Keynote speech for the 2014 British Composer Awards

Last night I was invited by the Artistic Directors of the British Composer Awards, Julia Haferkorn and Ed McKeon, to give a keynote speech at the 2014 BASCA-hosted event. I didn’t expect the sheer amount of creativity that filled the room. It was a privilege to be able to experience the broad scope of sound exploration amongst contemporary composers of all ages.

Anyway, and without further hesitation, here’s the speech I was privileged to give:

I would like to start by saying a huge thank you to BASCA for their ongoing work and, of course, for inviting me to share a few words with you at this prestigious event. It’s an honour to be here at Goldsmiths’ Hall among Britain’s most talented composers.

My sincere congratulations to all those being recognised this evening. Your contribution to the world of music is extraordinary. Through your talent, creativity and commitment, you are inspiring the nation and, indeed, the world. Every one of you is proof that Britain continues to produce composers of the highest calibre. I have no doubt that your outstanding work will inspire a new generation of composers, continuing this great tradition of quality music-making long into the future.

Reading through the list of nominees for tonight’s awards was both breath-taking and heart-warming. People of all ages, from all backgrounds, are working right across the country (and across the world) to ensure our society has a deep and rich musical culture. The value of music to society is incalculable. Who here has not been moved by music? Who here has not experienced music that made them stop and think? Music is the lifeblood of our culture. Without it we would wither and perish.

Discovering new music is one of the most invigorating experiences anyone can have, which is why it’s vital to have a healthy body of composers producing new works specifically for our time. This evening is a celebration of our country’s very best. What a shame we can’t give awards to all the nominees!

If we stop to consider the world we occupy, the success of our living composers is truly remarkable. The economic downturn has hit everybody hard and the music industry is no exception. Contracts are scarce, while paid commissions and funding for new projects are harder to find than they once were. Not only that, but the process of getting projects off-the-ground takes much longer these days. I’m proud to have commissioned hundreds of new works, but I can’t deny that, over the course of my career, it’s become more and more difficult to commission pieces, to find sufficient time to get projects off the ground and to negotiate funding with groups of organisations who increasingly depend on each other for support.

Being a composer today is about much more than writing music; it’s about working collaboratively, making the most of the tools available to us in the digital age and, above all, it’s about creating opportunities for new music to be heard. However challenging the outlook, there’s still plenty of potential to create new, high-quality music. Organisations such as BASCA, PRS for Music, the Arts Councils, Sound and Music and the Musicians’ Union work tirelessly to provide supportive schemes, to protect composers’ rights and to raise awareness publically. We should thank these bodies – as well as the hundreds of other schemes, foundations, festivals and clubs – for making the business of being a composer less of an uphill struggle than it might otherwise be.

It’s important to convince as many institutions as we can to support new music. If music is the lifeblood of our culture then ensuring its healthy survival is everybody’s responsibility. We – avid supporters and dedicated practitioners – are the best people to lead the way. We should do everything we can to encourage radio stations, television networks, concert venues, opera houses, orchestras and public bodies to promote the music of our time – music as it lives and breathes today. A stronger industry means more opportunities for work and a greater contribution to the country’s economy. The more people we can get to support our music-making, the more the industry will flourish.

Our composers are a fantastic cultural resource, and not just for their artistic output. Music is a vital form of expression, giving us the means to say things we can’t say with words alone, to entertain each other in a uniquely cherished way, and to tackle ideas of beauty that we can’t tackle through other means. Music is not just an artistic product, it’s a practice; music doesn’t just exist – music is made. Composers are experts in a very profound sense. We might be tempted to think of them as the people who put dots on a page, put notes into digital workspaces – people who marshal sounds ready for performances – but they’re so much more than that. Composers are specialists at creative thinking, at making difficult connections, at finding a unique means of expression through the art-form that we prize more than any other. Yet, composers tend to go undervalued.

I firmly believe that composers can make a huge contribution to education and community development, showing us all how to unlock expressive, creative and problem-solving potential that would otherwise remain untapped.  Every day we see adverts for art classes, cookery classes, yoga classes, sports training. What about learning to create music? I don’t mean playing music, but creating it in the first place. Learning to play an instrument often involves years of training and considerable financial investment, which can be prohibitive to many individuals. But anybody can create music. Anybody can learn to bring others together through the power of music-making. Here in the room tonight and all around the country we have highly skilled, highly talented people with lots to offer. It’s about time we put more effort into promoting music, not as a passive nicety or even an obligation, but as an active practice that we can all benefit from – individuals, families and communities.

Who better to learn from than the best? Composers: tonight we honour your individual achievements, your portfolios of work, your dedication to your craft. But let tonight also be a celebration of your potential and the unparalleled mark you leave on society. Already, we owe you a great debt, and there’s still so much we have to learn from you.

I’ve been lucky enough to work with some of the best composers in the world and some of the most promising young talent. I know all too well the value of a good piece of music and just how many ways music can impact people’s lives for the better. I’ve worked on the classical concert stage, at jazz festivals, in the recording studio, on film & TV projects, in classrooms, with charities, with folk musicians, with improvisers and with pop artists. My journey has taken me to all corners of the music industry and I can say with certainty that nothing would happen without the work of composers – the people who create the music in the first place. What you do is vital and I’m privileged to be part of the industry that you make possible.

Congratulations again to all the nominees here this evening. Many thanks to all the thousands of other great composers around the globe who toil to make our world a better place, many without recognition. Of course, we should all thank our host, BASCA, our sponsor, PRS for Music, and BBC Radio 3 for helping to share this wonderful event with everybody far and wide.

I hope to continue collaborating with composers for many years to come; I can think of nothing better or more important. I wish all of you here tonight every success in the future.

Thank you!

Celebrating half a century

With 2015 fast approaching, Evelyn Glennie gives us a glimpse of one of her projects. A calendar that features a selection of her instrument collection. Here’s a short interview to let you know a little more about it.

Why a calendar? How did you come up with the idea? Why 2015?

A good quality calendar is something to cherish, not just for the given year but forever. More so when it is personalised.

I wanted to create a simple but poignant calendar that is almost like a piece of art. One that gives a little glimpse of my life as a solo percussionist and an even smaller glimpse to my ever growing instrument collection.

2015 is my 50th anniversary, half a century, can you believe that? I have never been one to celebrate birthdays but this time is different: I will also be completing 30 years since being a fully pledged professional musician. All reasons that led me to believe that a calendar would be a good way to celebrate each month of 2015.

Is there a reason for you to choose the instruments portrayed?

All of my instruments are special but my first ever snare drum [which I was given at the age of 12 by my parents], my first pair of drumsticks and first practice pad all hold a special place for me. They represent the beginning of this musical journey and I still cherish them to this day.

I chose the Aluphone, for instance, because this was one of the most recent instruments to be developed and one that I believe is fast becoming a standard instrument in the percussion world, already with major composers writing for it. Bells and drums because they are found all over the world, making them easier for people from all walks of life to relate to the beautiful visual aspect of those instruments. And, due to my fascination with creating new instruments from old materials, I also wanted to feature my drawer of “toys”, since they’ve always been present in my life as an important aspect to percussion - as children we are usually given a rattle or something that creates a sound and it wasn’t different with me!

Were you the one deciding the month the instruments should be associated with? If so, how did you make those decisions?

Yes, I was clear that my first ever snare drum would ‘open’ and ‘close’ the year, due to its sentimental value. Apart from that, I was mainly thinking about the materials and sounds that the instruments make in order to represent the different months and seasons. The Aluphone’s shape and colour, for example, represent a cold feel which is why it features in February. The toys, on the other hand, being full of fun and bright colours embody a warm feeling making them perfect for July. As for the bells, they somehow transport me to Christmas Season [am I the only one?], making them perfect to illustrate November.

Within every page of the calendar you will find a brief story about the instrument displayed and what it means to me. This is the result of a very intimate processes, one that I am now sharing with you. A little journey within my life’s journey.

How often do you play these instruments?

Some more often than others. The ones that I find myself playing the most would be the Aluphone, the Waterphone, Toys, Bells and, of course, the snare drum. But rest assured that none of them sits on a shelf long enough to gather dust!

Where and when can we find the calendar?

You can find it here, both signed or not: www.evelynglennieproductions.com/c/11/gifts

How much is it?

£25 without an autograph and £30 for the signed version.

What does the future hold?

Image: Old House 4 on Flickr

Today I had to make a difficult decision. I was recently invited to work in Russia at the request of a valued promoter. Due to the current political climate between Russia and Ukraine, I felt I had to decline. I’m left wondering what the future holds for the arts on an international stage.

Looking at our twenty-first century world, I can’t help feeling the arts are losing ground, and the industry I work in is reaching a point where it needs redefinition. This is a task that no one person can undertake alone – this is something we need to look at collectively on a global scale.

After deciding not to go to Russia, I found myself thinking about what else is going on the world and how the arts are coping across the globe. I've worked in the music industry for 30 years– and the landscape is changing faster than it ever has before. I can’t help thinking about what is happening in America, where top-grade orchestras, opera companies and other performing arts organizations are being forced to take drastic measures just to keep their heads above water. Some, regrettably, have already gone under.

Do we really want to live in a world where the arts are defined by politics? I don’t. But then again, how much can one person do?

I was taught that change starts with one single step, and that maybe – just maybe – if you succeed, people might follow. Even though it pains me to decline the offer from Russia, I’m left wondering whether we can stop politics defining artistic activity. Ultimately we’re on the brink of losing the spirit of music, something we love for its universal reach. Are we ready to temper that reach for the sake of unrelated political wrangling?

I believe music is a social cohesive that binds people from all cultures all over the world. What does our future hold? Surely we want to maintain this priceless means of shared expression?  But how do we ensure that process of sharing lives-on for future generations? I’m not sure I can even begin to answer this question alone.

Don't Cry for Me

There are some experiences in life that nothing can prepare you for. No amount of reading, watching or studying will create a sense of anticipation or understanding of what you are about to encounter.

Back in December 2010, together with 22 other people I climbed a mountain. Some of us were from the UK, some from Africa, and some were disabled; this was the first expedition to the summit of Kilimanjaro, Africa’s highest peak, that included a group of disabled climbers. That journey was arduous, challenging and at times even euphoric. I climbed because I wanted to help in some small way. I bore the hardship because I believed I could manage the journey. I shared my joy with others as we reached the summit. The catalyst for me began with a challenge and I of course could not resist. In doing so,  I  made a commitment to help a small charity called AbleChildAfrica whose work with disabled children in Africa rang a bell with me and I wanted to help support those who are often the most vulnerable or excluded in a community. As a child losing my own hearing was devastating but made bearable because of the support and encouragement I had from my parents and school and I wanted to give something back.  I chose Able Child Africa because it has an ‘inclusive’ ethos. Their aim is to enable children to become valued members of their homes and communities. Therefore AbleChildAfrica recognises the support they provide must also include the support and education of the parents to enable them in turn to understand and support the needs of their children. Unlike my family situation, many parents of disabled children in Africa are  led to believe that when their child is born with a disability it is by way of retribution for their wrong doing. They also believe disabled children are unable to contribute to the family wealth  in that they will never work and will therefore become a burden. AbleChildAfrica are continually pushing these boundaries and dispelling myths by replacing them with facts and support.eriences in life that nothing can prepare you for. No amount of reading, watching or studying will create a sense of anticipation or understanding of what you are about to encounter.experiences in life that nothing can prepare you for. No amount of reading, watching or studying will create a sense of anticipation or understanding of what you are about to encounter.

I had discussed the  importance of the work that AbleChildAfrica does with the Director, Jane Anthony. I also had the opportunity to discuss some of the challenges faced by disabled children in Kenya with the Director of the Little Rock Centre, Lilly Oyare and the Executive Director of Action Network for Disabled Youth, Fred Ouko (both AbleChildAfrica local partner organisations in Africa), with whom I had shared my mountain climb.  I listened carefully to all their accounts of the work they are undertaking in Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda. So, as an AbleChildAfrica Patron I felt well prepared for my eventual visit to Nairobi. I was sure I understood the challenges and indeed I felt confident the trip would not contain any surprises. I could not have been more wrong.

As our taxi bounced over  the rough terrain of Kibera, often described as East Africa’s largest slum , the first signs of an environment where no human or animal should be expected to endure unfolded before us. Out of the dusty window, amongst the hustle and bustle, I could see  malnourished children selling small buckets of coal and makeshift stalls trading everything from dusty furniture to fruit and vegetables as well as pans of meat scraps and fish heads smothered in flies. I began to witness the abject poverty of the Kibera slums and I was shocked.

As the days unfolded I  underwent an emotional roller coaster.  At first,  I was overwhelmed, dismayed, shocked and appalled.  I accompanied Lilly and 3 very young boys with hearing impairments from the Little Rock centre into the depths of the slums. We went in turn to the homes of each child. We walked amongst the shacks,  bending low to avoid cutting ourselves on the sharp edges of the corrugated roofs that hung low enough to gauge out an eye. Stooping, ducking and trying not to slip into the human excrement streams that run through every tiny crevice. The stench was unbearable but we continued; I cannot show that I am not able to endure it because it is where thousands of people live. I cannot judge because their circumstances are complex and complicated. They are truly victims of a society, like so many others, which at times can feel as if it feeds off human misery.

We reached the home of Albert*, he pulls back the slatted wood door to his home, a single dark room tidy room with a mud floor and very little furniture. His mother is not home and he becomes distraught. His teacher tells us he is afraid we will leave him alone and not take him back to the centre but Lilly is there, she holds his hand and assures him in sign language that he she will not leave him alone. We go on, the heat is unbearable and adds to our discomfort.  I am not familiar with the terrain and we stumble often, unsure of my  footing and keeping Lilly in sight we move onward to the home of Daniel . The entrance is via a dark dank muddy alleyway and it takes several minutes for my eyes to become accustomed to the dim light in the room. It is here I am struck by just how much of an impact environment can have on functioning, without sufficient light in this house I have difficulty seeing and therefore reading the lips of the group and encountered difficulties communicating , I struggle to know what to say without patronising. No words seem appropriate.  There is a woman sitting on a slat of wood with a thin mattress, no duvet, no comfortable furniture except one chair which the woman  says she moves at night so the children can sleep on the floor. We hear a noise and in the gloomy darkness, there is another child stirring from a nap. He is startled by our presence and somehow this all feels voyeuristic and uncomfortable. I try to rationalise what I am seeing. It is hard to comprehend how these families survive, much less provide for the needs of their disabled children. Another sibling sits in the dark alleyway outside, It’s Arnold’s little sister, she has huge eyes and she is staring at us. I smile, she smiles back and her face lights the passageway!

We continue to the home of Peter. He is luckier than most because he has both parents at home in their one room, they have recently moved across the slum. Because Peter’s father is working they have electricity and a small black and white TV with a blurred image on a small table which has pride of place. The door is made from planks of wood and is hard to open over the rough mud floor, we ease ourselves inside one at a time into a single room, which is no more than 3.5 metres square. Families, often with several children, eat, sleep and cook in one room. A tribute to survival under the most extreme conditions.

As I begin to walk back to Little Rock  my thoughts reflect on the items  I have not seen. The homes are all void of toys, books, toilets, washing facilities and running water. Most have no electricity. No basic essentials or home comforts. I have no words to describe how I feel at this point. I was later informed that each family must pay 500 Kenyan shillings (about £3 UK or $5 US ) per month for rent. My heart feels so low and pitiful faced with the enormity of the challenges,  at this point I cannot begin to imagine how I can possibly help.

As I emerge from the slums and turn the  corner I look towards the gates of  Little Rock. The new  building, recently constructed by AbleChildAfrica,  is like a mirage in full colour brimming with smiling happy children.  This centre for early years education sits like an oasis in the midst of the slums. A beautiful bright sunny building, its walls decorated with cartoon characters and colourful friezes, surrounded by manicured borders shaded by clusters of bougainvillaea flowers. Here is the result of years of hard work, tenacity, persistence and vision. Almost 800 children benefit from this inclusive centre annually; it is  a  sanctuary of care and understanding in Kibera.

During my visit, I was accompanied by Jane Anthony, Executive Director of AbleChildAfrica and  a trustee, Alanzo Blackstock. Alanzo became a Trustee of AbleChildAfrica as he has a personal connection to their work, his brother Larry resides in Kenya and serves as a Trustee for Little Rock  It was also good to meet up with Shikuku Obosi, also a Trustee of AbleChildAfrica,  whom I met on the Kilimanjaro climb; we share our memories of the trials we endured together.  As I spent more time with the teachers, children and trustees I  gradually  begin to realise this is not a story of despair but one of hope ; with encouragement and funding they have created a tangible positive environment for the future of the children from Kibera. Lilly soon realised she could not educate students when they were hungry so she feeds them. She could not create a comfortable environment for them until they were clean, so she taught them about cleanliness. The Centre takes the children each day from as early as 7am. From the age of 3 months They are provided with a uniform of purple shirts and grey trousers, which they wear with pride. The Centre gives each child 2 meals per day. Most children would otherwise go hungry and the school feeding programme not only keeps the children nourished, it allows them to better concentrate on learning when in school. Each child is given structured tuition on reading, pronunciation and language including signing which means they become bi-lingual and  this gives them a huge advantage I join the children in various classes and noted the school has an ‘inclusive’ policy,  whereby  all children, including those with disabilities, are taught together, working together to support each other to learn. In fact, the extent of the inclusion is such that no child is left out and children automatically support those who need it, whether it be  inside or outside the classroom.

Lilly, or Teacher Lilly as she is affectionately known to the kids, works alongside state primary schools to secure placements for the Little Rock graduates,  and the children who have already been placed have attained top marks amongst their peers- they are a credit to her excellent teaching skills. They excel in their studies and will stand very good chances of going on to complete compulsory education, which is sadly by no means the norm for many children in the area. AbleChildAfrica and Little Rock are joining forces to ensure disabled graduates are afforded the same opportunities in state primary schools.

On my last day in Nairobi, I met with Fred Ouko, Director of ANDY, a youth lead Disabled People’s Organisation.  Together with AbleChildAfrica, ANDY  is currently running a programme that uses sport to engage young disabled people in social groups and healthy lifestyles and also offers them access to employment and training opportunities. Due to poor rates of access to education and training, the unemployment rates of young disabled people in Kenya are high.  I attended a deaf volleyball session and chatted with the team members about some of the challenges they face. I also meet with Benjamin and Eric, who are visually impaired, who participate in the ANDY Swimming club. They  are currently looking forward to internships arranged through the programme to help them get some skills that they hope will lead them into employment and ANDY will be there to support them along the way.

As the work of AbleChildAfrica grows it needs more partners, good education and public awareness and crucially, funding -these things are actually making a difference.

The lesson I learned is if you help them they will help themselves – so please dig deep and support the great work of this charity I am proud to be Patron of.

*children’s names have been changed to protect their identity.

Text DRUM14 followed by £10 to 70070 to donate to AbleChildAfrica and make a difference today.

Or you can donate online; https://mydonate.bt.com/charities/ablechildafrica

If you cannot contribute financially please share this blog with everyone you know, not just for me but for the thousands of children who often do not have their story heard.

http://ablechildafrica.org

www.evelyn.co.uk

A Feast for the Senses

We’re surrounded by sound, art and movement, which feed through every aspect of our world. From media to architecture, advertisement to passing car radios, we’re engulfed in a multitude of sounds and images that either plague or delight our senses. From buskers to classical music, pavement art to fine ‘gallery’ art – the range is broad and getting broader every day.

Although I’m profoundly deaf I also experience the same range of sounds as a person with unimpaired hearing, not to mention the sights, smells and other sensations, too. The difference for me is that I won’t hear in the same way as most people, so my perception of the overall experience will be different. Most of us have preferences for a particular type of music or style of art and the way we perceive those arts is different for each and every one of us.

I, too, have a sense of what I like and dislike. Through my music I’ve tried to break down barriers by pushing boundaries, bringing percussion out of the shadows and pushing my own limits as a sound creator.  I’m passionate about music that allows me to continue pursuing this goal. Along the way I’ve learned to open up my body to a new kind of listening, which has made for some truly exciting performance experiences.

Maria Rud

I was thrilled when the opportunity arose to collaborate with dynamic Russian Artist Maria Rud. Maria, like me, is keen to push her own boundaries through a highly distinctive artistic style and to find unique ways for audiences to experience and engage with her work. I feel an artistic kinship with Maria – being able to work closely with her is an absolute joy.

Maria and I at the NMS

Collaboration can be a challenge, particularly between different sectors of the arts. However, sometimes artists seem naturally to come together when a particular dynamism or unifying force emerges between them. This was definitely the case with Maria and myself. We met in 2011 and the creative juices began to flow straight away. Although we quickly sparked each other’s interests it wasn’t immediately obvious how our union would pan-out. Maria enjoys working with the spiritual responses she ‘feels’ from music and I like to work to the vibration and feeling of sound. This connection soon developed into something we could share through a project called AniMotion – an exciting combination of live painting, live music and now dramatic architecture.

Our first opportunity to perform together came at the National Museum of Scotland surrounded by an incredible array of historical artefacts displayed in the Grand Gallery. We almost became exhibits in our own right! Our AniMotion premiere definitely cemented our relationship! And it wasn’t just Maria and I that found it special. The audience, which included Vladimir Tolstoy, was treated to a spectacle in which music and art united in a way simply not experienced before. On that occasion Maria’s images – painted on a light box – were projected onto a large screen while myself and cellist Philip Sheppard performed. We played to her brushstrokes and she, in turn, painted to our music. The experience was amazing and the audience were completely absorbed and delighted with the performance.

AniMotion at St Giles

AniMotion continues to evolve and grow into new dimensions. Now we are bringing some of the country’s grandest architecture into the mix. Our most recent venture was at St Giles Cathedral in Edinburgh where the imagery was projected onto the dramatic canvas of the building itself. The cathedral came to life; its stonework danced with each brushstroke and its acoustic sang with musical sounds – literally when it came to the contributions of vocalists Fay Fife and Rebecca Tavener! It was lovely to work again with Dave Heath, whose music I’ve recorded. DJ Dolphin Boy brought an electronic (and electrifying!) edge to the experience, too.

Our audiences have come to expect the unexpected, to be simultaneously astounded and satiated by an unforgettable and holistic feast for the senses. If you haven’t yet seen an AniMotion show you're missing out on one of the finest artistic experiences around today – something I'm immensely proud to be able to say and equally proud to be a part of. I wholly recommend keeping an eye on my tour diary and booking tickets for the next event... there are some exciting projects on the horizon!

Two Happy Collaborators!