This new release from composer, sound artist and pianist Helen Anahita Wilson is a 45-minute soundscape created by taking unique, natural bioelectricity readings from plants in the oncology section of the Chelsea Physic Garden, London. These plant signals were then converted into musical data.
Helen says, “Each of the 28 plant recordings express their own special patterns of pitch and rhythm: the petal recordings are very active with a variety of different notes and rhythms whilst the branch and trunk recordings are slow moving, with drone-like textures.
Once the bioelectricity recordings were converted into separate musical data tracks, I assigned an instrument to each of these 28 parts. For example, the petals of the Madagascan Periwinkle (Catharanthus roseus – pink form) are played by the harp and the bark of the English Yew tree (Taxus baccata) is played by the viola. The birdsong and rainstorm are field recordings triggered by signals from a small Sisal (Agave sisalana) and an Opium poppy (Papaver somniferum), respectively.
I combined these instrumental lines and applied compositional processes of editing and development to create a unique piece of plant-derived music.
At times, such as the opening minute of the piece, all the plant recordings are sounded together as an ensemble. At other points in the piece, particular plants take the role of a soloist with just a couple of plants accompanying quietly in the background.”
This beautiful, atmospheric, calming and ambient music can be enjoyed by anyone, but the piece is dedicated to people undergoing treatment for cancer, and was inspired by Helen’s own challenging but ultimately successful experience of cancer treatment, including chemotherapy. Many chemotherapy and other anti-cancer treatments are derived from plants: exactly the same plants recorded in this piece of music.
“Linea naturalis offers a means for people to connect back to nature whilst receiving treatment in the sterile, unnatural environment of a hospital or cancer centre. This music aims to demystify cancer treatment through highlighting the natural derivation of many drugs.” (Helen Anahita Wilson)
Linea naturalis is available to download via Bandcamp. All proceeds from this music will go to Maggie’s, a charity offering care and support to people with cancer across the UK.
This article first appeared on the InterludeHK site, part of a series exploring musicians’ connections with particular composers
Why is it that some pianists have become so closely associated with specific composers? Is it due to personal preference, that they feel a particular affinity with certain composers, or simply like their music? Or is the association one which is conferred upon them by critics, commentators and audiences? Media focus undoubtedly plays a part in this: the pianist becomes an acknowledged specialist or authority in the music of a specific composer, or composers, and their other performances/recordings may be overlooked as a consequence. Take Alfred Brendel, for example – a pianist most closely associated with the Viennese masters Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert – yet he also made some very fine recordings of Liszt’s piano music.
This series of articles will explore pianists who have a special relationship with specific composers.
Beethoven’s 32 Piano Sonatas – scaling the pianistic Everest
Beethoven’s 32 Piano Sonatas are often referred to as the ‘New Testament’ of the pianist’s repertoire, and for many pianists they offer a remarkable, quasi-religious journey – physical, metaphorical and spiritual – through Beethoven’s creative life. This is truly “great” music, that which is endlessly fascinating and challenging, intriguing and enriching, and such is the popularity of this repertoire that you can guarantee that somewhere in the world right now there is a concert featuring these remarkable sonatas.
“There is something about the personality of Beethoven that is so overwhelming, and I think that the sonatas are the pieces that go the deepest, that show him at his most exploratory, his most inventive, and at his most spiritual.” – Jonathan Biss
Artur Schnabel
The first pianist to record the complete Beethoven piano sonatas in the 1930s, just a few years after electrical recording was invented, Schnabel set the standard by which all subsequent recordings was set, and his playing is acclaimed for its intelligence and insight, emotional depth and spiritual understanding of this music. So fine were his recordings that one critic described him as ‘the man who invented Beethoven’.
Daniel Barenboim
“I’ve known these works for many years….but whenever I go back to this music I find something new.”
Beethoven’s piano sonatas have followed Daniel Barenboim throughout his career, and such is his affection for this music he has recorded the complete piano sonatas five times, most recently during lockdown when, during this period of enforced isolation, he decided to approach the sonatas anew. His first recording was made in 1950s when he was a young man. It is perhaps an indication of the reverence with which this music is held, and its distinctive challenges, that Barenboim has made so many recordings of the sonatas. For him, this is music which has an infinite appeal, to be taken up by other pianists who follow him.
Annie Fischer
It is interesting to note that few women pianists have recorded the complete Beethoven piano sonatas, Annie Fischer being an exception. The music of Beethoven was central to Fischer’s career and her recordings are still much admired, nearly 30 years after her death. Her style is unaffected and self-effacing, letting the music, and composer, speak, and her playing displays great nobility, elegance and humanity. Her recording of the complete piano sonatas is regarded as her greatest legacy.
Igor Levit
“Beethoven’s music kind of creates this link between the player, the music, the audience. This triangle is enormously intense.” – Igor Levit in an interview with Jon Wertheim
Igor Levit released his first recording of Beethoven piano sonatas when he was just 26, an album which received huge acclaim for its intense expressivity and Levit’s mature approach balanced with a youthful ardour. He released his recording of the complete Beethoven sonatas in 2019.
In his performances of Beethoven, Levit produces a clear, lively and well-balanced sound, but he’s not afraid to roughen the edges of the music to create a more visceral impact. His concerts can be intense, almost uncompromising, but his Beethoven playing is some of the most exhilarating and adventurous to be enjoyed today.
Jonathan Biss
For American pianist Jonathan Biss, Beethoven has been a close companion throughout most of his life, and during the past 10 years he has fully immersed himself in Beethoven: he has recorded the complete piano sonatas, performed complete cycles around the world, and also teaches an in-depth online course about the sonatas which has attracted over 150,000 students globally.
“As individual works, each is endlessly compelling on its own merits; as a cycle, it moves from transcendence to transcendence, the basic concerns always the same, but the language impossibly varied”
Biss is a “thinking pianist”, with an acute intellectual curiosity and an ability to articulate the exigencies of learning, maintaining and performing this music. His Beethoven playing has long-spun melodic lines, well-balanced harmonies, taut, driving rhythms, rumbling tremolandos, dramatic fermatas, carefully-considered voicing, subito dynamic swerves, and colourful orchestration. It is not to everyone’s taste, but his performances can be vivid, edge-of-the-seat experiences which reveal how Beethoven took the genre to the furthest reaches of what was possible, compositionally and emotionally.
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During a practice rut that felt particularly more existential than others, I became obsessed with one question: ‘Can classical musicians ever graduate from their role as ‘craftsman/craftswoman onto that of creative artists? And if so, how may this be done?’
Turns out that this question was an urgent one and resonated with every strand of the classical music industry, from my student peers at London conservatoires to the musical stars of today. Famous pianist Kirill Gerstein posed this exact question to his guest, legendary artist Ai Wei Wei in one of his online seminars for the Krönberg Academy, where the latter had spoken at length about the responsibility of artists to shape the world through creation. I noticed a frustration amongst classical music interpreters of seemingly being some of the only artists deprived of the right to create. In reality of course they are not the only ones: classical actors, dancers, and interpreters of all types share this condition. The question is one of relevance: if classical performers are unable to create, how can they be instrumental in shaping culture and the world? How are they relevant as a cultural force?
For classical music performer, this inability to create in a poietic way (this means ‘to create something original’ as opposed to creating a variation on something that already exists, like an interpretation of a piece for example) is unhelpfully combined with a certain disdain of the profession towards behaviours that could bring attention to oneself, due to a conflation, in the minds of many people in the profession, of the presence or lack of interpretative integrity with certain onstage and offstage behaviours.
To be a classical performer is to be a professional interpreter. When interpreting a score, it is useful to forego one’s subjectivity and replace it by a more appropriate subjectivity instead in order to get closer to capturing what the composer had in mind. When we read Beethoven it is useful to park our most immediate instincts for a moment and try to figure out what Beethoven might have meant by his markings using not our contemporary understanding of the markings but a ‘historically informed’ (for lack of a better expression) reading of those same markings. In a way, at the point of exegesis of the musical text, this process is indeed one of – momentary – self-effacement. But in classical music, for some reason, we have collectively decided to performatively self-efface in a more general sense, ad absurdum, to show our audience just how committed we are to the process of conscientious interpretation.* Thus, anything that a performer does that might be considered to bring too much attention to themselves, such as flashy concert clothes or unconventional programming will elicit suspicion on their ability to sufficiently remove their ‘self’ when they sit to study a score. If you don’t believe that this is a common amalgamation, read this disturbing Norman Lebrecht article about how Yuja Wang would do herself a favour by dressing more soberly: people would then be able to recognise her for the true master that she is. If she were to do that, according to him, she ‘could be a sensation’ (!).
It’s difficult to say for sure whether classical musicians are generally less free to express themselves than classical actors or dancers. Take political views, for example. New York Times
journalist Zachary Woolfe describes pianist and activist Igor Levitt by contrasting him to the other ‘classical artists, [who] by and large, remain publicly reticent about their politics — this isn’t Hollywood’. Whilst actors are considered free, classical dancers seem to be in a similar situation to classical musicians: choreographers talk about things they care about aside from dance, but very few dancers do. The unfortunate consequence of classical music’s effacement ideal is that many classical music interpreters feel not only that they cannot create but also a frustration about not being able to express their full selves, on and offstage, or they might be thought less of.
As I ventured on this strange undertaking of combining Stand Up comedy with straight, serious classical piano performance, I found that talking to an audience about your quotidian as a classical musician in a funny way does much more than get them to feel more engaged. It makes them see you as a person. It means that people don’t just see you as the vehicle for a moving musical message, but they also see you: a partaker of the human condition, which I think has equal potential to move as ultimately we are all vulnerable little chickpeas trying to navigate the huge harira soup that is the world, and it is moving to see another person like us striving, trying, struggling. Just like classical music masterpieces have the power to tear us to pieces telling us things about ourselves that we didn’t even know (Robert Levin’s beautiful phrase), stand up comedy has the power to reveal aspects of ourselves, feelings and emotions that were a part of us all along but we had not noticed until now. It shows us that despite our differences, we are all moved or amused by the same things, and that many of the things we love and care about are the same. Laughing through difficulties gives us the strength to resist until we might see another happy day. Sublimation of pain is something that is very much shared between these two artforms.
On a separate note, breaking free of concert conventions for this show did make me feel like I was creating on a poietic level, and personally much more aligned with my work. I hope that the classical music world will become more open to making this kind of creation for available interpreters should they choose to (as opposed to reserving it for composers), as this will benefit both performers who will be able to be more fulfilled, and audiences who will benefit from the authenticity of these new exchanges. At the moment, it seems that the industry favours a model that seeks to create highly reproducible events so agents can rotate their roster artists from concert to concert without anyone noticing. It’s about time we recognise what we have to gain by granting performers more agency in how they present the pieces that they are interpreting.
*Musicologist Nicholas Cook talks about this in his book Music: A very short introduction (Oxford: 2000
Aïda Lahlou will be performing her Stand Up Comedy Meets Classical Piano and her Mirrors: A Recital with a Story shows in London this October as part of the Bloomsbury Festival (14/10 and 21/10 respectively). Tickets on sale here.
Aïda Lahlou is an up-and-coming Moroccan pianist and one of the most exciting talents of her generation.
Following a BA in Music at St John’s College, Cambridge, throughout which she studied with Caroline Palmer, Aïda is currently enrolled for a Masters in Piano Performance at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama, studying with Peter Bithell and Ronan O’Hora.
You are somehow there when Bach was composing this piece, and you are working with him, and then you forget everything that is around the area you are living in; you’re somehow there, with your hero, your mentor… I don’t want to play notes, like a robot, I want each note and each rhythm to mean something or, to like, touch someone’s heart.
Teddy Otieno, 2021, Nairobi
Arriving in Nairobi, Kenya, on New Year’s Day 2021 for six months of performing, masterclasses, filming a documentary, and escaping London lockdown with my young family, I had no idea what to expect of the pianistic landscape. I’d previously played Rachmaninov’s Paganini Variations with Nairobi Symphony Orchestra (a roughly equal mix of Kenyan and expat amateurs – Kenya has no professional orchestra) and given piano recitals in the city; this time I planned to work as much as possible with aspiring young pianists and learn a bit more about what provision there may be for advanced piano studies in Kenya. I was set up to work with the charities Ghetto Classics and Art of Music Foundation, and also had funding from the Royal Philharmonic Society’s Enterprise Fund to make a film about the young classical musicians I met there. I’m generally fascinated by other people’s lives, so I was excited to learn how the experience of aspiring Kenyan musicians might compare with my own.
It was a wonderful experience to make that film (available online – watch below). The musicians I worked with, mostly self-taught, made me feel inspired and quite naïve. We take so much for granted in Europe. We may complain about a lack of interest from the wider public but we nevertheless have a strong classical music infrastructure: institutions and established paths of support for talented youngsters. Benaars, who wanted to be a full-time pianist but was instead studying as an economist, told me with wonderful understatement “There are lots of people who want to study music but the financial prospects are rather grim, you know. The parents talk them down.” There was simply no money available in classical music in Kenya. The possibility of making a living as a performer, he said, “is really clearly out of the picture”, and because of that there is no-one able to guide younger students in the discipline and dedicated technical work required of a soloist. Benaars again: “I wish I’d just had that… someone not just challenging me, you know, but insisting.”
There is wonderful musical outreach work going on in Kenya, not least Ghetto Classics, which takes music and self-belief into the most underprivileged areas such as Korogocho slum in Nairobi. The ABRSM graded exams are also very popular and highly respected. Everyone I spoke to, though, agreed that there is little tuition available from the higher grades onwards, other than occasional masterclasses from visiting professionals such as myself. As a result, there is a lack of consistency and a lack of awareness as to what effective practice entails. David Ralak, a violinist then aged 28, explained “learning this instrument is really difficult if you don’t really meet a teacher face to face, because some things you hear them describing… it’s not as easy. You know, they describe them very easily because they do them very easily. But then, when you try and do it, there seems to be a whole layer of information missing. I knew what I had to do. It’s either I find money and go to Europe… or I just figure it out myself.” David is the one person I met who is just about managing to squeeze out a living as a musician: performing, coaching through various organisations, founding a string quartet (which plays at functions) and teaching privately a lot. After a fluke chance to attend a summer school in the UK a decade ago, he decided to devote himself to the violin and ‘figure it out himself’. But this is a very lonely path, every day is a struggle to survive, and it takes an incredibly unusual person to make it work. (Watch David’s story below)
In the first class I gave in Nairobi I had an inkling I’d found someone else quite unusual. Teddy Otieno (quoted above) was 19 and had come through the Ghetto Classics scheme in Korogocho, initially learning tuba because that was the instrument no-one else wanted to play. He had no piano, instead practising whenever he could at a community centre and teaching himself the piano using online videos. These were his first ever regular piano lessons, but I immediately noticed his natural musical instinct and passion, and astounding focus and determination to learn. Talking about his dream to perform as a soloist, he said “It makes me hopeless somehow, because there’s no-one to look up to in terms of that level right now… Because no-one is bothered on what to do. Like how much practice one needs to put in to the piano.” We worked together on Bach, Chopin and Debussy, and after my return to the UK he continued sending me videos of his playing for feedback and practice tips. I was excited to see his potential and his self-motivation. I persuaded Teddy to apply for conservatoire, just to see what would happen, and by the spring he had been accepted on a scholarship to study piano at the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire, something which he had never dreamed could be possible. After an immense effort to fundraise the remaining international fees, living costs and flights, he moved to Birmingham in September 2022 and is now starting his second year.
This summer I returned to Nairobi to continue teaching and performing, interested to see all these musicians again. There is a new express road in Nairobi which has improved daily life there no end. There were many more participants in the masterclasses now (42 registered to attend, giving me an enjoyably busy time), quite a few of them students of Benaars and Teddy. I also learnt about two new piano shops open in Nairobi.
What was really noticeable was the number of classical music events happening: during the time I was there the newly established (and self-run) Junior Chamber Orchestra gave two concerts, Mendelssohn’s Hymn of Praise was performed at the cathedral, and there was a concert called ‘The Opera Experience’, as well as the two concerts I gave. Violinist Ken Mwiti has, since my last visit to Nairobi, set up a flourishing musical booking agency, booking classical musicians for concerts as well as functions. Ken is studying music business as well as teaching violin, performing himself, and running his agency. I also heard word of plans for a new concert hall in Karen, a leafy area of Nairobi comparable to Richmond. I hope that however this hall is run will allow for budding musicians to perform more regularly in public, building their experience and their ambition for excellence.
It feels like a new era in the life of classical music in Kenya. A small number of Teddy’s generation, including his twin brother Lameck (viola), are currently embarking on musical studies in America, thanks to the support of sponsors in the States. A very eloquent and thoughtful friend of mine (Lemuel Agina, who was behind the camera for the documentary I made) told me it feels like Nairobi’s classical musicians have been working towards level 10 for a long time, and over the last year or two have had a real feeling of achievement and excitement at the way things are going – they’re finally at 10! But now it’s like starting again at 11, working towards 20… There is still, in some quarters, suspicion towards any kind of ‘instrumental music’ i.e. classical music, not surprisingly with some undertones of ‘colonial beef’, as Lemuel tactfully put it. There is certainly a lack of respect for classical performance – for example, the kind of quiet setting for a concert that we would take for granted in the UK – and familiar ideas of elitism. But Teddy for one is full of hope for the future and for what more he can learn this year, and next year, and the following year…
David, the violinist, has been following a hard path for many years now, with no support and little recognition. We performed together last month and his playing has deepened and matured to an extraordinary extent since I last played with him in 2021. However, even though the environment in Kenya is changing, he has felt frustrated by the lack of measurable progress, the lack of ‘give’ from the world he is trying to make his way in. He had been considering a move abroad to refresh his energies, which would be a real loss for Nairobi. But I was delighted to hear, when I spoke to him again last week, that a surprising number of concert opportunities have recently arisen (as well as a prestigious teaching position at an international school), and he is now feeling more hopeful about the viability of his performing career. Although it feels slow to those individuals making their way, he concedes that the public music scene is changing remarkably quickly. I feel confident that as the next serious young musicians like Teddy and David emerge, their paths will be that much smoother, and more encouraging – I am already excited about my next visit.
Teddy and Cordelia will be featured in a BBC Radio 4 documentary ‘How to Spot Potential’ every morning at 9.45am from 30 October.
Polish-Welsh-English pianist Cordelia Williams is recognised for the poetry, conviction and inner strength of her playing and the depth of her interpretations. She has performed all over the world, including concertos with the English Chamber Orchestra (in Mexico City), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (at Barbican Hall, London), as well as recitals at Wigmore Hall, Royal Festival Hall and Beijing Concert Hall. She broadcasts regularly for BBC Radio 3.
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Aïda Lahlou is an up-and-coming Moroccan pianist and one of the most exciting talents of her generation.
The Cross-Eyed Pianist 