Described by superstar pianist Lang Lang as ‘A genius…The new Bach’ during his performance on Channel 4’s popular and inspiring programme The Piano, Michael Howell is a young self-taught composer, singer and pianist from a working class Caribbean-Jamaican background in west London.
Praised for his other-worldly counter-tenor voice and his ability to touch audiences with his lyrical Latin-esque operatic language and Baroque-inspired piano accompaniment, Michael’s performance in London’s Victoria Station had the audience spellbound and secured him a place in the programme’s final, where he performed his own composition, ‘Great Is The Grief’.
‘Are you telling me he’s an amateur musician? This is incredible, this is not amateur….This is a pure talent. This is really something that’s very rare. It sounds like a new Bach is born from the middle of a train station in London.’ – Lang Lang
‘It’s gorgeous. That’s gorgeous!’ – Mika, singer-songwriter and co-judge of The Piano
‘Phenomenal’, ‘Sensational!’, ‘just incredible’ – audience/viewer comments via TwitterX
Find out more about Michael in this Meet the Artist interview:
Korean-born composer Unsuk Chin is one of the featured artists at this year’s Aldeburgh Festival, which is celebrating its 75th anniversary. Find out more about Unsuk Chin’s influences, working methods, and thoughts about classical music in general in this insightful, thoughtful interview:
Who or what are the most significant influences on your musical life and career as a composer?
The most formative influences are probably those from childhood when the senses react to everything around them in a more ‘holistic’, immediate approach. Then, there was the time of my studies: immersing myself in European avant-garde music in the early 80s was vital, as I had before that known ‘Western’ musical history only until Stravinsky’s Violin Concerto. Conversely, the experience of studying with Ligeti, who denounced the avant-garde, requested utterly original music of excellent craftsmanship from himself and his students, asking me to throw away my prize-winning works, was a pivotal moment. Indeed, moments of crisis and subsequent attempts to find a way out are essential moments and threshold experiences.
The excellent Danish poet Inger Christensen wrote that the major influences on her work were creative stumbling blocks, irritations that, in the long term, made her question and develop her approach. For me, such a moment was when I worked, in the late 80s, and after a writer’s block of almost three years, for a couple of years at a studio for electroacoustic music. Through this, I could re-evaluate the essential elements of my compositional approach and expand the basis of my music. Another significant experience was, in the 90s, longer stays in Bali, where I studied Gamelan music – the acquaintance of a different tradition of great refinement and quality deeply rooted in the society was a discovery.
What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far?
That was to realise my childhood dream of becoming a professional musician and fighting my way out of difficult circumstances – in the 1960s and 1970s, South Korea was a poor post-war country on the periphery, and it was not easy to start as a female Asian composer in Germany.
What are the special challenges and pleasures of working on a commissioned piece?
Without a commission or deadline, I would never compose a work. One needs much pressure from the external world to get through this crazy process. I don’t have any works in my drawer. Writing a new piece is a very demanding process and can take years. I wouldn’t go for it without external pressure and the adrenaline rush. At the same time, I would never accept a commission with conditions that don’t fit into the musical thoughts and goals I am working with during a specific period.
What are the special challenges and pleasures of working with particular musicians, singers, ensembles or orchestras?
I always choose very carefully which commissions I accept. One has to prioritise. It almost needs to be a compulsion: if I don’t have an idea what to write for a certain instrument or concept, I won’t do it. For example, I wrote my First Violin Concerto in 2001 and was convinced I would never write another one. But then, when there was a possibility to write for Leonidas Kavakos, I reconsidered, and the work, 20 years later, is very different from the first one.
Of which works are you most proud?
I move on and try to do something new with every piece. I have removed several earlier works from my work list as I am not content with them. As for the remaining ones, I accept them, but there are also pieces to which I feel more emotional distance than others – which is unsurprising when one revisits works from several decades ago. But I can also name a counterexample – my Piano Concerto, which is from 1995 but which wasn’t much performed before the Deutsche Grammophon recording two decades later. This is a work into which I put all the energy and frenzy of my then 34-year-old self – I wouldn’t compose in this manner any more, but I feel emotionally close to it.
How would you characterise your compositional language?
I prefer not to, as it may make it more difficult for the listener to approach the work without prejudices. Besides, when I compose a new work, the most important thing for me is its unique shape. Of course, as a composer, you have a particular craft; you prefer certain materials and draw on compositional techniques acquired through the years. You cannot and perhaps shouldn’t avoid that. Nonetheless, it is important for me to attempt each work to be singular in character. Pablo Picasso once expressed it this way: style holds the painter captive in the same point of view, in a technique, in a formula, but he always wants to make something that is new and unknown to himself.
How do you work?
With pen and paper. Composing is, above all, waiting — days, sometimes weeks, before the empty staves. And then, suddenly, a door opens in the head. With age and experience, one develops trust that this door opens at some point if one tries hard enough. The music is in my head. I sometimes jot down ideas, plan harmonies, etc., but for me personally, it is an abstract process without piano or other devices. It can take several years for thoughts and concepts to mature. And when the pressure is great enough, it’s like giving birth: the thoughts have to come out, then you write.
As a musician, what is your definition of success?
That I am fortunate to be performed by several excellent musicians.
What advice would you give to young or aspiring composers?
To think carefully if one really wants to have a life as a professional composer. It is usually a back-breaking and lonely job, and the financial prospects are often non-existent. If one really wants to do it, one should, but one should be aware what price it takes.
What do you feel needs to be done to grow classical music’s audiences?
This is not easy since, nowadays, there is a tendency to think more and more in purely economic and functional categories, on top of which you have to add the quickness of modern mass media. Besides, there exists a mistaken notion that classical music would be something ‘elitist,’ which is why the notion that society should support artforms that only a small minority will engage with has lost traction. All of this does not mean that things were better during other times. However, it is concerning and a scandal that music is often no longer even considered a minor subject in schools due to very obscure claims of competitiveness and economic success – claims often made, for example, by numerous politicians. It is wrong to withhold from children the experience of art, which is one of the things that distinguishes human beings from AI, not to mention that art often provides indispensable solace and a utopia. Anyway, there are also ‘late bloomers’, audiences that can be won over with creative ideas and new approaches even if they won’t have had previous exposure to classical music; after all, the experience of great music can be a deeply emotional one. The methods and approaches used to try to develop classical music’s audiences depend on the place and context. But the main thing, I believe, is trust. Trust in quality, the hard work of serious performers and composers, the slow progress of building audiences and overcoming obstacles, an almost aggressive defence of artists’ quality and hard work, the audience’s right to hear this music, and the need for financial support of the whole musical ecosystem.
What is the one thing in the music industry we’re not talking about but you think we should be?
I doubt that such a thing exists as ‘the music industry’ – fortunately, we live in a diverse world. At the same time, of course, certain tendencies exist, but these are intertwined with societal developments. Our times are obsessed with the speed of information, packaging, and the surface, which can be problematic for developing sustainable quality standards. Also, the future of classical music institutions in many places is endangered. That leads often to market-think and occasionally to a winner-takes-it-all mentality. At the same time, fortunately, there are many niches and different initiatives. It was much more polarised in the 50 years after the Second World War: there was the established conservative music world, and then there were the rebellious circles of both the avant-garde and the early-music revival, who not infrequently fractured into warring factions. But every time has its challenges.
What do you enjoy doing most?
Playing the piano. If I need a break during an intense compositional process, I might play fugues by Bach for hours. This helps me clear my mind and persevere.
On Wednesday 12th June Tenebrae give the first UK performance of Unsuk Chin’s Nulla est finis – a prelude to ‘Spem in alium’ in Ely Cathedral as part of this year’s Aldburgh Festival. Find out more about Unsuk Chin’s music at Aldeburgh Festival here
Who or what are the most significant influences on your musical life and career as a composer?
Rather than a particular person, I feel the greatest influence came from a breadth of musical experiences. In addition to playing in orchestras and performing solo piano, I performed in bluegrass, rock, and jazz bands, Balinese gamelan ensembles, West African drumming, Bowed Piano Ensembles, and live electronica performances. The biggest drive for me has always been curiosity, about music’s role in humanity and the connections to ourselves, our memories, and our emotions.
What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far?
As artists, we wear our hearts on our sleeves. When a song or piece of music comes together, it almost feels like a gift. In those moments, you can almost touch something bigger than ourselves, and that is an emotional experience, where words fail us, and music steps in. In this day and age, it is learning how to share that experience of music with others, and that means opening oneself up emotionally, and publicly, on the internet. Building a brand out of myself was the largest challenge that I’ve encountered so far!
What are the special challenges/pleasures of working on a commissioned piece
Most of my commissions are for film and tv music productions, which I enjoy because it allows me to move from one music genre or style to another, experiencing different stories and different perspectives (again, with the curiosity!). The challenge is navigating the larger team dynamic, especially in the entertainment industry. I had to learn how to create through the shared experiences and perspectives of my collaborators, which is a bit trickier than sitting in my studio writing music simply for myself.
What are the special challenges/pleasures of working with particular musicians, singers, ensembles or orchestras?
The greatest gift we have in music is the connection we can get through amazing humans performing. Every instrument on the globe has been meticulously recorded, sampled, and is available on my keyboard in my studio. Yet, working with a musician or ensemble who is a master of their craft is one of the joys of creating music. Whether it be coaching a school choir learning a choral piece, or hearing a film cue performed by the London Symphony Orchestra, the experience of connection though music is very meaningful.
Tell us more about your work with film composer Howard Shore.
I’ve worked with Howard Shore for 15 years, on over 25 films. I’ve worked as his right hand man (or Octopus man, as orchestrator Conrad Pope has called me) handling arranging, orchestration, and producing of his film scores. I started out within a technical capacity, and over the years was always quick to volunteer for more musical tasks. As we navigated the challenges of various film productions, Howard found me well equipped to handle the unique technical and musical requirements of assembling a film score. As part of my work with Howard, I’ve travelled to London, the Netherlands, France, Belgium, Montreal, and many other locations to record orchestras and produce music for films.
What are the special challenges and pleasures of working on film scores?
Working on film scores is incredibly labour and time intensive. It requires many hours sitting at a desk to create the 1000s of notes heard in a film score. Not only writing the music, but producing the demos, “conforming” the music to follow picture changes and edits, revising the music based on filmmaker feedback, and orchestrating, recording, editing, and mixing the music makes for a very busy work schedule. One of the great pleasures of working on film scores is amazing resources. While I had to run a Kickstarter campaign and obtain grants to raise the funding for my album of piano quintets, on big budget film scores I have a hundred piece orchestra and any other resources I need. Twelve bagpipes? A group of Didgeridoo players? No problem!
How has your work in film music influenced your new album ‘Everything More Than Anything’?
Working in film music for so long has given me a very strong skillset in how to produce very high quality music. I feel very at home in the recording studio working with musicians, and all that experience makes the writing, producing, and recording of my albums much easier. As all musicians have heard, the more you practice something, the better you are at it!
What do you hope listeners will take from this new album?
I hope listeners will appreciate just how impactful music can be when made with highly skilled musicians playing acoustic instruments. So much of music production these days happens in front a of a computer, and technology has allowed us to create music easily and professionally. But despite these technical advances, making music with other musicians in a room all together has a certain magic which cannot be replicated with technology.
Dark Before The Dawn – the first track from James Sizmore’s new album Everything More Than Anything, with pianist Stephen Gott
Of which works are you most proud?
All of my solo albums are dear to my heart, as they are closest to my artistic sensibility. I’ve got pieces of film music that have been heard by millions, but some of the songs I’ve written for my wife, my daughters, and my parents are the most meaningful to me. Even though they’ve only been heard by a handful of people!
How would you characterise your compositional language?
I pride myself on being a music chameleon for my film work, but my solo albums are rooted in the classical tradition, and certainly owe a debt to both the late French impressionists, Maurice Ravel and Claude Debussy, and also the 20th century minimalists Steve Reich, Philip Glass, and John Adams. Probably some film music influence in the harmonies as well!
How do you work?
I am regimented in my schedule, actively working in my studio from 9am-6pm (when I can, some productions require constant attention!). Keeping to a schedule helps me to be able to write music quickly, often writing a new piece in a single day.
As a musician, what is your definition of success?
When you’re able to do something you love doing for 33% of your time.
What advice would you give to young/aspiring composers?
Let the music be the most important thing. At first, you must set aside your career aspirations, music business approaches, social media branding, and really focus on the passion for music. While all of that other stuff is important, the only way one can sustain a career in music is if you really love it. Fall in love with music before you try to make it your career. I doubt anyone was ever successful by approaching music with the intention to make a lot of money. If you really love making music, everything else is secondary.
What do you feel needs to be done to grow classical music’s audiences?
Live film music performances have done great things for building interest in orchestral music. The Lord of The Rings is performed live every month, and the experience is a nice gateway to the orchestral classics. I recently attended the new David Geffen Hall in New York City, and the experience was outstanding. I applaud NYC for rebuilding the hall inside out and recognizing that the home of the NY Philharmonic is a cultural institution that they want to support wholeheartedly. I believe that strong arts initiatives, and bridging the gap between traditional classical music and popular culture are important for growing audiences.
What’s the one thing in the music industry we’re not talking about which you think we should be?
How is it that the terms breve, crotchet, quaver, and minim, never caught on in the USA? My music would be 10% more fun if we had the proper terminology when making it!
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Every moment (or at least most moments!) of our lives can contain perfect happiness by being present in the moment, and feeling gratitude and agency over this amazing life were given. We’re surrounded by beauty every day; one just needs to keep their eyes and hearts open to the world around them.
‘Everything More Than Anything’, James Sizemore’s new album created in collaboration with British-American pianist Stephen Gott, is being released track by track over the coming weeks. The second track is released on Friday 19 January.
Who or what are the most significant influences on your musical life and career as a composer?
I didn’t begin to compose until I was sixteen. At that time I had given up piano lessons (I learned the piano between seven and thirteen) and attended a school where there was no music teacher, so composing was something I had to teach myself, or rather with the collaboration of my younger brother Colin, who also began to compose shortly after me. What made me start to compose was hearing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony for the first time, and thinking that this was the most wonderful music I’d ever heard and that I must write a symphony of my own – so I did, and spent the next two years writing one, and when I’d finished, writing another. Beethoven is still my favourite composer, the ideal of everything I believe in. Meanwhile Mahler, all of whose works I’d got to know, became a huge influence, not just the music itself, but also what he stood for as a composer in Beethoven’s succession. Many other composers too were influential, Sibelius and Stravinsky pre-eminently, as I spent all my spare time listening to music and studying scores.
When I left university – where I read Classics as Music wasn’t possible as I hadn’t got music A level), I had the great good fortune to have got to know Deryck Cooke, who had made the performing version of Mahler’s Tenth Symphony and whom Colin and I later helped with a comprehensive revision. Deryck introduced me to a number of significant people in the musical world, among them Donald Mitchell, who had just founded Faber Music, mainly to publish Britten’s music. I began working freelance for Faber Music and quite soon Britten needed someone to help him with editorial work. Donald suggested me, and I then worked part time for Britten for four years. As the greatest living composer in this country, he was probably the most important influence in my life. He didn’t give composition lessons but I learned from him how to be a composer – see your later question, how do you work?
Other important influences were Michael Tippett, whom I also got to know and on whose music I wrote a short book – I liked his music even more than I liked Britten’s; Nicholas Maw, who became a friend and an unofficial teacher – I thought him the best of the younger composers; and the Australian composer Peter Sculthorpe, whom I met in England in 1974 and who became a close friend until his death in 2014. I visited many him many times in Australia and we collaborated on three film scores. Peter said that the music of the whole world was tonal, so why we should we pay attention to a few central European composers who said tonality was no longer possible? From Australia I saw music in a new light.
What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far?
The greatest challenge was getting my music played when I was young. As I hadn’t been to a music college I knew virtually no musicians. But I did send the score of a string quartet to the BBC when I was about 23 – they then had a reading panel – and it was played and broadcast; and when I was 26 I sent two orchestral songs to the Society for the Promotion of New Music (which sadly no longer exists) and they were performed at the Royal Festival Hall by Jane Manning with the London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Norman Del Mar (who became a friend and who commissioned my Symphony No.1 – I’d withdrawn my three earlier ones). That was a big step forward. However, I didn’t get a full publishing contract from Faber until 1982.
What are the special challenges/pleasures of working on a commissioned piece?
It’s easier, I find, to write a piece if you are given some limitations – i.e. how long it should be, the instrumentation, etc. I wouldn’t want too precise instructions, but that rarely happens.
What are the special challenges/pleasures of working with particular musicians, singers, ensembles or orchestras?
I much prefer writing for musicians I know (as Britten almost always did). I recently wrote an Oboe Sonata for Nicholas Daniel, someone I know well and for whom I wrote a Concerto. He has a very individual sound, a wonderful ability to play long sustained passages without taking breath, and extraordinary virtuosity. It was a real pleasure writing for him and hearing his special sound in my head.
The same with singers, of course, and with string players. I’ve written two CDs worth of solo violin music for my violinist friend Peter Sheppard Skaerved, and his Kreutzer Quartet are recording all fifteen (so far) of my string quartets, of which five were written especially for them. They know exactly what to do with my music as they’ve played so much of it. I’m not a string player but Peter has taught me so much about string technique. And with orchestras, I have a special relationship with the BBC Philharmonic, for whom I’ve written three of the last four of my ten symphonies. I can write for them knowing just how they will sound, and I’m also careful not to write anything that they won’t enjoy playing.
Of which works are you most proud?
I enjoy listening to my own music – well, if the composer doesn’t like his own music he shouldn’t expect anyone else to! There are quite a few pieces I’m proud of; for instance among my symphonies, No.8, several of my string quartets; also my Cello Concerto, Concerto in Azzurro, written for Steven Isserlis and recorded on CD by Guy Johnston. The piece I’m most proud of is my choral and orchestral piece Vespers, of which there is a splendid recording by the Bach Choir and the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra conducted by David Hill. And in the last two years I’ve composed my first opera, which hasn’t yet had a stage performance, only a run-through with piano, but I hope I’ll be proud of it if and when I hear it with orchestra.
How would you characterise your compositional language?
It’s tonal, though usually not in a traditional way. I use very wide-ranging harmony. I use counterpoint modelled on the way the great masters of the past used it, and above all I try to write memorable melodies. I think the loss of memorable melody in most contemporary music is very sad.
How do you work?
When I’m composing, I like to work every day from after breakfast until lunch. I may go back for a while in the late afternoon. I learned regular hours from Britten. But I’m always thinking about the piece I’m writing, and I quite often wake up at night with ideas.
I try to start a piece well in advance of the deadline (another thing I learned from Britten: always meet deadlines). I think a lot about what character the piece will have, and its shape, and then I have the first musical idea, generally a melodic idea, and after that I may leave the piece to grow inside my head for some while before I start it properly. Once I’ve started, I don’t often get stuck – just for a day or two perhaps. I revise a lot while I’m writing, and don’t usually write more than ten to twenty bars a day, though sometimes more when I’ve almost reached the end.
As a musician, what is your definition of success?
My music is concerned with my feelings about life, expressed to the best of my ability in melody, harmony and counterpoint, and in a form that I hope conveys what I intended. I’m happy if I think I’ve done my best with these aims. I also hope that the musicians, who work so hard to bring my pieces to life, will enjoy playing what I have written.
What advice would you give to young/aspiring composers?
Don’t write pieces that present impossible difficulties to players. Also, be patient, it may take a long time before you can get your pieces played regularly. And find your own voice, don’t get led astray by fashion.
What do you feel needs to be done to grow classical music’s audiences?
Of course it worries me that a lot of people who are brought up on a constant diet of pop music find classical music difficult, and especially modern classical music. Because of this, audiences for contemporary music are almost always small. It’s this that worries me most: I feel that a lot of new music today supplies very little to move audiences, if it’s written in a virtually incomprehensible language, and often a very aggressive, off-putting one. And then, except (rightly) for the Kanneh-Mason family, none of the brilliant young musicians around now are being praised by the mass media, which now largely ignores classical music. Their extraordinary talent should be widely celebrated.
What’s the one thing in the music industry we’re not talking about but you really think we should be?
I’m worried that decisions about what new music to programme, by the BBC for instance, are no longer based purely on quality, which I think they should, but on other criteria. I’m very happy to hear music by women composers, but it must be good music. To play it just because it’s by a woman is in fact insulting.
What next – where would you like to be in 10 years?
Still alive – as long as I can keep my current good health, and still composing reasonably well, if I’m still able to.
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Sharing a meal at home with my wife.
What do you enjoy doing most?
Apart from composing: reading, drinking good wine, walking in the countryside, and watching and listening to birds.
With a singular body of work spanning almost 60 years, David Matthews has established an international reputation as one of the leading symphonists of our time. Born in London in 1943, he began composing at the age of sixteen. He read Classics at the University of Nottingham – where he has more recently been made an Honorary Doctor of Music – and afterwards studied composition privately with Anthony Milner. He was also helped by the advice and encouragement of Nicholas Maw and spent three years as an assistant to Benjamin Britten in the late 1960s. In the 1970s a friendship with the Australian composer Peter Sculthorpe (leading to collaboration and numerous trips to Sydney) helped Matthews find his own distinctive voice.
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