Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Gilli Loftus talks about playing piano, fortepiano and harpsichord


On January 22nd 2013 I interviewed 23-year-old Israeli pianist, fortepianist and harpsichordist Gili
Loftus. Born in Canada, Gili is presently living in Montreal, where she is studying for a doctorate.

PH: Gili, what are your earliest musical experiences?

Gili Loftus: My mother would take us to the concerts of the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra’s children’s series quite regularly. Knowing we were a little hesitant about them in the beginning, she bribed us with sweets. But in time we began enjoying the concerts very much.

PH: Do you come from a musical family?

GL: Yes. My mother plays the clarinet and my father, the guitar. They, my grandmother, aunts and uncles are all amateur musicians and have been playing all their lives. But both my siblings and I play professionally. My siblings are percussionists – my brother plays in the Israel Symphony Orchestra Rishon LeZion and my sister will be joining the Israeli army soon as an “outstanding musician”.

PH: What was your early musical training?

GL: I started taking piano lessons at age five or six. My elder brother was studying at the “Musikon” (the local conservatory in Mevaseret, where we lived) and my mother was interested to see if I also wanted to learn. I was a piano pupil of Michael Mereminsky for nine years, also taking part in other musical activities at the conservatory – choir, etc. I then went on to study with Etan Globerson at the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance.

PH: Did you attend a music-oriented school?

GL: Yes. From grade seven to nine, I attended the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance High School, then moving the Israel Arts and Sciences Academy in Jerusalem.

PH: Did you do army service?

GL: Yes, as did my brother. We were “outstanding musician” soldiers in the same unit. While a soldier, I began my undergraduate studies at the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance, then completing my B.Mus. in modern piano, studying under Eitan Globerson.

PH: When did your interest in earlier keyboard instruments begin?

GL: While still a student at the Academy, I attended two of the Early Music Workshops that were run by the Jerusalem Music Centre. There were some phenomenal tutors there and that is where I had my first encounter with the harpsichord (and tutors David Shemer, Yizhar Karshon and Matthew Halls) and fortepiano (with Zvi Meniker), playing the instruments, hearing others play them, participating in workshops and lessons on them and meeting builders. The fortepiano was an eye opener – I had never seen one before. In fact, that whole informative (might I say, life-changing) experience definitely steered me in the direction of early keyboard instruments and got me thinking that I would want to pursue- and delve into the field of historical keyboard instruments for my masters degree. I should add that I took some harpsichord lessons with David Shemer in my final year of the Academy; he was very influential for me.

PH: So you went to McGill University in Montreal, Canada, to do just that.

GL: Yes. I have been here since 2010. For my masters degree I took a double major in modern piano and fortepiano. Having played modern piano for so many years, I did not want to give it up; so am here playing all three keyboard instruments, now learning more about the earlier ones. I should add that I had no intention of giving up the piano, interested as I am in historical keyboard instruments. In fact, I continue to study piano, focusing– and performing on it as regularly as on the earlier instruments. I appreciate all these keyboard instruments. Here I have been studying harpsichord with Hank Knox, fortepiano with Tom Beghin, who is very active here in Montreal, and piano with Sara Laimon. I completed my masters last year and am now beginning a doctorate, having now added harpsichord as a major focus. The official language at McGill is English.

PH: Are you involved in research?

GL: The Doctorate of Musical Arts (DMA) is a performance-based degree. However, McGill University is a research university, encouraging its students to engage in research; so the two disciplines go hand in hand – the research informs the performance and vice-versa – and the degree is built around this idea. This is well suited to me. I imagine it will take me three to three and a half years to complete.

PH: What are your other musical activities?

GL: I teach piano privately and play in some ensembles.

PH: What kind of ensemble playing interests you?

GL: I am interested in playing in a musical collective of very versatile musicians who play on Baroque- as well as modern instruments and in a variety of styles, not focusing on only one style or period. This suits what I do and I love this approach. McGill is very active in early music as well as contemporary music. There is a lot of music happening here almost all the time. It takes time to become part of the scene, especially if one is not a French speaker. After two and a half years here, I feel I have slowly started to find my way in and am also becoming more conversant with the French language, which helps.


PH: Have you been performing?

GL: Yes. I have given a few recitals here in Montreal. Just recently I played a Haydn concerto on fortepiano with one of Montreal’s active period orchestra – L’OSVHSL (L’Orchestre symphonique de la Vallée-Du-Saint-Laurent). I have also performed as part of the continuo in Opera McGill’s Baroque opera production of Händel’s “Rinaldo”. Over the next few months, I will be giving a few fortepiano recitals in preparation for a competition in Bruges (Belgium) in which I will be participating in the summer, demanding performance of a lot of repertoire. Then, in the fall, I will be giving one of my doctoral recitals at McGill; this which will involve all three instruments and will focus on the prelude form and the art of and preluding. On the modern piano I will be playing Chopin preludes, on the harpsichord a variety of early French unmeasured preludes and more and, on the fortepiano, perhaps some fantasias of Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach. The recital will take a look at the styles of free, unmeasured forms and the kind of sound world composers have used in order to create this theme of fantasy”.

PH: Did you choose the latter subject or was it a formal requirement?

GL: I chose it.  My personal interest in the subject led to the programming.  

PH: What is your favorite repertoire?

GL: I really can’t say. The luxury of playing on three keyboard instruments fills a need in me to be expressive: every style caters to a different sensibility, offering me a wide range of experiences. So whatever I am playing at any given moment is what I am.

PH: What about contemporary music?

GL: I have done some, not as much as I would like, and have enjoyed it very much. A project I am part of now involves music of the very active contemporary Canadian composer Michael Oesterle. (Sadly, this program does not look like it will come to fruition for the time being.)

PH: Do you enjoy performing?

GL: Very much. Learning how to feel the most comfortable in what can be nerve-wracking and a potentially frightening setting is a work in process, but I definitely do enjoy performing.

PH: How do you find audiences in Montreal?

GL: They are very good audiences, most appreciative, filling halls for early music and concerts of contemporary music as well.



PH: How much time do you spend practicing?

GL: That varies according to what is on my program – what concerts or projects I have coming up. I do like to play on each of the instruments every day.

PH: Do you sing?

GL: Well, singing has not been a part of my studies here. This is not a requirement for Master’s and doctoral programs at McGill. The only place where I really sing nowadays is in the Reform synagogue where I grew up in Mevaseret, close to Jerusalem. For many years I taught trope to younger children there.

PH: Where do you imagine the playing three keyboard instruments will lead you?

GL: This is a big question and I do think about it all the time. I guess at this point I really see myself as being a part in all these keyboard worlds. From beginning my studies only on modern piano, I see a lot of value in widening one’s perspective. All three instruments inform each other, even in physicality and in the way they are played, in terms of style. I might even go as far as saying that, to some extent, the more people taking this approach the better. It is happening now and I would like to be a part of this trend. In the future, I would like to be part of a program that educates in an all-round approach to music education as well as playing and performing, programming and all things relating to the various styles.

PH: Do you see yourself doing this in Israel?

GL: Yes. At this point, however, I feel I still have much to learn and many people to meet before I can come home to share something I feel comfortable enough to present. Of course, these things in Israel, as in any place, are a matter of funding when it comes to concerts, venues, to attracting the public. One needs instruments, instrument builders, parts and libraries. At the moment, with Israeli orchestras struggling, it is quite a tough scene. I do some performing when I am home in Israel: in May, my two siblings and I performed a concert at the Jerusalem Music Centre. It was broadcast on Israeli radio. We had great fun doing it. It included most of the Art of Fugue and pieces commissioned by us by three young Israeli composers – Dan Deutsch, Ayal Adler and Ittai Rosenbaum. The set-up was interesting – xylophone, vibraphone and piano for the Bach; and a variety of other percussion instruments for the other pieces.

PH: How did Bach’s Art of Fugue sound in this scoring?

GL: We actually made no changes; it was only a matter of which voices to allot to what instruments. At first I imagined it would sound weird and I think it is fair to say that some contrapuncti sounded better than others; those that worked well worked really well!  And the sound that came across was very, very interesting, especially with the vibraphone having such a different sound quality to the marimba, as opposed to the piano.

PH: When it is not music, what are your other interests?

GL: I love to read anything and everything and to cook; I find cooking gratifying and calming. I also love to swing dance.

PH: What is swing dancing?

GL: It’s a style of dancing from the 1920s to the 1950s that originated in the USA. The term covers a number of dances, the best known dance being the Lindy Hop. I started doing it in Montreal. There is quite a big swing-dancing community here in Canada. (I did take ballet for nine years, eventually giving it up in order to have more time for music; but I did want to return to dancing.)


PH: Many thanks for this glimpse into your professional life and your broad approach to keyboard playing.



    

 


Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Talking to recorder-player Kees Boeke



On October 8th  2012, I spoke to recorder-player Kees Boeke in Tel Aviv. Born in Amsterdam, Professor Boeke, no new face on the local early music scene, was in Israel to teach and perform at the 3rd Early Music Seminar (Tel Aviv).

PH: Professor Boeke, do you come from a musical family?

Kees Boeke: Yes, I do. It was a family where there was a lot of music happening. My mother was a professional musician; she spent her life teaching piano, ‘cello and, later, chamber music and singing. She was a very well-respected music teacher and worked well into advanced age. My father started out being an oboe player but left it when he went to university; however, he always remained close to music. My grandfather was a conductor.

PH: What are your earliest musical memories?

KB: I have lots of early memories. From an early age, I was totally involved in music. (I read music before I could read Dutch.) I started learning the recorder at age five and was a child who listened to absolutely everything. On weekends, my parents would play recordings of operas; they had scores which I would follow. So, from a very early age, I was familiar with operas of Wagner and Richard Strauss, Verdi, etc. Alban Berg's operas left a lasting impression on me. We also heard Lieder at home, with both my parents being into singing. And, of course, I heard my mother teaching her students. You could say I had a varied, all-round listening education. I would listen to music all the time.

PH: Did you go to a music school?

KB: No, I had private recorder teachers and then moved to a teacher who was actually an organist. By age 11, I was studying with Frans Brüggen in Amsterdam. I started learning the ‘cello with my mother when I was 10; she was an excellent teacher and being family presented no problem to my studies with her.

PH: And as a high school pupil and later?

KB: As a teenager, I was already doing my first recordings with Brüggen and I was taking ‘cello lessons with Anner Bylsma. After high school, I went to the Royal Conservatory of the Hague (where Brüggen and Bylsma were teaching) which I finished in two years (1967-1969) due to the fact that I had done so much study during my high school days.  The Conservatory was an amazing place at that time, very avant-garde; that is where early music took off in Holland.

PH: When did you begin performing?

KB: I took part in my first Brandenburg Concerto at age 10 and my first performance of the Telemann Suite in A minor with my grandfather’s school orchestra when I was 15, by which time I was performing a lot.  


PH: Did you do a lot of performing at the Royal Conservatory?

KB: Yes. I had also become very interested in contemporary music and had started composing. It was there that we formed our ensemble - Quadro Hotteterre - in which Walter van Hauwe also played. The group had a long performing career – from 1968 to 1988.

PH: What did you do on finishing your studies in The Hague?

KB: I immediately got two teaching jobs, although still quite young. One was at the Groningen Conservatorium, in the north of Holland, and, almost at the same time, I also began teaching at the Royal Conservatory in The Hague, where I had been a student. I taught for three years, but then had the need to stop being in schools. So I took time off to freelance.

PH: Did you leave teaching?

KB: Well, not for long. In 1975 I, together with my friend Walter van Hauwe, started teaching at the Amsterdam Conservatorium. We did what you might call “dual teaching” - teaching together. There was a large class of students that took lessons from both of us. All the students would be there for four days a month; in our method, the student does not have a weekly private lesson, but all are present together, they listen to each other’s lessons and the teachers alternate. In fact, we institutionalized this method as a way of teaching and it continues to be used. We called it “block teaching”. The system works extremely well.

PH: Let’s go back to your composing.

KB:  Composing has always been somewhat of a hobby for me. Most of my compositions are for the recorder in one combination or another. For me, it has always been a way of reflecting in music – early or contemporary. I don’t work at it intensively and have done very few commissions. I write when I feel like it. I wrote my last piece in 2003.

PH: You mentioned modern music. Do you perform a lot of contemporary music?

KB: I have. Am not doing much of it at the moment. Am, at present, busier with my work on medieval music. For contemporary music, one needs to invest a lot of time. But I am still very interested in it. I have my own record label – Olive Music – for which we have just issued a recording of the Prime Recorder Ensemble - an impressive ensemble of 13 big double bass recorders, using live electronics, a group based in Lausanne and directed by Antonio Politano.   (Politano had been a student of mine.)  A variety of Italian and American composers, also one from Peru, have written music for this ensemble. It is terrifically interesting music. Antonio Politano and I also had a duo of bass recorders together with electronics we called “DUIX”.

PH: Let’s go back to your connection with very early music.

KB: Actually, I did not start out as a Baroque musician. As I mentioned before, at home I was educated in every kind of music under the sun! Well, in the 1950s, early music basically “did not exist” in the way that we understand it today. Then, through being a recorder-player and meeting Frans Brüggen and friends, the repertoire for recorders was Baroque- and contemporary music. I started doing a lot of research in the field of Baroque music and searched for anything I could find to play on recorders. I also became very interested in Renaissance music, in composers such as Dufay. Here I should mention Kees Otten – Brüggen’s teacher and a very interesting man. He was actually a jazz clarinet player, but chose to focus on Renaissance- and medieval music! His work stimulated my interest in the latter. So, by the time I had explored the Baroque, I naturally started getting more philologically interested in what had happened in the Renaissance, trying to make connections as to how things developed the way they did. So, for me, it was natural to take a step back in time, rather than going forwards. I also changed from playing the ‘cello to playing the viol, giving me more access to Renaissance repertoire. My enquiry into this music developed slowly into the 1980s. Of the many groups we have had, there was a group formed at the end of the 1980s called “Little Consort Amsterdam” – an ensemble with soprano singer, lute player (Toyohiko Satoh) and Walter van Hauwe; I played the viol in it till I decided the viol was not suitable enough and that we should acquire fiddles. So I had a medieval fiddle built for myself and Toyohiko started playing medieval lute-type instruments. We started to perform. I was very excited about the ins and outs of this music, its philological aspects, the texts etc., and I started doing a lot of research on late medieval repertoire. After that, I was one of the founding members of “Mala Punica” a group under the direction of Pedro Memelsdorff. It was an ensemble focusing specifically on the repertoire of the late 14th century. Together with Memelsdorff, I developed more ideas and more repertoire, basically a lot in Ars  Subtilior – the musical style of the late 14th century. I am basically still busy with that field of research, a field in which so little is known and so much needs to be done; there is an enormous wealth of extremely valuable repertoire there.

PH: Is this research connected to a university?

KB: In 2006, at the University of Music in Trossingen in southern Germany, where I had been teaching since 1990, I promoted the idea of opening a department of medieval- and Renaissance music. Studies in medieval music are not widely available in Europe, except at the Schola Cantorum in Basel, where the people there do things in a specific way. I felt we should have a medieval department in Trossingen that was more practice-oriented. It came into being in 2006 and I have been running it for the last six years.

PH: How do you find audiences react to medieval music?

KB: It is hard to generalize. Medieval music is highly specialized and it is a completely different language. Much in the same way as modern music, it is important for the listener to like it on first impact.  A completely unprepared audience will have a hard time connecting with it because it is really so different. However, a non-specialist but interested audience will be convinced by the sheer beauty of it despite perhaps not understanding precisely what is going on.  But if you involve yourself more as a listener, become more informed, immerse yourself in the poetry and the arts surrounding it, it becomes more profound in meaning.  In general, and when we play at festivals, audience reactions are very positive.

PH: This is not your first visit to Israel.

KB: No. I was here last year for the 2011 Early Music Seminar in Tel Aviv and, in the late 1990s and a little later, I taught at the Early Music Workshops in Jerusalem. I have also been here with Jill Feldman, my wife, who has taught many master classes for singers in Israel.

PH: How did you find the standard of students in your classes this past week?

KB: The standard was good, but there are various levels as we have mixed-level groups.  It was also wonderful having eight recorder students from the Guildhall School of Music in London this year. There was a very good atmosphere at the course. I found all the students, advanced and less advanced, to be keen and interested. They asked plenty of questions. If you consider the fact that there were 50 students at the first Early Music Seminar, 80 last year and 120 this year, one sees a big surge of interest. Perhaps for next year they should be more severe in selection. On the other hand, the seminar provides an opportunity for beginners to make contact with early music and to hear how good it can be. This is stimulating for them, so, for that reason, perhaps they should not be separated from the experienced players.

PH: Have you ever performed with any of the Israeli early music ensembles?

KB: No, I have not, except for the concert we performed the other night playing all sorts of consort music with Drora Bruck (musical director of the seminar), Tamar Lalo and Alon Schab, within the framework of the seminar. It was really enjoyable.

PH: What are your future plans?

KB: I’m not much of a planner. Things seem to happen of their own accord. I cannot plan writing a new composition; I only know I probably will, but I do not know what it is going to be. I am very involved with my record label – Olive Music: it takes up a lot of time and it is not a money-making enterprise. I expect we will issue a second CD with the Prime Ensemble. I have also been working with the Royal Wind Music, a big recorder ensemble based in Amsterdam. I did a guided project of Renaissance music with them and we may do a recording. I have more on my plate than I can deal with and, of course, am continuing the research in medieval fields. Now, at 62, I have just stopped teaching in Zurich; having started teaching at age 15, I thought it was now enough. But I continue teaching master classes, which I very much enjoy, as well as more specialized courses in early music, lately having worked in Spain, Portugal, Japan, Korea and here in Israel.

PH: What do you think is happening with the authentic movement at the moment?

KB: I sort-of expected that question. It is very hard to look into the future. Being where I am, I personally think early music activity is too focused on doing Baroque, that Baroque music has become translated into Baroque opera, and that Baroque opera basically translates into Händel. We are dangerously moving away from a diversified picture of early music, even of the Baroque period.  We hear less 17th century music, with the exception of Monteverdi, his music being narrowed down to “Orfeo”, “Poppea” or the “Vespers”, and nothing of his other repertoire. So there is this enormous narrowing down, basically fired by commercial interests, especially in these extremely difficult times when culture, anyway, is not getting much funding. This is totally uninteresting in terms of exploring the past. Early repertoire has become like another performance of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. Whether it is a good or bad performance is something else, as also applies to performing Beethoven’s 9th. Early music should mean excitement and discovery. I will continue to say that early music has to be an avant-garde medium. For example, in the concert this evening to be performed by Rainer Zippering (‘cello), Kenneth Weiss (harpsichord) and myself, we will play pieces by composers only most of whom are familiar to early music people; yet the audience will probably know very few of the pieces on the program. This is the mentality of curiosity on which I insist, also with my students.

PH: You mentioned involvement in serious rock music. Did I hear right?

KB: You did, indeed! Of course, the development of pop music into serious rock music in the 1960s did not pass me by unnoticed. I followed anything that came along in the late '60s with deep interest, especially what was happening on the west coast of California. I have never felt any difference between musical genius in that particular musical area or  in the so-called classical world of Jazz. Well, music is music and, in particular, serious music is serious music...wherever it is coming from. In fact, there are more similarities between a medieval song and a rock song than between medieval song and Monteverdi aria!

PH: When it is not music, what other interests do you have?

KB: Well, I am very active as an olive farmer where I have been living in Tuscany, Italy for 32 years on an isolated farm with 600 olive trees. I used to make wine as well, but the wild boar were taking over, eating all the grape vines. I love to travel and see new places. (For my work I travel a lot, doing more travel than is healthy!) I am a very busy person and have little time for hobbies.  I still love music, for which I am grateful.

PH: Many thanks, Kees, for your time, for so much interesting information and for thought-provoking ideas.







Friday, July 20, 2012

Tilman Skowroneck in Israel


Harpsichordist, fortepianist and musicologist Tilman Skowroneck (b.Germany, 1959) is no new face to the Israeli Baroque music scene. He was recently in Israel to take part in a Jerusalem Baroque Orchestra concert of harpsichord concertos in the Henry Crown Hall of the Jerusalem Theatre. I met Dr. Skowroneck in Maestro David Shemer’s music room in Jerusalem July 13th 2012 (his birthday, in fact), where he was holding a two-day harpsichord maintenance workshop for harpsichordists.

PH: Tilman, do you come from a musical family?

Tilman Skowroneck: Indeed yes. My father, Martin Skowroneck, started out as a flautist and then began building recorders and harpsichords. From making instruments for himself, he has become one of today’s most renowned harpsichord builders.

PH: What are your earliest musical memories?

TS: Growing up in the house of a harpsichord maker meant that initially I had a fairly biased musical diet of Baroque music and not very much else.

PH: And how did your own musical activity start?

TS: I was born in Bremen. With my father being a harpsichord builder, we had several instruments in the house and I started recorder lessons when I was five years old. But it was not my instrument…or I may just have been a little too young to start lessons. We had a little virginal at home and I began playing that when I was five and a half. My music teacher had a decent spinet at his home.

PH: How did your taste in music develop?

TS: When still too young to operate the record-player alone, I listened to records and began to be interested in hearing organ music. Then, in the late 1960s, there was the phase of the records of Gustav Leonhardt and his ensemble playing Bach harpsichord concertos - for one-, two-, three- and four harpsichords. Those really fascinated me. What also comes to mind was my liking for the Bach orchestral suites. I was not yet interested in the classical style – that happened when I was 16.


PH: Did you go to a music-oriented school?

TS: No. From age 5 to 14 I had private lessons on the harpsichord with Jan Goens, the church organist in the area of the city where we lived. There were not many harpsichordists around then and, although an organist, he was interested in the harpsichord. My teacher had a lot of patience with me…I was a headstrong child and did not always practice. I think that he only lost patience with me once or twice in all those years! On the other hand, there were a few things that he didn’t teach me and that needed to be learned later and with considerably more effort.

PH: Did you study the organ with him?

TS: No.

PH: Where did you take higher musical studies?

TS: I began at the Royal Conservatory of The Hague, where I went to study with Bob van Asperen in 1979. I had just completed my alternate mandatory service, working in a sailors’ home in Bremen. Working there full time, I ended up quite exhausted by the end of the day and was not doing so much practice on the harpsichord. I thought my playing was progressing well, but had nothing with which to compare it. But Bob van Asperen did not think I was getting ahead quickly enough. In fact, I was given a period of probation with him, which I actually did not pass. In November, he said he felt my playing was not going anywhere, but I still thought otherwise and got in touch with Gustav Leonhardt – a customer of my father and a friend of the family - to ask his advice. He said he would first need to hear me play. I had heard some of his master classes but had never actually played for him. A little nervous at first, I played for him and it was fine. He recommended I study with Anneke Uittenbosch; so, from 1980 to 1983 I studied with her at the Amsterdam Conservatory. Then, interested in a contrast of approaches, I went to study with Ton Koopman for two years. After that, I had one year of tuition from Gustav Leonhardt himself. In 1999, in combination with my doctorate, the subject of which was Beethoven, I went to Cornell University (Ithaca, New York) and took lessons on fortepiano with Malcolm Bilson.

PH: I understand you live in Sweden now.

TS: Yes. I have been in Sweden for 22 years and do most of my playing there. What happened was that, following my studies, I freelanced in Holland for a few years and then somebody called me from Sweden, informing me of a position in the unlikely city of Borås, a community of some 60,000 inhabitants east of Göteborg. It was to help establish “Corona Artis”, an ensemble of six players on early instruments; I was to be harpsichordist and fortepianist. For the first six years of its existence, playing with “Corona Artis” was a full-time job, then becoming a half-time job. We did evening concerts, we helped church musicians in the performance of choral works such as cantatas and we did quite a lot of children’s concerts at schools.

PH: Does the group still exist?

TS: What happened was that there was a shift of policy and the financial backing we had been receiving was then to go to world music. “Corona Artis” was dismantled, although we occasionally play together…either some of us or all the players, taking part in various projects.

PH: Do you give solo recitals?

TS: Yes. I play recitals and also do research.

PH: Would you like to mention something about your latest research project?

TS: Yes. Just last year I concluded a post-doctorate at the University of Southampton (UK) on the subject of 19th century Viennese piano building; this meant looking into negotiations between builders and customers and seeing how the public’s wishes influenced changes in piano construction. Well, we do know that piano construction changed much in the 19th century: the piano became twice as heavy, got twice as many keys, etc. and we have always supposed the Schumanns and Beethoven etc. to have been responsible for that. But the push to bring about change in piano construction must have come from other sources; so there is a new story to be told, tying in with sociology and the history of technology. I am trying to combine a few different aspects there. It is coming out as a book and I am now busy putting the finishing touches writing the last chapters.



PH: Do you also build instruments?

TS: No. That is my father, Martin Skowroneck. He is 85 years old and, at the moment, is busy building a harpsichord. But I do occasionally do maintenance. Of course, I have seen and learned a lot in my father’s workshop and I feel it is important to be able to maintain my own instruments and other instruments built by my father. Maintenance is an important part of keeping the instrument sounding good. It is much to the detriment of a harpsichord if it is not regulated properly. As to the mechanical aspect, I cannot say the task thrills me greatly – it is a lengthy process. Regulating a two-manual harpsichord can take three hours and it is fiddly work. My own harpsichords at home are equipped with bird quills and not plastic plectra; keeping them in good shape is slightly more work-intensive – each quill has a different lifespan.

PH: What about teaching?

TS: I would love to teach more! At the moment I am busy teaching in a masters program for organists in Göteborg . With the historical approach there, I am teaching continuo classes on harpsichord. I am also doing supervision in two different music departments of the University of Göteborg.

PH: Do you compose?

TS: I would like to. It is a matter of having time for it, and I am not trained as a composer. However, I did notice that in England there is to be a competition for composers, for which submissions are due this coming August; I am toying with the thought of trying my hand at writing a piece.

PH: Have you written arrangements?

TS: Yes. An interesting project I was involved in was to do with a ballet written by Anders von Düben – the third generation of a line of Swedish composers; he was writing in the French style around 1700. Having just returned to Sweden from studying in France, he wrote a work – “Narvabaletten” (The Narva Ballet) - to commemorate the Swedish victory over the Russian enemy at the Battle of Narva (1700) and it was a work that needed to be finished very quickly. He missed out a lot of the inner voices in the score; some instrumental parts had beginnings but were not completed. I am not quite sure how the work was conceived. The manuscript was in the Uppsala University Library in Sweden. Organist, musicologist and conductor Hans Davidsson was interested in making recordings of this kind of music. We got our hands on a version of the piece arranged by a Swedish musicologist. Some of the ballet consists of ensemble pieces by French composers. So, there we were rehearsing when the oboists claimed their parts were unplayable. There were also some voice-leading problems. Someone was needed to rework the manuscript in the French style, so I took upon myself to do most of the reconstruction of the score.

PH: Would you be interested to conduct harpsichord and fortepiano master classes here in Israel?

TS: Most definitely.

PH: Now that you have completed your second, large research project, what are your plans?

TS: I feel it is time to give some more recitals. Having been at Southampton University for the recent research project, I did make contact with some of the players there, performing a recital and a double concerto of J.S.Bach.

PH: How does one combine being a performer and a musicologist?

TS: This is not at all simple! It is difficult to fit both into one day as the mindsets are so different. One cannot practise in the morning, then drink coffee, eat lunch and switch over in the afternoon to sitting at a desk doing research, for, in the afternoon, your mind is still working on the music you were playing in the morning. The other way around does not work any better – you end up trying to play the harpsichord in the afternoon with your mind distracted by concepts from the morning’s reading! So what works best is doing a whole week of one and then a week of the other.

PH: How does it work with practicing harpsichord and fortepiano?

TS: Actually, that is a similar problem. A few years ago I participated in a fortepiano-flute recital - Kuhlau, etc. – and I practiced a lot for that. Following the concert, I thought I would now just go over to the harpsichord; but I learned that one needs a break before doing that.

PH: What harpsichord repertoire do you especially enjoy playing at this stage in time?

TS: I am very comfortable with French Baroque music and like to include some in recitals. I also have a real love for music of Elizabethan England - virginal music, especially that of William Byrd. The latter is challenging to perform, although one should not include too much of that style in a concert as not all audiences will want to hear a whole evening of Elizabethan harpsichord music. The exquisite beauty of this English music must be presented in a specific way, so two or three pieces of it in one concert are a real treat.

PH: What about contemporary music for harpsichord?

TS: Strange you should raise the subject. I have just ordered the sheet music of a new harpsichord work by a composer who won first prize for it in an American competition. It is a tonal work and easy for me to access, much more so than most of the music written in the 1960s and 1970s. With my approach to the harpsichord as a “vocal” instrument, I am not interested in music that takes a mechanical/percussive approach to the instrument. The harpsichord is an instrument that can sound very ugly!

PH: How do you see trends in harpsichord-playing at the moment?

TS: For a while I was so busy with my own activities that I was not really following trends, as were many of my colleagues. But, of late, I have been listening to many players on YouTube. Harpsichordists tend to post recordings of their playing on YouTube at all stages of their studies and careers. I have discovered some amazing performances by people one has never heard of. So, with a bit of creative searching on the Internet, one discovers some gems. It is a medium allowing for many players (of a variety of levels) to be heard. I am pleased that players are daring to record their playing on YouTube and CDs. But, of course, it is not easy to be a unique performer, to have something special to say with your playing.

PH: Do you sing?

TS: Well, I have sung in choirs and I don’t “not sing”, but no, it is not a focus of mine.

PH: When it is not music, what interests you?

TS: I like to cook. I do like gardening, time permitting (but am a lazy gardener). I enjoy the outdoors although we are not spoilt for sunny weather in Sweden! I am interested in model trains and I used to draw quite a lot, but seem to do less of that nowadays.

PH: Tilman, many thanks. It has been most interesting talking to you.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

British countertenor Patrick Craig talks about his career and the world of countertenors today


British countertenor Patrick Craig has spent the last 16 years singing with the Tallis Scholars, The Cardinall’s Musick and as a singer of St. Paul’s Cathedral Choir (London). He also conducts his own ensemble -Aurora Nova – Britain’s leading all-female choir that sings in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Guest conductor of The Cardinall’s Musick and the Cecilia Consort, Patrick Craig has also conducted, taught and lectured at Tallis Scholars summer schools in Oakham, Seattle and Sydney. On June 20th 3012, I met with Maestro Craig in a café atop a hill overlooking the Adriatic Sea in Le Marche, Italy. We met again in Jimena de la Frontera (Spain) on April 23rd 2013, where Patrick was teaching a week-long choral workshop for amateur singers.

PH: Patrick, are you from a musical family?

Patrick Craig: Yes. My father was a chorister, as I was, at Lichfield Cathedral in the Midlands, England. As an ordained priest, my father needs to sing in his work. As a small child, I grew up being aware that my father sang and I started singing in the parish church choir even before becoming a chorister at Lichfield Cathedral. My mother is a pianist and she also sings. My parents met at Cambridge University singing in a choir…they met through music. Educationwise, my brother took the same direction as I (only two years ahead of me) as a chorister - he was head chorister at Lichfield Cathedral; we both attended the same school and the same college. Today, my brother is a school headmaster.

PH: Would you like to talk about your time as a boy chorister?

PC: Yes. I enjoyed singing solos. I was a high chorister and sang solos such as that in Allegri’s “Miserere”, which goes up to a high “c”. (My brother was a low chorister and we often sang duets together). We received a lot of musical training in the cathedral, although I would not say it was the best vocal training I have had. It was technically a little old-fashioned. Things have moved on a lot since then in terms of the information given to children on how to sing. I did, however, learn a lot about instrumental playing at the cathedral school.

PH: What musical experiences influenced you greatly when very young?

PC: As a small child I was taken to concerts of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. One of my earliest musical memories is that of sitting on the stage at the Birmingham Town Hall (they encouraged children to sit close to the players) hearing ‘cellist Paul Tortelier playing a solo. Actually, the ‘cello had been my first instrument, before I started learning the violin. Hearing this very expressive ‘cellist performing the Elgar ‘Cello Concerto made an impression that has stayed with me. As choristers, we had to sing a lot of church music. From that time, the sense of singing in a community has always been a big thing for me. As a chorister, I learned a lot about teamwork.


PH: What secondary school did you attend?

PC: My mother, working full-time as a special needs teacher, was determined to give me the best possible education. I attended Shrewsbury School, one of the top public schools in Britain. I had a music scholarship, and this helped with the financial side of my school education. The school had not previously enjoyed a huge musical reputation, despite having a good music department; however, the music side took off in the time I was there, with opportunities growing. We went on tour to Europe with the choir. Shrewsbury School provided me with a fast-track music-learning experience: there, I was arranging music for competitions, listening to a lot of music and I was playing several instruments. I entered the school as a pianist and violinist (as a violinist I led the orchestra but never became a solo violinist as I did not have much vibrato technique; thinking about it now, I should have become a Baroque violinist!) I also took organ lessons but kept my piano-playing going. For my last two years of secondary school, I was sent to study the piano with Frank Wibaut in Birmingham; he was one of the top concert pianists in England and was teaching at the Royal Academy of Music (London). Taking my piano studies on a more serious level made an important impression on me. Then, one day (I was 15 at the time) I saw a notice on the school notice-board announcing that there was a harp available. (I had loved the instrument ever since singing Benjamin Britten’s “Ceremony of Carols”, which we performed every year. I still remember the very glamorous harpist who would play each year…a magical creature who played barefoot, accompanying us treble voices.) So I seized the opportunity and began playing the harp, which I still do.

PH: Do you own a harp?

PC: They are very expensive instruments to buy and, after I had left school, my mother hired a harp for me; it was an old harp and the wood was starting to rot. I watched it slowly deteriorate until it eventually exploded from the tension of the strings. My mother decided it was counter-productive to hire these old instruments and she bought me a Japanese harp, the one I still have. This was a big financial investment and I took playing it very seriously.

PH: Did you continue to learn the harp?

PC: Yes. When a student at Cambridge University I took harp lessons, despite the fact that I was an organ scholar, giving me many opportunities to play at university. That was very special – there were only two harpists at Cambridge University then. I was a student at Selwyn College there, where my brother was a choral scholar. For one year, I conducted him in the choir. (This was a challenging situation. He was very sporty and would often turn up late for rehearsals.)

PH: Let’s talk about your career as a countertenor. How did it begin?

PC: At age 13, I went down from singing treble to alto; I never got to explore my lower voice, as I did not think my voice had broken. When I was 18, an ear-nose-and-throat specialist told me my voice had not broken. Sadly, I carried on thinking my voice had not broken till I was 22 years of age. I went right through school and university speaking in falsetto, quite a traumatic experience in an all-male school, and then taking university choir rehearsals in a high voice. A speech therapist at Cambridge told me that I had “this other voice” and that I could “start using it tomorrow”! I told her that I was established with my present voice and that I was not sure I could change that. However, before moving to London, I decided to try to use my lower speaking register and did intensive speech therapy in Cambridge. For two weeks I visited the speech therapist every morning, using pitch in music to hear my voice now placed two octaves lower than how I had previously been speaking. In the afternoons I had to go to the shops, to call my parents etc., to practice using my “new” voice. The friend who accompanied and supported me during those two weeks, Lucy Winkett, has referred to my story in her book “Our Sound is Our Wound”. I then went to London with a new speaking voice identity. This is certainly not how most countertenors start their careers, but it is a big part of my story!


PH: At what point did you actually decide on a professional singing career?


PC: Had I been born many years earlier, I might have ended up singing in a cathedral (not necessarily in London) as a lay clerk, combining that with a teaching role. I like children. I took a history degree at university and just assumed I would be a history teacher, having no intention of becoming a professional singer. Then a weird thing happened: my tutor at university forgot to put in my application for my teaching degree, a one-year course necessary for me to take in order to go into the profession. This changed the direction of my whole life and I had to do something else; I went to Wells and sang in Wells Cathedral choir for a year. It was then that my singing teacher, Nigel Perrin, suggested I go to music college. So, my history tutor's negligence was rewarded with my entering an environment where there were lots of opportunities and I could pay for music college by taking on all sorts of singing jobs that would not have been there many years ago.


PH: Who was a major influence on you as a countertenor?

PC: I would say it is Michael Chance. He came to Cambridge University when I was there, singing solos in Bach Passions and the B minor Mass. I found his singing compelling…he had a very masculine-connected, rich sound. Hearing him sing made me think that I would like to be doing that.

PH: And Alfred Deller?

PC: Oh, very important. Last year was Alfred Deller's 100th birthday. He was the singer who relaunched the countertenor voice, a voice previously very much hidden away in cathedral choirs. He was  very meaningful to what I and many other countertenors do now. Today there are hundreds of top countertenors; this has all happened in the years from when Alfred Deller became famous. I wanted to mark Deller's 100th birthday at St. Paul's. In the 5 o'clocj Eucharist on the very day of his 100th birthday, I sang the "Esurientes" from the Bach Magnificat and I soloed with the choir in the whole of the "Agnus Dei" from Bach's B minor Mass, both  classic Deller pieces recorded by him. It was a grand and very emotional event. I was so happy we had marked him on the actual day; like so many great singers, he had sung at St. Paul's having come from Canterbury Cathedral. His was not a loud voice, but it had lots of blade and carried well. For me, there is something about the countertenor sound that really suits the St. Paul's Cathedral acoustic. (We now have four very fine and different countertenors singing there. Deller himself spoke of countertenors as being different from eachother.) I think Alfred Deller stood in the same place as I stand in the Cathedral choir, so I do sense his presence. And Deller was then the first singer (a countertenor too, in those days!) to perform on Radio 3 just as it was starting in the 1950s; he was not yet well known.

PH: Today you are greatly involved with the music and activities in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London.

PC: Yes. I have been singing in the choir there for sixteen years; that is my salaried job. We sing from 4:30 to 6:00 in the afternoons – that includes a half hour rehearsal and then Evensong. Then on Sundays we do three services; in addition, of course, there are many extra services we are invited to do. I have also taken on other responsibilities at St. Paul’s: I am an assistant librarian, I proofread all the service papers and I teach singing to some of the clergy. My community centre is very much that job.

PH: I hear you have made a major change in the musical life of the cathedral.

PC: You could say that. When I started out at St. Paul’s Cathedral in 1995, there were no women doing anything there in the liturgy – there was one female verger, no female servers and no female clergy. I found that odd after being at university in a choir that was half men and half women. Actually, in my last year at Cambridge University, I put on a concert of music for women’s voices, a program on the theme of the Virgin Mary…some wonderful music, including the “Ceremony of Carols”, in which I played the harp part. Then, in London, I thought it would be amazing to carry this idea on and run an all-female choir. So I brought in a choir of 18 women – Aurora Nova - to sing a service when the cathedral choir was on holiday. As you can imagine, we got a lot of publicity following that first Sunday the women’s choir sang. The Guardian newspaper published a small article and a picture of the groundbreaking event. This choir has now been in existence for 15 years and has sung over 100 services across 40 Sundays. The members, some of them top singers from the The Sixteen or the Tallis Scholars, are singers I work with regularly; they have real energy, are able to meet on the day of the service and learn much material in record time…some of it being music that is rarely performed.

PH: And the other ensembles of which you are a member?

PC: I sing with the Tallis Scholars, which I joined in 1997; I have done 750 concerts with them over that time. They do about 50 a year, most of them abroad. We go to the USA twice a year, to Japan every other year and we have been to Australia. We also do “hit and run” concerts in Europe, flying there one morning and returning the next. The Tallis Scholars have been going for almost 40 years. (I still feel I am one of the babies there.) Singing in it has been quite a formative and solid part of my career. Quite soon after joining that, I started singing with The Cardinall’s Musick, which is a newer early music group run by Andrew Carwood, who now happens to also direct the music at St. Paul’s Cathedral; he is the first non-organist to direct music at St. Paul's. Carwood’s approach is different to that of the Tallis Scholars. He likes the group to be more soloistic…it is more about individual voices than about total blending. He also likes to place the music in a historical context. Whereas the Tallis Scholars give a very formal, strictly disciplined presentation, Andrew Carwood likes to turn around and talk to the audience, explaining about the works on the program, providing background information. I really like this approach, but both ways are valid. I have done much recording with both groups. The Tallis Scholars’ glorious years of recordings were the 1980s, but they slowed down somewhat after that time.


PH: Let’s talk about your solo singing.

PC: In 1992, I went to study at the Royal College of Music in London on a post-graduate singing course. I spent two years there. In those days, there was a countertenor teacher – Ashley Stafford – who has continued to be my singing teacher till today. There were only two countertenor students at the Royal College at that time. I chose the regular singing course (rather than the early music course, as was expected of countertenors). There I took classes in languages, movement, drama and different genres of song; opportunities for me were broadening very quickly. I had not been singing for very long, so, technically, I was on a bit of a fast track. In the meantime, Ashley Stafford was changing his own direction and training to become an osteopath! This meant that my singing lessons became a little sporadic. During my time at the Royal College of Music, I performed in two Händel operas. The London Händel Festival also needed countertenors for solo roles; I had to step up and suddenly found myself being viewed, doing broadcasts of Händel operas on the radio and big festival performances. That was a steep learning curve for me. I then did most of my solo singing soon after leaving the Royal College of Music, having more time then than I do now. I was frequently asked to do a lot of solo work before Christmas and Easter –  Messiah and the St. John Passion, etc. – in works that have countertenor soloists. Nowadays, the Tallis Scholars go to the USA every year before Christmas and before Easter, so those time slots have become less available for me for solo work. My solo options now mainly come from St. Paul’s Cathedral, because we do big performances of such works as the St. John Passion,  Messiah and Haydn’s “Nelson” Mass and I am one of a rota of four for the solo alto parts. I still  do the occasional solo role for a choral society concert, but I do not get to “exercise that muscle” so much nowadays. However, I do love my working life and feel no need to add more activities. St. Paul's Cathedral is flexible about my ensemble work and concert tours with both ensembles.

PH: And recitals?

PC: I did some recitals at the Royal Academy, where students were required to build up recital programs, but that has never been a big part of my career. I do not see myself as a recitalist.


PH: You are now at the height of your singing career. Did you imagine your career would go in this direction 20 years ago?

PC: Well, I must disagree with you on that point. The truth is that 20 years ago I was at a high point and have been lucky to have remained on that plateau. My jobs with St. Paul's Cathedral, The Tallis Scholars and The Cardinall's Musick have been running in tandem for 15 years or so. It has been quite consistent, with the solo work falling off a bit due to my heavy work load.

PH: You are enourmously busy. Do you ever feel you would like more time for yourself, to live a slower-paced London existence?

PC: That will happen when I retire. Things are still at a somewhat manic pace, but what I do is to squeeze the "ordinary" life in somehow - theatre, friends, etc. London is brilliant!

PH: Do you teach?

PC: Yes. I have taught music consistently since leaving music college. It is a very good way for singers to supplement their income. Doing a teaching day fits in well with the hours I work at St. Paul’s Cathedral. I taught in schools; one of the schools was the Harrow School in London, an all-boys school. For a while I was the only singing teacher there. The Harrow School has the curious tradition of always having a countertenor voice teacher, whereas most of the boys there are tenors or basses! I taught there for about four or five years, but today only do private teaching. As I mentioned before, I teach singing to London clergy and feel I have something to give there.

PH: There are many "schools" of singing, but your approach seems to be based on a much wider, more flexible and dynamic concept.

PC: That's true. A lot of singing teachers I know have a set technique on which they focus, giving them  real structure to their teaching, which is very directional. Such a method is Estill  Voice Training, a very specific and different approach to singing and totally alien to me. As I mentioned earlier, my singing teacher is a trained osteopath; for him, singing is first of all about body integration...singing with the whole body and understanding how it works. But also, the idea of my- and his basic technique is a stripping away of artifice from the voice. I am interested in releasing the natural, God-given instrument, whereas many schools of singing "impose" a technique on the voice. For me, singing technique is trusting what you do and not the constant worry about "fulfilling specific instructions". I perfectly understand the need of those rigorous singing techniques when singing a Wagner opera, but I am lucky to be singing the kind of music using release. I do have stamina as well. As to the "dynamic concept", Ashley Stafford, my singing teacher turns up to each lesson with a new idea. I have been studying with him for 12 years and we are always moving on. He has a very creative mind.

PH: Your world of singing combines cathedral music with the most specialized ensemble singing. Where does running a workshop for amateur choral singers fit in with that?

PC: For me it is the same mission; there is no barrier between the two. In my daily work, I work with people who may go at a faster pace, coping with more information, but, for me, any concert  is about communication, about saying something, about discovering something together with the audience. A week like the Jimena de la Frontera workshop is about passing on knowledge, not just through a singing performance but also by adding layers of  information. I feel that, in making music, we are going into the music to discover something about the way we think, who we are and what we are doing here. Communicating carries me into what I do.

PH: Do you still write arrangements?

PC: No. Sadly, I did not really pursue that. In the early days of Aurora Nova, before I was more familiar with the existing repertoire for women’s voices, I arranged a few pieces of church music that I really liked for the choir, such as Benjamin Britten’s “Jubilate in C”. I have carried on using these arrangements but also use the repertoire for women’s choir and am now connected with composers who commission works for the choir. Arranging is a very time-consuming activity.

PH: Do you compose?

PC: No. I have never composed. I have never been called upon to do it but would like to try one day.

PH: Watching you conduct, it is clear to me that you have a good sense of movement. Do you dance?

PC: I love dance and go to quite a lot of dance performances in London – often to the Sadler’s Wells Theatre, where they stage a lot of modern dance. I especially enjoy modern dance. I recently went to see the Pina Bausch Company, which is doing a big festival in honor of the 2012 Olympics in London. I found it moving. But I have never trained in dance, apart from movement classes at college. One of my teachers there said I had a good imagination for movement, but I have never pursued it. However, it is a field that interests me very much. I have a feeling that the voice and dance are very closely connected; for me, they are the two most thorough expressions of human emotion. Using your voice is using your body. Well, if I am reincarnated, I would like to come back as a dancer!

PH: Observing your work as a choral conductor, I have noticed your interest in the various non-musical connections of the music being studied.

PC: Yes. That is something I learned from singing with The Cardinall’s Musick. It is very much the approach of its director Andrew Carwood, who is a true Renaissance man. He is very well read, has an amazing memory for facts and has inspired me to go into interpretation of a work, of the kind where you bring in the social history surrounding the music. (Actually, I read History at Cambridge University. I took several courses in Social History, a field that deals with the “little” people who do not get mentioned in history books.) For me, to link the sociological aspect to music is very interesting. Much music has been sponsored by the rich and famous, but a lot of the composers have come from more lowly backgrounds. I find the linking together of context – where the music was heard, where it came from and its emergence - helpful and informative to both performer and audience. It is nice to have time to explore this side. When Andrew Carwood has been absent, I have stepped in and done the presentation in concerts, also conducting and singing in them – big, step-up concerts for me. I have also used the historical background approach in Tallis Scholars summer workshops in England, America and Australia. It is nice to go back to my undergraduate studies and bring historical aspects into music.

PH: Let’s talk about the world of countertenors of today.

PC: I feel the countertenor world has changed hugely during my 20 years in the business. Whereas I was the only countertenor in my second year at the Royal College of Music, there are now 11. I think the countertenor world has exploded in my time. It goes back to Alfred Deller, who, as mentioned earlier, began his career at Canterbury Cathedral Choir and then moved to St. Paul’s Cathedral, where he sang for 15 years. Similar to my own way of life, he used the job at St. Paul’s to serve as his  base in London, from where he ran the Deller Consort. I feel I have inherited that opportunity. With fewer around, there were many more opportunities for countertenors 20 years ago.

There are a lot more young countertenors out there today and with a really high standard, with the teaching of teenagers more prevalent. Teenage singers today are so confident and so are 21-year-old singers applying for jobs. The standard of the sound of countertenors has improved very much over the last 20 years, as has their ability to become more spectacular. I have countertenor acquaintances who are pursuing solo careers…such as Robin Blaise, a friend of mine, who travels the world as a soloist. There are many more like him who have stepped up a level and I admire them hugely. Nowadays the countertenor is being used in opera in a way it could not have been when I started out, due to the volume of sound needed to register in opera houses. The truth is that the countertenor voice has gained in “glamour rating”. Not necessarily in a good way, music has become “youth-oriented” and that suits the countertenor singer. The countertenor voice flourishes early and does not need the years of maturing that the bass voice does. The fact that the countertenor voice has the most impact in the singer’s 20s and 30s suits the current music scene. And there are superstar countertenors out there cashing in on that and enjoying many opportunities for recording. There is a turnover, as they do not last so long in the limelight. Well, I am also a part of that scene; it is nice to see the countertenor voice being more accepted in general classical terms.

PH: How do you see your own future as a countertenor?

PC: Ultimately, I do not feel my countertenor voice will see me through to retirement, but I might be wrong on that, as it is going very well at the moment.

PH: What plans do you have for the immediate future?

PC: Many. There is the Tallis Scholars’ 40th anniversary coming up next year. The Cardinall’s Musick is still touring with concerts of the entire sacred works of William Byrd. I would like to study more conducting technique, as I am now getting more opportunities to conduct orchestras at St. Paul’s Cathedral. It is very exciting. On the Sundays of July, we do a series of orchestral Masses. I will be directing the last of those this year (2012) and will be using the City of London Sinfonia, a professional orchestra. This will be quite a learning curve for me. The orchestra players do not know me and are going to want to see what I can do! Then there is a big event for me for the Olympics: on July 29th I will direct Gounod’s “Messe solennelle de Sainte Cécile” – a big Gounod 45-minute work. I will be doing the upper voice version of it with Aurora Nova, together with the orchestral part (it is frequently done with organ accompaniment). It should be quite spectacular! This is the biggest future plan on the horizon!

PH: Is there a lot of competition in the kind of work you do?

PC: All these jobs are greatly sought-after. A lot of people are interested to be doing what I do. There is a raft of people - many of them very young and confident - ready to step in if a job becomes available but work possibilities are not increasing. The recording world has shrunk a bit and YouTube has changed things. However, we must be ready to embrace the latter and other opportunities offered by the Internet, such as Facebook.

PH: And long-term future plans?

PC: I think I would like to gradually shift the emphasis from singing to conducting and possibly run a regular church choir, involving my interest in sacred music, in liturgy, and to be a director of music rather than a singer.

PH: You were an organ scholar. Do you see yourself as an organist in your future plan?

PC:  I would need to get back to doing a lot of work there and that needs time. It would be useful for a church job, although I do not enjoy it enourmously.

PH: In 20 to 30 years time, what do you imagine you will write in your memoirs? What will characterize them?

PC: They will not be musically- or intellectually focused. They will be about the people, the friends the stories. I am bad at remembering individual concerts. The concerts I remember are when something unusual happens! (When I was a student performing the Durufle Requiem, a man in the audience had a heart attack and fell into the aisle. Our conductor did not see it and we continued singing. Mind you, for a music-lover, this is not a bad way to exit the world! Such wonderful music.) My memoirs will centre around the bigger experience of being part of the music world.

PH: Patrick, when it is not music, what other interests do you have?

PC: I am quite a pop culture person. I love good American- and British television. I keep up on dramas; at the moment the current trend is Danish dramas, which I find really thrilling and enjoyable. Have already mentioned dance performances. I also really love going to the theatre in London. Through a friend of mine I get to go to press nights at the National Theatre; so, at a reduced cost, not only do I get to see amazing shows, I am also able to “stalk” all the celebrities I see on television! These are dream nights not to be missed. I also like to cook both for myself and for friends. I do not do too much entertaining as, with travelling a lot, I need my own space. And I enjoy all the different cuisines when travelling.

PH: Patrick, many thanks! It has been most interesting talking to you and hearing about the many sides to your professional life.

Friday, May 18, 2012

When music and literature meet:Nava Semel's novel "Screwed on Backwards"


Music and the power of art in human survival are at the heart of Nava Semel’s recently published novel “Screwed on Backwards” (2011, Kinneret, Zmora-Bitan). The novel comprises two narrative sections. One story takes place in the 1930s in a northern Italian village in Piemonte under German occupation. Three people live in a remote farmhouse – an elderly mother, her opera singer daughter Madalena and Tomaso, a six-year-old foundling they have taken in from an orphanage in Turin. Then there is a school teacher, an ardent Fascist, who is in love with Madalena, and a young Wehrmacht soldier, a Nazi who also falls in love with the beautiful young singer. On the farm, there is a neglected barn considered out-of-bounds; of course, this outbuilding allures the child, firing his imagination. One day, Tomaso senses the presence of another person there and fantasizes that the attic is inhabited by a captive princess. He begins to attach notes and small gifts to a rope for the princess, his offerings disappearing by the following day. This “interaction” becomes Tomaso’s private world into which he retreats. But, as the book’s title conveys, he is not, for some physical- or emotional reason, a child who is accepted among those around him and his imaginary world might put the family in danger.

Parallel to this story, another sequence of events unfolds in an intensive care unit of a hospital in Israel, where a nurse is sitting by a comatose man. His identity is a mystery to her, but he has a manuscript with him, in which the above story is told. The nurse spends nights reading aloud from the shabby pages in the hope that the patient will awaken and identify himself; is he one of the people involved in the events of wartime Italy? Who is her patient and where does he fit into the puzzle?

The second part of the book is narrated in a more poetic style by the man who is now comatose – a Jewish musician and Madalena’s lover. Madalena, the young woman had taken music lessons from this Jewish maestro and, when war broke out, the orphanage was a place to hide their illegitimate child. Tomaso’s daily interaction with his imaginary princess is, in effect, with his own father whom he has never met.

References to musical- and non-musical sounds are thread into the fabric of the text throughout, some factual and realistic, others poetic and figuratively woven into the memory strata of the book. ‘The most beautiful sound to Tomaso’s ears was that of the opening of the buds of the rose bush’ (p.114). In the first part of the book, mention is made of the fine quality of Madalena’s singing voice and of Tomaso’s liking for Verdi’s opera “Aida”: ‘When Madalena sings, Tomaso forgets everything… The young boy especially liked the story of “Aida”, the foreign princess who had been taken prisoner in Egypt…’ (p.34) Horrified to learn of the tragic fate of the lovers in Aida, Tomaso decides that Verdi was especially “screwed on backwards”, but instead of feeling a sense of fraternity towards him, in fact, a dislike of him welled up within him’ (p.50). And music belongs to the parallel story. In the chapter titled “Hushed Song”, there is discussion on whether to play the comatose person rock ‘n roll or trance music or the “Lacrimosa” from the Mozart Requiem together with the “Ode to Joy” from Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. ‘This young nurse is, indeed, devoid of all musical aptitude, but she is certainly able to play her patient a hushed song’ (p.36) ‘The nurse drums on the patient’s arm…increasing the drumming, matching the rhythm to the pulse – her pulse’ (p.63).
Semel’s returning to Verdi’s “Aida” again and again, and on different levels, constitutes an important connection between the book’s characters. ‘He thrust into my hand a worn music notebook which he had pulled out from the drawer of his table, urging me to open it. This was the original score of “Aida”, as written in Verdi’s own hand, and his most precious treasure’ (p.183).

On May 13th 2012, Nava Semel and I met and talked. I was interested to hear more about the musical element that prevails supreme throughout the pages of “Screwed on Backwards”.

PH: Let’s start with the story. How did it originate?

Nava Semel: Six years ago, I was on a lecture tour in Italy. I was invited to give a lecture in memory of Primo Levi at the Fossoli Camp, a concentration camp where Italian Jews arrested by the Nazis were taken before being sent to extermination camps. I was feeling very emotional talking about the Italian Jewish writer Primo Levi and this was Human Rights Day. Resulting from that event, I was sent to Piemonte to give more talks. My interpreter was a very pleasant young Catholic woman who had a liking for Hebrew songs. As we drove along the highways of Piemonte, I taught her some Hebrew songs. We made a detour to the small village where she had grown up; she wanted to pay her mother a short visit. While she was with her mother, I went for a walk around the picturesque village, with its prominent chimneys and tiled roofs – it was a romantic, pastoral spot from which one could see the snow of the Alps. When looking at one of the sloping roofs, I imagined a film. In my mind’s eye, I saw a person lying below one of the sloped roofs there peeping out at me through a crack. It was like a flash of lightening in my mind. When my interpreter Maria Theresa returned, I asked her what really had happened in this village; she immediately understood what was behind my questioning and answered that Jews had been saved there. My gut feeling was that a story had awaited me in that village, presenting itself as I was wandering around there; it was as if it were waiting for someone through whom it could be told. That very night, I heard the opening words of the book; I heard six-year-old Tomaso saying “There is a principessa (Italian: princess) there…”

PH: How did the element of music find its way into the book?

NS: Music very quickly became part of the fabric of the novel. I began hearing sounds and voices. The moment it was “revealed’ to me that Madalena was an opera singer, I began hearing Verdi’s music to “Aida”. The story was given a kind of orchestration in my mind (as well as in the minds of some of my readers). And, of course, in the second part of the book, I literally began to hear the work Salomone Levi was composing. From writing the book, I am changed person when it comes to musical awareness….I hear so many more of the sounds around and within me.

PH: What is the significance of names you chose for the characters?

NS: I was not aware of it at the time, but I do, indeed, pay homage to two people here – one is Primo Levi and the other, the Italian Jewish composer Salomone Rossi. The choice was a subconscious choice at the time! I should add that the Levi tribe, one of the twelve, was a tribe of instrumentalists. David and Solomon were both musicians whose artistry has been of great inspiration for me: King Solomon wrote the most romantic book, “Song of Songs” and King David, the Psalms, the most desperate of books. My book “Screwed on Backwards” gravitates between two poles – love and despair. The love between Salomone and Madalena was inconceivable in those times: as of 1938, the union between Christians and Jews was forbidden, not to speak of parenting a child together.

PH: This is definitely the story of love.

NS: Yes. The book focuses on what a person is willing to go through for love. Throughout the story, Madalena comes up against endless obstacles for her love. I feel the need to apologize to her for what I have put her through. I salute her for what she was willing to do for her lover: she lost her child, she lost her reputation, she was considered a prostitute for the Germans, and as if that were not enough, she had to have a German living in the house and to carry on intimate relations with him.

PH: How does this love and suffering connect to music?

NS: The music is consolation, despite the fact that Madalena will never be able to sing again; neither will she find comfort in “Aida”. But “Aida” is Tomaso’s consolation, and it is also, paradoxically, a consolation for Hans Dieter, the German soldier. And “Aida” is surely the source of Salomone Levi’s survival, for whom the padre has left pages in the attic where the musician is hidden, even ruling up pages for him with music staves, and suggesting he write another work. This is an impossible idea for Salomone.

PH: So Salomone learns to survive without music.

NS: No. From the moment Tomaso begins to bring him small offers via the chimney – fragments of the world, shards of inspiration, such as a yellowing rose, autumn leaves, all of which he is deprived – the sounds of the outside world are restored to him. And on the subject of autumn leaves, how can an Israeli be familiar with the crackling orchestra of autumn leaves? The experience was mine when living in New York 20 years ago. Following months of a difficult pregnancy, during which I was cooped up inside our apartment, with the outside world only reaching me through “filters”, my mother arrived in October to help me with the newborn twins. She suggested I go out of the house and take a walk. Within a quarter of an hour, I was in Central Park – now a veritable palace of mounds of autumn leaves, the wind whisking them up here and there. It was there that I heard the musical resonance of dry leaves. With a sense of urgency, my legs began to carry me off straight into the piles of leaves, crushing the leaves as I went, my own body orchestrating the experience. It was one of the most wonderful concerts I have ever heard. The world of nature, in all its musical splendor, reveals itself as a player, an orchestrator, in which various instruments play together – the air, the wind, treetops, autumn leaves, etc. In “Screwed on Backwards”, Salomone crushes leaves in order to hear them and sense their smell and the air outside.

PH: Let’s go back to a connection you made between the Jewish musician, the musical score and survival.

NS: This element comes into the book on a number of levels. Back in Turin, before his shop was shut down, a Jewish bookseller named Jacobo, fearing his shop would fall into Fascist hands, gave Salomone Levi Verdi’s original handwritten manuscript of “Aida”. When Salomone flees from Turin to the village in Piemonte, he leaves it behind in the apartment. In the year he is hidden in the attic, this fact worries and tortures him; he wonders whether the manuscript had been torn up or ruined or whether a music-lover had entered his apartment and taken it for safe-keeping. Levi was aware that there were Fascists and Nazis with a taste for culture and hoped that that fact would mean the document had been preserved. But the most tortuous thought in his mind was that the German Nazi taken into the house to be Madalena’s “lover”, much as she resented him, thus saving Salomone, was also cultured and a music-lover; the German was constantly requesting that Madalena sing “Aida”.

Salomone Levi survived the Holocaust. The fact that Madalena and her mother managed to save him was a major acheivement in those days. And Levi’s work – his book – survived. Who knows how many works written at the dark time of the Holocaust did not remain – paintings, music, diaries, etc.? If it were not for Theresienstadt and the love of music the Nazi captors had, works such as Viktor Ullmann’s “The Emperor of Atlantis” and Hans Krása’s children’s opera “Brundibar” would have been lost. It is a fact that camp prisoners, aware of the fact that they might perish the following day, came to hear these musical performances. So if my book could represent so many works that did not survive, that is meaningful.

PH: So where do we come into the experience?

NS: In experiencing music, literature and theatre, the listener, reader and observer are actually taking part, creatively adding something of their own. Hearing music, the listener is “playing” the music in his mind. A person involved in reading is indeed “rewriting” the book onto his own personal map.

PH: Writing “Screwed on Backwards” has proved to be a musical experience on many levels.

NS: Yes. Many levels. And, for me, Hebrew is a very musical language. In writing “Screwed on Backwards”, the Hebrew language became a musical instrument for me. Just as Salomone Levi heard music in his mind, I heard music as the novel was being created. I do read music but consider myself a layman in music. When composer Oded Zehavi and I met after he had read the book, he was curious to know what music I had heard in my mind, the sounds from which my inspiration had come. He came to the conclusion that the music playing in my head was that of Arnold Schönberg. Perhaps one day I will hear the music that Salomone Levi wrote and know that that is the music I was hearing! What I do know is that for months I was living with the novel’s “soundtrack” playing in my mind.

PH: In conclusion, how would you summarize the process of artist himself in the book?

NS: One of the dangers of being an artist is that of hubris. All of us creating can so easily become excessively proud and arrogant. Salomone Levi, from being a confident musician at home performing on the stage, receiving standing ovations, ends up lying down in an attic. It is here that he begins discovering the world anew, rethinking it, also from the point of view of music. He senses are now limited - he can see Tomaso only in snatches, he cannot hold Madalena. The only things that reach him are sounds and voices, sounds and voices he had ignored till then. The wind, carrying Tomaso’s voice to him through the chimney has become his friend. The rain becomes his new orchestra. The falling leaves serve as new inspiration to compose. Salomone now understands the score played out by nature and is able to then write a work in hiding, using the instruments at his disposal - imagination and his heart. This is another example of the artist able to create in the direst of circumstances.


Novelist, playwright, film script writer, librettist and poet Nava Semel was born in Jaffa, Israel. Much of her oeuvre bears reference to the Holocaust. “Screwed on Backwards” is her seventeenth book. Her works have been translated into ten languages and have won international prizes. In 2007, Nava Semel was granted the “Literary Woman of the Year” Award of the city of Tel Aviv.