Meld is the second piece I have written for the Albert Hall, and it is hard to imagine that it could be performed anywhere else. All its levels, boxes and corridors formed an integral part of the composition. Over the years I have composed many pieces where the building in which the performance takes place takes on a role equal to that of the musicians.
At the Albert Hall for Meld’s 2014 premiere, each of the 144 musicians was placed throughout the building with precise maps and instructions: at any one moment, one could say exactly where each was to be found. The musicians also play while moving: some do carefully choreographed dances. But this is not a crazy happening for the sake of it. Everything is very precisely organised and notated to the millisecond.
During its 40-odd minutes, the piece proceeds through sections that complement each other, and build only on the experience of the previous ones. This takes a certain time, and the position and content of the sections is crucial. The overall shape is very important and the piece takes an unexpected turn half way through.
My inspiration for this approach comes from a deep fascination with film, and montage - especially the editing of sequences of less important shots and the many ways that these can build into something more significant.
In my music I am fascinated by how the logic and order of different elements is crucial to how the expression, tension and argument comes over. As in a film, every cut is a turning point - though as a viewer or listener, one hardly notices these corners. I felt the same way about the composition of Meld, and how a potential re-ordering of sections or elements would collapse the tension.
Certainly this became very apparent during the editing work that Isabelle Dedieu undertook so painstakingly in these last weeks to create the film. It was very significant how this film was put together. I was lucky to have an experienced editor - Dedieu worked wonders with the material. Good editing continually keeps up the interest, while balancing, navigating and refining the options available. The film is now the ‘product’. My work was just the acoustic version in the concert hall.
The seated audience see and hear the performance from only one vantage point, though all delegated audience seats are equally valid and privileged. While all remained audible, not everything was visible.
Dedieu was actually in the audience at the Prom, but frequently found things in the filmed material that she could not notice at the live performance, and which through her shot selection and editing clarified her understanding of the piece as a spectator. While I knew my piece too well to be an impartial observer, her edit has made the musical narrative logical for the first-time listener.
Film is pliable and can emphasise the shape intended in the music, and the mood. I found the counterpoint between the rhythm of musical elements vis à vis the “silent” rhythm of changes of shot fascinating.
The film has also become a private view showing the extraordinary musicians of the Aurora Orchestra - who give and show more than just playing their instrument - intimately. With the editing, they became characters and personalities. In the film there is now an added sense of celebration: the music is not meant to be ritualised in any way.
The filmed material we had available was gathered at the performance - there were no chances to retake, and not every musician was filmed.
Wonderful as it is to have the film available streamed on the internet, I was very keen on the Aldeburgh festival’s live cinema screening with good sound, because it’s the next best thing to being in the concert. And possibly - dare I say it - in some ways better than being in the concert hall because you participate in what the musicians are doing.
