Essays
Mahon's Clock
...and the years, the years
Fly past anti-clockwise
Like clock hands in a bar mirror.
(from Dream Days - Derek Mahon)
This year, the launch of the latest Mostly Modern Series turned out to be, in effect, a catalyst for a lengthy review of my own time running the event. I had decided that we should open the Series with a birthday celebration of one of Ireland's most senior composers, James Wilson. Reaching eighty years of age is, singularly, a fine achievement I myself would wish to attain (only, I might add, if I am compus mentis and not dribbling uncontrollably. To do so as an Irish composer without having starved to death deserves at least a tribute concert if only to spur the rest of us on. By a happy coincidence, John Buckley, a one-time student of Wilson's and now one of Ireland's leading scribblers of dots, was celebrating his fiftieth, so the event became a joint celebration. This was a nice idea for a concert and a good start to a new Mostly Modern Series which I suddenly realised, with growing astonishment, was reaching its own first major anniversary - the tenth. So a triple celebration it was to be.
For someone who actively nurtures juvenile behaviour and remembers his thirteenth birthday like it was yesterday, the realisation that I had been running Mostly Modern for ten years hit me 'like a tonne of bricks' as the Christian Brother used to say (and do). Ten years is a long time; a complete decade has passed, a whole new generation has emerged, but Mahon's clock makes it feel more like a year or two. It is at moments like this that you can no longer deny that you are part of an endlessly unfolding process - la espiral eterna. But each year it spins faster.
In order to do some research for a little speech at the opening of the Series I went back to my files to see just what we had presented over those ten years. It is impossible to get a completely accurate picture of this as the programme brochures for the first four seasons are missing from my records. Some of the gaps are filled by extant reviews and some by my own memory (which, despite my ageing years, still seems to work because I recall clearly that we presented in our first ever series an all-Buckley concert at the John Field Room). The figures I have come up with, which must be considered conservative, are quite impressive. Over a ten year period the Mostly Modern Series and Festival has presented eighty-five Irish works featuring twenty-five composers. Of these Irish works, twenty-five were world premières. Of all works presented (I have no idea how many) seventy-six were Irish premières. There were three world premières of important large-scale works by international composers. I don't think that I am being biased when I suggest that these figures imply that the Mostly Modern platform has been the most significant one for contemporary Irish music throughout the 90's.
The title 'Mostly Modern' seems so inappropriate to the event now presented. It was, of course, perfect for the initial idea we formed in 1991. I say we, because the Mostly Modern Series was devised by the pianist Neil Cooney and I when we were still students. We saw an advertisement in the Irish Times for applications for a grant from the Irish Music Rights Organisation for the presentation of events that would feature Irish composers. For me, as a guitarist, this was an idea that would fall neatly into my performance practice and repertoire which already included a number of new works by Irish composers most of which were written for me. I was quite surprised by Neil's enthusiasm, but the idea of mixing contemporary Irish music with more traditional repertoire seemed a good idea, specifically at the time, when very little contemporary music was performed in Ireland in any case.
To my lasting amusement it was, in fact, Neil's mother, Patricia, who came up with the title 'Mostly Modern'. Yes, it had a ring to it and summed up perfectly (as it no longer does) the ethos of the event. It was also, to its credit, 'of the times'. I subsequently came across festivals in London and New York which all seemed to require as a prerequisite a title that had some use of alliteration in its make-up. These ranged from the similarly coined 'Mostly Mozart' to the pathetically awkward and hilarious 'Basically Beethoven'. Perhaps it is time for a change!
So Mostly Modern started with very humble beginnings, namely, a £1,500 grant from IMRO. It was, essentially, the results of the innovative and entrepreneurial efforts of two young performing musicians to 'get some gigs'. There was, from the beginning, a difference in attitude between Neil and I towards the programming. As a guitarist, I had no access to Beethoven, Chopin, Rachmaninoff and the likes. Sure, I had Guiliani and Sor (who? you might say) but my growing appreciation and understanding of music relegated these salon guitar composers to the category of 'inspired third-raters'. I had already considered Britten's Nocturnal Op. 70 to be the masterpiece of the repertoire and felt that the only chance I might have to play better music was to search through the new works being written. (I have subsequently accessed Schubert through my work with the tenor John Elwes and have been enriched by my study and performance of the complete Die Schöne Müllerin among other works). In this context, Mostly Modern was to prove a very nurturing vehicle for my search for and understanding of new music.
For Neil the circumstances were completely different. Like me, his main motivation for creating Mostly Modern was to provide performance possibilities for himself. He did not, however, have any particular desire to become an expert in the performance of Irish contemporary music. And who could blame him when he had access to such wonderful music of the past from Bach to Messiaen. In fact, Messiaen was the only 'contemporary' (?) composer Neil was enthusiastic about. We used to laugh at how our chosen programmes differed. Mine included big twentieth century works like Britten's Nocturnal, Buckley's Sonata for Guitar, Henze's Memorias de El Cimaron, Reich's Electric Counterpoint (the latter three would be given their Irish premières!) surrounded by a few Spanish pieces or some Bach, while Neil's programmes allowed for a number of new (short) Irish pieces to act as fillers between a Beethoven Sonata and Schumann's Fantasie in C major! One of the more humorous events took place when Neil had agreed to programme Jerome de Bromhead's Three Fresh Pieces for piano. In the end, Neil only performed two of the advertised three without announcement (he didn't like to speak before playing). De Bromhead took it well and later in the pub offered to bye him two thirds of a pint!
After three years, Neil, who was now living in London and studying intensely with Maria Curcio-Diamond, decided that Mostly Modern really wasn't his bag and quite selflessly handed the entire operation over to me. I say entire operation but Mostly Modern was still struggling with an overdraft (following over-zealous bookings of the chapel at the Royal Hospital Kilmainham) and very little support from the Arts Council. I decided to continue running the event and there followed two or three years of utter frustration and an endless series of mistakes in relation to almost every aspect of the business. This reached its pinnacle when I had a series at the Pepper Canister Church. I was organising everything - the programming, the printing, the insurance, the booking, the press, the advertisements, the banks, the proof-reading, the lot. I remember when I was preparing for my own concert at the church I had to bring in the flowers, take out the platform from the store in pieces and build it, set up the flowers, organise the programmes, turn on the heating and, just in time, wash my hands, change into new clothes and perform. This was the height of madness. Ken Edge's friendship at this time, mostly expressed in the act of providing relief in the form of Guinness, was probably a preventative to a nervous breakdown.
Speaking of Ken Edge reminds me of another concert during that difficult series at the Pepper Canister. He had formed the Irish Reed Quartet and I had agreed to feature it. During the interval the oboist, Matthew Manning, got a cleaning rag stuck in the bore of his instrument. We were all struggling and taking turns trying to extract the offending rag. Time was running out and another oboist friend, Tom Burke, agreed to drive home at top speed to get his oboe. The interval time meanwhile had elapsed and I pushed Ken out to 'play something, anything you can remember'. Ken, ever obliging, went out and informed the audience that there was a 'change of programme'. I think he played three pieces by the Japanese composer Ryo Noda. Backstage we were frantic trying to pull the rag out of the instrument; I was ranting and poor Mathew was now in a deep sweat. Ken came backstage and I promptly turned him on his heels to go out again and keep the show going. I knew things were really getting bad when I heard Pagannini's Caprice No. 24 on saxophone echoing around the church walls. It was no good. We couldn't extract the rag and it was really beginning to look like we would have to cancel the rest of the concert - a prospect which, I think any promoter would agree, I considered horrific and embarrassing. I knew I had lost when Ken broke out into Summertime! When he finished I walked out to talk to the completely bemused audience and informed them of our predicament. I thanked them for their patience and offered to give them all their money back. It was nice that they responded collectively with a rejection of that idea. I thanked them again for coming and wished them a good night. They all started to rise and were moving towards the door at the rear of the church when, just then, Tom Burke arrived in with an oboe in his raised hand shouting 'don't leave, we have an oboe'! I'll never forget it. The audience laughed and returned to their seats and the Irish Reed Quartet continued with the concert (Matthew most bravely, as the borrowed oboe was of the German type which had a different key mechanism to his French model and presented him with an unfamiliar fingering pattern, but he adapted brilliantly). We had completely gained the sympathy of the audience and the concert was a great success.
I look back on this occasion now with amusement and affection but it nearly drove me up the wall. One wonders why one perseveres. However, from this time onwards, things improved. I managed to persuade Barry O'Kelly of the Bank of Ireland to 'house' the Mostly Modern Series at the new Bank of Ireland Arts Centre, which had not long opened. This was the beginning of the real development of the Mostly Modern Series. Following support from the Bank of Ireland the Arts Council decided to look again at the state of funding for the performance of Irish music (I must cite John Buckley as a strong support at this time). The following year the Arts Council responded with the first grant that came close to representing reasonable support. Since then, the Mostly Modern Series and Festival has been going from strength to strength and, despite its rather audience-friendly title, has been very much at the cutting edge of new Irish and international music. I remember with glee, one audience member, on hearing a performance by Herb Robertson (playing two trumpets simultaneously!), storming out of the Arts Centre shouting that he was going to change his account to another bank if this is what the Bank of Ireland was supporting. I admire this man who felt strongly enough about music to make a verbal objection. I also admire the Bank of Ireland for continuing to support the least accessible and sellable of arts in Ireland.
I must also mention that things also started going in the right direction when Brian Farrell came on board. It was, in retrospect, a risky decision to take him on as Brian had absolutely no experience in the area of arts administration. However, previous to this, a girl friend was 'helping out' and if ever there was truth in my father's constantly pronounced mantra that 'you can't mix business with pleasure' this was it. Brian had no experience but there was one thing I remember saying to myself he did have - that was integrity and honesty. He has subsequently become a highly skilled administrator, an absolutely essential part of the team and has worked tirelessly and professionally to make the Mostly Modern machine work as efficiently as it does.
Having found a home for the series at the Bank of Ireland Arts Centre (previously Mostly Modern shifted from venue to venue) and having secured more realistic funding from the Arts Council I was now in a position to develop the series into a more focussed event. It was at this time that I shifted the programming away from a mostly modern mixture of new and old to one which concentrated on twentieth century (largely post 1950) and contemporary work; from a performer-based programming towards a composer-inspired format. These days I try not to be too clever with programmes but I do think that it is important that a concert has some shape to it, that it is of good quality and that it challenges. Each year I try to present various styles and to include some examples of electro-acoustic and improvised music. I am always encouraged, despite the poor tradition of music education in this country, with the level of openness of Irish audiences. I have never tried to use the series to promote any one style of music exclusively and I can say that I have programmed composers whose music I don't like personally but which I felt was important to be heard. I like to think that Mostly Modern is a non-partisan, democratically programmed event. Our free entry policy is very important in this respect.
It has been a fascinating ten years. I have no doubt that, in time, this period of Mostly Modern presentations will be recognised as having been a major force in contemporary Irish music. I also think that Mostly Modern helped highlight the financial neglect that the performance of contemporary Irish music was experiencing throughout the early and middle nineties. The Arts Council had admitted a 'blind spot' in relation to this area that I think Mostly Modern helped diagnose. Since then the situation has improved immensely but there is no doubt that there is still room for improvement.
Many regular attendants to the Mostly Modern Series will have their favourite concerts. My own highlights include a post-concert live interview I hosted with the American composer George Crumb, a spine-chilling concert by pianist Rolf Hind, particularly his performance of Xenakis's Evryali, matched only by Barry Guy's equally exhilarating performance of Xenakis's Theraps. Other highlights for me include the Irish Chamber Orchestra's performance of Lutoslawky's Preludes and Fugue, (on a more personal level) VOX21's première of my own Scenes from Crow, and the world première of Barry Guy's Inscape-Tableaux given by the Barry Guy New Orchestra - an extraordinary night. As I write this many other memorable concerts come to mind.
If I had to give one reason why I have continued with the Mostly Modern Series over the years, despite all the difficulties it presented and continues to present, I would say that it allows one to feel more like an active musician. Naturally I enjoy performing any and all types of music as much as I do composing. There is, however, a tremendous pleasure in making the music event happen; to be responsible for the creation of new music, to be part curator, in some small way, of the unfolding collection of new work by a variegated and talented group of Irish composers. I have always felt that the final act of composition is realised only in the performance. Perhaps this view can be extended by concluding that the final act of composition is realised only when the performed work is heard. Making the opportunity for that necessary triumvirate - the composer, the performer and the listener - to interact, creating the space within which this unique and unrepeatable occurrence is transmitted and experienced is extremely rewarding.
In light (or perhaps I should say shadow) of the extremely poor music education we have all been, and continue to be, subjected to in Ireland, the contemporary music 'event' takes on an even great significance. It becomes more than just an entertaining experience. It is also, whether intended or not, an educational happening. In relation to new Irish music this has important ramifications. Those countless concerts presented by Mostly Modern over the years have, by virtue of the specifics of the Irish musical environment, functioned as unique connectors for audiences to current artistic endeavours; they have helped provide context and understanding for those curious enough to make a connection to Irish art music.
This is significant. There seems to be a more natural connection, a two-way interaction between Irish people and other forms of indigenous artistic expression. Our literary tradition has been well absorbed and the areas of painting and sculpture are enjoying a fuller relationship with the public as is evidenced by the rising awareness of Irish artists here and abroad. For numerous historical reasons (political, social, educational etc.) Irish art music has been stultified and undernourished. This makes the contemporary music event more pertinent, of more consequence to the listener. Apart from the fact that it provides a more rare interaction than those with literature and visual arts, it could also be said to offer the conditions whereby contemporary Irish musical expression finds a function within a society close to that traditional Irish music had (and continues to have) in localised regions throughout the country. The heard contemporary Irish music event is also the moment when the contemporary Irish composer finds a social function.
What that function is exactly is a subject which requires vast exploration. I would offer, as an initial suggestion, that it provides some template for all the boundless impulses of non-verbal expression that we experience every moment of our working consciousness. There is an immense breath of experience and thinking which hovers just below the uttered expression. Music finds resonance here. To what extent contemporary Irish music parallels this area of experiential non- verbal thought in Irish people; to what level it represents or correlates to an innate Irish thought process is, I think, impossible to tell. In an area which is ultimately the arena of metaphor exact answers ring hollow, so I can only suggest that at some level, the contemporary Irish musical expression finds an important resonance within Irish consciousness and remains significant to it.
Contemporary Irish music today, is in many ways, rather unique, not just to Irish culture, but also to European culture. Apart from a few exceptions, the majority of Irish work has not developed from a traditional 'folk' basis (O'Riada's reputation in this regard has been blown out of proportion). We have also not been overtly affected by the major European trends. I don't cite this as a matter of ignorant defiance but merely as a matter of fact which may or may not be helpful but is, like it or not, influential in the development of a number of rather disparate and original musical personalities which have emanated from this country. The result is unique, mixed in quality, unpredictable and very diverse. It is also, as an Irish artistic medium, relatively new, and for me to be an instigator in the development and growth of this largely undiscovered cultural resource is very exciting. I hope I can continue to play a part.
Benjamin Dwyer
Dublin
November 2002