Showing posts with label Terry Riley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Terry Riley. Show all posts

Wednesday, 22 October 2025

Hugh Shrapnel shares thoughts on his music, influences, and life as a composer

Hugh Shrapnel


Having reviewed three albums of composer Hugh Shrapnel’s music now, it was a pleasure to have the opportunity to sit down with him recently and discuss his music, his influences, and his life as a musician and composer.
 
We began discussing what pointed Hugh in the direction of music and composition in the first place. He was born in Birmingham in 1947, but grew up in Stockport (as, coincidentally, did I). His father Norman Shrapnel was a journalist with The Guardian, his older brother John an actor and their mother Myfanwy an artist. Norman Shrapnel was a great music lover and good amateur violinist, often playing chamber music with friends. Hugh began playing the recorder aged seven, went on to play the oboe from the age of 13, and then began to play the piano in his mid-teens.



Hugh Shrapnel
credit: Phoebus Apostolide

Composition came early - he was inventing tunes as a boy, and he remembers a marching tune that he used to sing all the time, driving his mother mad! He started composing seriously at around fourteen, and was fascinated by modern music, inspired by hearing a performance of Schoenberg’s Serenade on the radio and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. So he already knew he wanted to be a composer at that time. His father, and Mary Stott, a musician friend and fellow Guardian journalist (the founder of the paper’s women’s page) encouraged him, although initially, academic studying of music took a back seat to his keenness for listening to new music and writing. He went to the Battersea College of Technology for a year, studying with Hans Heimler, the Austrian composer and musicologist, who had studied with Berg and Weingartner. From there, he went on to the Royal Academy of Music, where he initially studied composition with Norman Demuth, whose main interest was French music. Shrapnel’s interest lay in avant garde, serial music, so he moved to study with Cornelius Cardew, and this was a better fit, opening many opportunities for him in experimental music. He joined Cardew’s Scratch Orchestra, and they took their experimental music out of the concert halls, touring in the North East, Wales and Cornwall. ‘What they thought of what we were doing is something else!’, says Hugh, but he says that their mission was partly to rebel against the musical establishment of the time. 

 

Collaborating with other musicians has always been important for Hugh, from those early days with Cardew and other important British experimental composers such as John White, Chris Hobbs and Alec Hill, with whom he formed the quartet, the Promenade Theatre Orchestra, right through to more recent piano duetting with fellow composer John Lewis. This led to Elements of London, the first recording of his work (and Lewis’) by the Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble. It’s also worth mentioning that Cardew directed many of those early experimental pioneers, including Hugh, in the UK premiere in 1968 of Terry Riley’s In C. Along the way, Hugh’s compositions have often been for the musician friends around him, and unusual combinations of instruments have always interested him. On mentioning in conversation that I had played the euphonium at school, Hugh immediately referred to his piece for euphonium and two electric keyboards, West Pier, and he’s currently working on completing a long cycle of pieces for accordion, trumpet, piano, percussion and cello. Other collaborators include the BBC Radio 3 presenter and pianist Sarah Walker and composer pianist Robert Coleridge (who passed away in 2019), who recorded his South of the River suite of piano duos in 1998, and have been great supporters of his work. The Cornelius Cardew Concerts Trust, led by composer Michael Chant has been also very significant, with Hugh’s compositions receiving frequent performances at their Morley College concerts.

 

Promenade Theatre Orchestra, 1972

Aside from the South of the River suite, and a 1972 Promenade Theatre Orchestra recording, the more recent Convivium Records albums are the only available recordings of Hugh’s work. However, there are a number of performances of some of the earlier experimental works on YouTube, including several of Raindrops, a work ‘for any number or kind of tuned and untuned percussion, guitars and other plucked strings’. These include one for flutes, guitars and keyboards, as well as one for glockenspiels. Following those early experimental years, like a lot of other composers, Hugh gradually moved towards more ‘conventional’ music, as he describes it. ‘It (experimental music) had run its course, and I wanted to write tunes again. Looking back on the experimental music, it was a short-lived phenomenon’. Whilst he has still performed such works more recently, it now somehow ‘feels like going back in time’.


Raindrops (1970) by Hugh Shrapnel
performed by Jost Nickel et al.

Hugh says he rarely starts from a purely musical idea when composing, but often more of a poetic image. He describes such pieces as ‘descriptive, of a mood - poems in music, if that’s not too pretentious’. It is that ability to capture this in small form, distilling an image, a thought or an idea, that is so impressive in his work. There is a clear thread of connection with local environment, community and political issues in much of his work. ‘During the experimental time, it was all to do with concepts, in its own little world’. That’s not to say that politics weren’t important then too. Hugh played oboe in the Peoples’ Liberation Music, a political music group in the 1970s, playing folk and ‘agit-pop’, and they often played on demonstrations against cuts, supporting the miners’ strike, the Irish Struggles and anti-fascism. 


Hugh feels rooted in the geographical area of South East London, where he has lived for most of his life. He moved from Stockport to Blackheath when he was 12, and apart from a few years in Birmingham, he has remained in the area. Why? ‘Well, force of habit. But I like it – there are lots of parks and open space, and I’ve always loved the countryside and nature’. Oxleas Wood, the first piece in South of the River, was written in support of a successful local campaign against a motorway being carved through this ancient wood. Like many, composing has not been his sole profession from necessity. In the 70s and 80s he taught music in schools and further education colleges, but then spent many years working part time in a council housing department. Teaching was demanding, with marking and preparing eating into his time. The housing job, whilst demanding in its own way, it gave more free time for composition, but it also brought him into the outside world. New music circles can become somewhat isolationist, whilst Hugh feels that music is very much ‘to do with everyday life’. He thinks more and more about the idea of music being expressive, in contrast to the earlier experimental view of music as pure sounds. In essence, he is ‘more and more concerned with melody’.

 

With three recordings of his music on Convivium Records under his belt, a fourth is on the way. Following on from piano duos, solo piano works and wind chamber works, the new album will be music for strings, including a new work for string quartet. He’s also working on orchestrating some of his earlier works, including the South of the River piano duets. So there’s still more to come, and I for one will be looking forward to hearing more very soon.


At the Rivoli by Hugh Shrapnel, 
performed by the Ivory Duo Piano Ensemble

Recordings of Hugh Shrapnel's music on Convivium Records:


My review here.









My review here.







My review here.

Wednesday, 26 March 2025

The Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra scale new heights with Colin Currie at the helm in a celebration of Steve Reich

Steve Reich
Colin Currie (conductor, percussion)
Ruth Rogers (leader)

7.30pm, Sunday 23 March 2025

★★★★

Steve Reich (b.1936): Music for Pieces of Wood
Lou Harrison (1917-2003) & John Cage (1912-1992): Double Music
Terry Riley (b.1935): Half Wolf Dances Mad in Moonlight, from Salome Dances for Peace
Yoko Ono (b.1933): Pieces for Orchestra
Reich: Runner
Reich/Gerhard Richter (b.1932): Moving Picture (936-3)
(Director: Corinna Belz (b.1955))




I’ve been following most of Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra’s 100th season, enjoying their ever more adventurous and interesting programming, and their latest offering, a concert centring on the music of Steve Reich (b.1936) saw them reach new heights of excellence. With conductor and percussionist Colin Currie at the helm, chamber-sized BPO forces tackled some highly challenging repertoire, and the percussion section in particular, who have already shown themselves to be a key part of the BPO’s development over the last few years, rose to the occasion. 

 

So to begin with, Currie joined the four percussionists for Reich’s popular and mesmerising Music for Pieces of Wood, and this 9 minute piece, consisting of five players with tuned claves (pairs of wooden sticks), knocking out constantly crossing and phasing rhythms. There’s a pattern that began with just two players (Donna-Maria Landowksi & Meadow Brooks) setting the base rhythms – and they need particular commendation for the stamina of maintaining this throughout the whole piece. They were joined by Currie, then Cameron Gorman, and finally Chris Brannick, building up the complex, hypnotic rhythms. The pattern is repeated three times, so going back to two players, and building up again, before the whole thing comes to an abrupt stop. The almost full Dome audience was completely drawn into their tight and intense performance, making for a great start to the evening.

 

From centre stage, attention then shifted to the far right, and an array of bells, brake drums, sistra, gongs, tam-tams and even a thunder sheet, to which the four BPO percussionists moved to perform Double Music by Lou Harrison (1917-2003) and John Cage (1912-1992). With the brake drums laid out in an array on the floor, and other instruments circling them, the four players crouched down and drew us into the gamelan-inspired soundworld, beginning with a ringing from a Tibetan bowl, and building to a resonant mix of sounds, the metallic tuned brake drums against the rattling sistra and rumbling tam-tams and gongs. One couldn’t always tell exactly what was producing which sounds – there was some use of the sides of the gongs or tam-tams to produce yet more different timbres. Harrison & Cage composed two of the four sections each independently, but the result creates a unified soundworld, ending with the instruments’ long final resonance hanging in the air. 

 

Colin Currie
Next it was the turn of strings, and a quartet led by BPO leader, Ruth Rogers, with Nikki Gleed, Caroline Harrison & Peter Adams. They were conducted here by Joanna MacGregor – once the piece was underway, it was clear that this was a necessity. Terry Riley’s Half Wolf Dances Mad in Moonlight from his Salome Dances for Peace is a frenetic mash-up of rhythmic energy, with the players often at odds with each other. There are moments of more congruent movement, but they are brief, and MacGregor’s ongoing beat was essential for keeping the players on track. They performed with commitment and confidence, and whilst there were moments that felt on the very edge of control, they stayed together and united for the more stable conclusion, with drones underpinning eastern-infused melodic lines and confident use of harmonics, slides and glassy tones as they died away to nothing.

 

The percussionists returned for Yoko Ono’s (b.1933) Pieces for Orchestra, joined by MacGregor on the piano. Her playing involved lots of plucking and scraping inside the piano, with some watery work on the keyboard later on. The percussionists began unwinding rolls of tape, then moved from instruments to tapping and beating the floor, the speakers, seemingly anything on the stage. There was bowing and scraping on the sides of glockenspiels or vibraphones and elsewhere, and the players moved around their area of the stage slowly. The overall soundscape was surprisingly effective, although once the percussionists had then slowly exited, with Joanna MacGregor left shuffling a deck of cards, it wasn’t entirely clear what it amounted to in the end.  

 

There was a little stage resetting before the final piece of the first half – Steve Reich’s Runner. The musical forces were set out symmetrically, with a string quartet, a wind trio, a piano and a vibraphone all doubled, all joined by a single double bass. Currie was back to conduct, and from the start, rich, rhythmic textures quickly built up, with rocking pianos joined by strings then woodwind and the percussion, the antiphonal effect of the two ‘choirs’ being used to great effect. The rhythmic energy swirled as the rhythms phased, coming together and pulling apart in waves. Currie kept a tight rein on proceedings, and ensemble was tight for the sudden big tutti accented chords. Only once did it feel the rhythms were in danger of falling out of line, but more big chords reestablished the sense of control, and Currie kept the energy at a high level throughout, bringing the evening’s first half to a strong conclusion.  

 

Colin Currie and members of the
Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra
© Nick Boston

And then to the most substantial work of the evening, Reich’s collaboration with artist Gerhard Richter and director Corinna Belz, Moving Picture (936-3). Reich’s music accompanies Richter’s abstract film, which starts with rippling parallel coloured lines filling the screen. Gradually, bands emerge and then open and expand, creating increasingly complex images in a kaleidoscope fashion, and by the central section, the effect is rather like a Rorschach test, as one can start to see faces, dancers, pagodas, dragons, angels, etc – perhaps best not to overanalyse here in case I reveal too much about myself… The process is then reversed, ultimately returning to the single rippling lines which opened proceedings. Reich’s music takes a similar trajectory, starting out by doubling the rhythmic patterns as the lines on the screen increase in complexity. Over the work’s forty minutes, however, the structure of the music is somewhat overshadowed by the hypnotic nature of the visuals, relegating the music to more of an accompaniment role, perhaps, but Currie shaped the progress of the score, with variation in dynamics and emphasis of strident clashes and suspensions as the piece reached its climax. Whilst musically not as exciting as Runner, the overall effect of the music and film was nonetheless highly effective, and the whole performance brought the evening to a suitably impressive end. 

 

Once again, Joanna MacGregor and all involved deserve to be congratulated for pushing expectations of what Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra has to offer to a new level. With just Messaien’s mighty Turangilîla Symphony to go to conclude their 100th season (details here), it will be exciting to see where MacGregor takes them into their next century.