Arts work bloody hard, but
they have radically changed the new music scene in Sydney, and
powerfully bolstered the careers of many young composers. Around the
world there are countless instances of similar organizations.
And
something else I'd like to put forward: a group that aims to serve NZ
composers does not necessarily have to play New Zealand music all the time. If we want performers to get better at playing new music, if we
want audiences to better understand and appreciate the crazy places
we're coming from, it certainly won't hurt to engage them in the stuff
that we know and love: to build a frame and a platform from which our
music takes off. And there's a lot of karma at play in this business: to
showcase the work of superb international emerging composers here in NZ
is to open up avenues for NZ music to heard overseas. A parochial
attitude only limits our horizons.
On
a smaller matter, I personally was not convinced by the venue of the
Clocktower. Yes, it's beautiful, yes, the in-the-round setup is highly
effective, and yes, the mezzanine space was used well. But its
hyper-sensitive acoustics brought out all the worst awkwardness of
classical music concerts: the audience feeling paralyzed, like bugs in
amber, lest the slightest shuffle or throat-clearing wrench the
limelight away from the performance at hand. Why we continue to insist
that internment in such an uncomfortable coffin is the most effective
way to listen to and be engaged in music is completely beyond me. When
interval comes as a relief, you know there's problems.
The
Committee have a long and solid history behind them of supporting
Auckland composers, and it is a legacy which ought to continue. They
have the potential to offer a great service to new music in Auckland and
beyond. But a concert such as this does not best represent
the city's talent and creativity, nor does it do the greatest service
to composers and the composition tradition in Auckland and beyond. If we
as composers are committed to being fiercely innovative, to striving
for excellence, determined to avoid stagnation and mediocrity, we need
to have some more astute and discerning conversations about the kinds of
channels we forge for our music.
