Entrevista a António de Sousa Dias / Interview with António de Sousa Dias
2004/Jul/26
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Basically, I think my career has two parts which have happened in
parallel. In one part, I began my musical studies reasonably early, and my
education was decisively influenced by my piano teacher, Albertina Saguer, who,
at a certain point, when I was about 14 or 15, realized that I, rather than
wanting to play piano, really wanted to composer, or at least I couldn’t sit
still without writing some notes, and she began to encourage me, by increasing
the amount of repertoire we studied, not thinking in pianistic terms – of
playing outstandingly well or with a certain degree of excellence – but of
attaining the widest possible range of musical knowledge, and, curiously, by
another means, inviting me whenever possible to play my own pieces. My pieces,
my youthful output, so to speak – in order for me to get used, as a composer,
to collaborate with performers and dissociate clearly what I heard in my head
from that which was in fact in the score and was being played at that moment.
So in this sense, she was a very important figure in my development.
Another complementary element in my development, and which would be very
important musically – when I was entering into musical territory, as it were,
professionally – was the relationship I have with film. My father is a film
producer, and that meant that I saw in some way filming from an early age,
being present at editing, or dubbing sessions, or watching how they made the
noises of the room or the special effects, and so this kind of situation is
also an important part of my creative imagination.
In addition, my father was very interested, already at the time – in the
1960s – in musique concrète, electronic music, which meant that I, from
when I was a child, perhaps knew Stockhausen’s Gesang der Junglinge better than
Beethoven’s sonatas (I only came across them later as a young pianist). These
two kinds of education went more or less in parallel, almost sealed off from
each other, because with more or less classical training, there’s no
electroacoustic element, for example. In any case, later on they came together
at a certain point, which was when I gave up technical training – engineering
in information technology (at the time electronics and communications) – and
chose to go to the Conservatory, to do the higher course in composition. Thus,
somebody who became very important, because she allowed the confluence of these
two areas, was Constança Capdeville.
I’ve had some very influential figures during the course of my
development – though I usually joke and say that I’m like that comedian, Herman
José’s character Serafim Saudade - "I’m a cooperative”. And I am indeed
the result of a cooperative to which there contributed several people who were
of the greatest importance for my development. If I don’t always mention them
all, it’s more on account of being frightened of forgetting somebody than
deliberate omission. In any event, it was Constança who enabled the confluence
of these two areas.
And, from early on, I also began to write music for film, documentary
and television. This was, in a way, in parallel with my musical education.
Now that we’ve arrived at the 21st century, once again I’m
going to have a kind of confluence of two rivers that were parallel – music for
cinema, in a way, and then instrumental music, electroacoustic. Why are they
two almost completely distinct routes for most people? Because those who know
my work for cinema don’t usually know my instrumental music well, and
vice-versa – those who know more or less what I did for some Portuguese groups
don’t very often know what I’ve done in film. Nevertheless, I think that all
this together with my technological training – I never quite acknowledged
giving this up, in part because the change of career was so abrupt – they’re
all going to come together in this last section of my trajectory, so to speak.
Influence
of cinematic concepts and techniques in musical composition
In film, one of the big things is the editing, at least in some narrative
film (or even non-narrative if we think of Dziga Vertov – The cameraman). So
editing is like a primordial element, which we also find in electronic music –
the sort of process that, though related to the idea of mosaic, in spite of
everything goes beyond it in the kinds of elements that it can put into play.
Another significant point was the question of the actual use of sound in
film. It produced within me a kind of awareness of sound in that, very quickly,
one learns in film that cause and effect are not necessarily related. I mean,
we can place a sound in somebody or something, but not necessarily a sound
originating from that source., but which is a sound that a viewer will
associate as being from that source. So straight away there is a problem, which
is having – as regards the sound itself – an attitude to develop. Something
like what Schaeffer would call reduced listening, that is, hearing the sound in
itself, independent of its cause, precisely to be on our guard, or at least to
be able to apply it to other causes, and it becomes plausible. In fact, in the
case of film, it’s not a question of making it more real, but more plausible.
This is what film deals with, criteria of plausibility. This whole element was
very important for my development. It’s interesting in relation to Constança –
I don’t think it’s by chance that my copy of Schaeffer’s Traité des Objects
Sonores has a dedication from Constança. She gave it to me on my birthday, and
said at the time “This book may become very important for you!” – which was
indeed the case. And it’s still true! So this was Constança’s approach, and
also Peixinho – you can see that, even though he didn’t write specifically
electroacoustic music, there’s something much more important, I think, which is
reflecting on sound, which occurs in his scores – and also Candido Lima, who
did much more with electroacoustic music. But therefore there’s a whole area
there, and I think that I had, in a way – I like to say this openly – an area
of influence from these composers related to the sound itself, which also comes
from the cinema.
In any case, there are also other things in relation to certain kinds of
musical discourse – I don’t like using then term much; I confess that I have
some doubts as to the idea of musical language and other terminology of the
kind which at the moment doesn’t interest me much because it’s not even part of
my musical terminology, and which is something we could come back to later:
“How do I regard my musical output” – but as far as that is concerned, whether
it’s cinema or electroacoustic music, they were deciding factors in the way in
which I manipulated even musical material – apart from sound materials – even
in purely instrumental music.
Instrumental writing and electroacoustic writing: the same reality
In my musical writing, at the moment, I make no distinction between what
is written and other kinds of process. In other words, I integrated the same
means – in this case digital means – in the same way, with the same weight, the
conception of a filter and the development of the technique of extrapolation of
notes. Therefore, I think that, from the point at which there’s a new medium,
there probably appear new ways of making music. That’s symptomatic, when
there’s a new paper-based music, in which a new musical notation appears. We
see, for the first time in the history of music, the existence of musical
techniques which develop, and even a certain liberty of large forms which were
not possible, shall we say, memorizable or even memorized or learned by heart.
At present, with a medium in which, for the first time, we have again a
pre-Gutenberg situation, in that in the same medium we once more have
everything – just as with manuscript illuminations, in which the drawing, text,
graphics and conception of the page coexisted in the same medium, and which the
Gutenberg revolution, shall we say, separated. Now, we have once again the same
medium which brings together, indifferently, all kinds of different
expressions. I believe that this is of fundamental importance in musical
writing. For example, currently it often doesn’t make sense to speak of a kind
of technology, technological musical technique or sound treatment, as something
distinct from the writing of music in the traditional sense, writing notes. I
think that today the composer, when dealing with these different media, treats
them all in the same way, it’s integrated.
Today, as regards certain aspects of my own instrumental writing,
obviously I owe a great deal to the electroacoustic approach and knowledge of
sound. Which means that there are certain techniques of writing apparently
merely musical – musical in the sense of notes, so, it’s that abstract entity,
the note – whose positioning owes much to electroacoustic music. in addition, a
certain kind of treatment – the use, for example, of resonating filters, the
use of some morphing procedures, certain partial aspects of particular
morphings, or a whole different kind of use of the idea of echo – of
convulsion, so to say, has to do with the imposition of certain aspects of
instrumental writing on electroacoustic means.
What I mean is that, even in my purely instrumental works, even in
purely electroacoustic works, I think that you can no longer distinguish very
much between them except in their concrete manifestation. In other words,
there’s a work there that though there are no instruments visible, probably
follows many aspects of instrumental music. Instrumental works that, without me
having knowledge of other practices, would be impossible
Musical materials
With my musical materials, when I integrate them into a work, there are
some concerns with the actual sound. The sound itself determines, sometimes,
one or more operation, a merely symbolic manipulation. In addition, I myself have
developed some techniques and technologies, based on the work of others, of
course, so that even in materials apparently non subject to symbolic operations
– I don’t much like using the term, but to make it more understandable,
concrete kinds of material, so to speak, a kind of spectrality or with a
spectral texture closer to chords or aggregates or notes – there may be found
notes, which form bridges, or catwalks, between these kinds of worlds. This
also implies a certain revolution in the writing itself.
I had to revise my own conception of musical writing and techniques of
musical writing. I have to say that one of my first attempts – when I was in my
twenties ... what enthused my in a certain area of composition was, I must say,
given a good part of my musical education, all the kinds of symbolic operations
and manipulations that came after Xenakis. Xenakis is much talked-about with
regardt to statistics, but there’s much more than that. Not only symbolic
operations, but logical operations, a whole set of operations and conceptions
that come, one can say, from a more mathematical universe. This was my first
thought when I came to certain problems of musical composition. Curiously,
through Schaeffer, and even more, through the Musical Research Group, the GRM,
I was confronted with the problem of sound in itself, which it is not so easily
symbolized, and where a symbolization of the sound may become extremely
arrogant. This was perhaps my first big shock that, through Constança,
Peixinho, Cândido Lima, as well as other, foreign composers, I approached
gradually, and realigned my whole position. So it was a kind of long sudden
fall, in which I lost all possible and imaginable crutches, until I became so
suspicious of writing that I had almost to reinvent it for my purposes, so that
I didn’t fall into the temptation of the arrogant regulation of the sonic fact.
Especially when, from the 1980s onwards, we had here one of the great
revolutions – that had already begun in the 1960s, of course – in electroacoustic
music, by means of the development of computers in music, and an increased
access to sound. Just the expansion of that parameter – timbre, which stopped
being a parameter and became an incredible network of dimensions that had
already been foreseen by Scheoneberg, in the last paragraph of his treatise on
harmony. He already points out the idea that he finds suspect, which is that
pitch is one of the dimensions of timbre – in fact, it ‘s very interesting,
this paragraph, because, in fact, 70 years later it made perfect sense and
would be demonstrated. And so, this whole crossing of concepts, of ideas, of
approaches, would become influential, obviously, in my own musical writing. In
other words, I always recommend that one not look at the notes that are written,
but that one try to see what the sound is that comes from it, because the
operation is not made in this dimension of the act of musical writing – which
is something merely prescriptive, so that the musician can play – but in the
act of listening. It is, therefore, more centred on listening than on the act
of writing in itself.
Meeting with Constança Capdeville
It’s strange, because I find indications, symptoms of this attitude in
some of my things for film before even meeting Constança. What pleases me is
that our meeting was not as fortuitous as all that, but came about through
necessity... In other words, there was something I was already searching for in
musical writing, and it was with her that I was able to develop this. I think
that in this sense, I may have managed, as far as I could, to catch, as it
were, her thoughts. Moreover, she used to say, rather curiously, that we had
more or less the same objective, but with different means. I had more to do
with cinema, she with theatre. I had more to do, for example, with technology
and technological issues, computers, sound synthesis and so on, and she had
more to do with dance. Both always very much connected with music, in a
particularly sensual way, I think. Sensual in the physical sense. I don’t think
it was by chance that she did something dedicated to dance, to the Waltz, in
which she included a waltz of mine from another film. It was also no accident
that I did a piece dedicated to Constança, five years after she died, which is
actually a waltz called Komm, tanz mit mir!, which is a phrase of Pina
Bausch’s, used in Constança’s pieces, and which is in fact a dedication to her,
because you can also read it Constance mit mir.
Work with Constança Capdeville
I think I'm very lucky – as well as other people who worked with Constança – the situation I have is a little strange, because in reality (and excepting later on Sérgio Azevedo at the Escola Superior de Música), I was the only composer who studied all the way through with Constança. I didn't even know about this, until I left the Conservatory. That is, I think I was the only pupil of Constança's that she made a point of working with until the end. During the composition course I had another teacher – Christopher Bochmann – but the course revolved, until the end, around Constança.
Constança had proposed, from my first harmony classes with her, that I go and work with her, though to do that I had to have finished the course. In fact, one or two years before finishing the course, she began to call me to work on her pieces, with Colecviva, and, later, to become a member of the group, in the last year of the course, when I also began to teach at the Conservatory. I think that, at the time, it was quite unusual for a finalist to be teaching already at the Conservatory. In any case, this meant that I was in a very special situation – though until 1985 it was Janine Moura who knew Constança's output very well, from 1985 onwards, with some very rare exceptions, I had the extraordinary good fortune of following the writing of practically all her works. With the exception of one or two pieces that for various reasons I didn't have anything to do with – either because I was working on something else at the time and was elsewhere, or because I was working with another group and couldn't be available – but, not from Don't Juan, but immediately afterwards, I began to work with Constança. This allowed me to follow more closely her compositional methods. Actually, we often showed each other what we were doing. We quickly established a great complicity between us, in terms of composition, and I, as a joke, used to say that I would never show her anything of mine that wasn't already finished, because precisely because she was, in spite of everything, a far more accomplished composer and someone who, as you know, had a huge capacity for making us believe that we were geniuses! And, precisely because of that, I would always say "I'll only show you what I've done when it's finished, because then we can discuss what I did, but at least I'll know that it's a result of your presence but not of your influence over every note". At all events, it's obvious that this presence – I hope – is always there. Constança herself liked to say that I was her disciple, she herself proclaimed this, and this was something that naturally gave me much pleasure. In addition, it also allowed me to see some things I consider interesting in her career, and that are probably good points of reference, especially for anyine working in this area. Constança's attitude to sound came from a profound reflection on the sonic fact, and led to that attitude, thinking back to Schaeffer, of reduced listening. A reduced listening that is simply listening to the sound itself, independent of the causes that produce it – that which is more or less in the manuals. Now, in Constança's case, this attitude is of great interest, because we come across it – though this is arguable – in Husslerian phenomenology, by means of so-called eidetic reduction, where we see – well, I don't want to get into philosophy, which is not at all my area – a capacity to take away all that is inessential, in order to reach the essence of things.
Oddly enough, Constança, in parallel, in her attitude towards sound and music itself, cultivated a kind of awestruck attitude, which people liked to associate with some kind of eternal child that Constança had within her, and which she herself liked, or at least showed as a kind of childlike attitude, in other words, without carrying lots of cultural baggage. So with Constança there was always the idea of revision, whether of history itself, or of music. And I think that this attitude is deeply linked with her attitude towards sound, and completely coherent even in philosophical terms. It's not, shall we say, a childish attitude, as people often say, though she gladly accepted this kind of childishness, but it has to do, in my opinion, with a much deeper attitude, of knowing how to look at the world, or looking at the world without this kind of baggage, and therefore catching the essence of it, and, on that basis, developing creative work without any kind of tie, any kind of complexes, moralities, compromises – things Constança didn't have.
I don't think it was by chance that Constança went so far into music theatre, and had the courage to do so after hearing so often, even Peixinho himself, saying "What a shame that Constança spends so much time on music theatre, because when she writes purely instrumental music it's of the highest quality!" I find this very interesting, because if you look at Constança's music, it is indeed of the highest quality, she knew that, but she had the courage to follow a path that for anybody else would be a secondary path, or at least would not be quite what one expected. I think this attitude of extreme courage, of refusal, or at least not allowing any compromise with certain status quo, is one of her greatest compositional lessons. I was lucky enough to work with her – I also did my piano composition exam with her – not for good reasons, because when I did the exam – which was needed at the time in order to finish the course – unfortunately my piano teacher had died in that year. It was one of the most amazing compositional projects I did with her, the piano lessons. They were also analysis classes, because all the pieces were dissected. In order to study her performance, she herself, as you know, also undertook a lot of musicological work and was very familiar with the various pedagogical trends, as regards both piano and composition, as well as the various musicological philosophies.
Constança worked with the big names, including in Portuguese musicology, and she herself did some musicological work, such as Lux Bella, and she was extremely highly cultured, which enriched one enormously. I was lucky enough to work with her on these things, not just composition, there was also the instrument itself a little bit – in this case the piano – and also later working with her as an assistant. But what I learned from her was above all the total absence of any kind of compromise, except with a kind of great honesty or, at least, great openness to the world around us, but also with the idea of developing degrees of strictness. Constança used to say to me that teaching, in her classes, would never be teaching me things exactly, but taking away from me all the crutches, so that I could meet myself. She thought this would be a great lesson for her, the most important phase in a learning process – more than learning many things, to learn to discover ourselves for ourselves, in order to develop fully later all our processes.
Works
There’s a piece of mine, from 1986, called Para 2 pianos – from which
there developed later Para 2 pianos nº 2, which is for seven
instruments – in which there is set out a series of basic concerns, notably the
idea – and perhaps this comes from film – that I see music not as a result of
development and of certain processes of proliferation, but as a kind of
photography. At the time I saw it as a kind of photograph of the planet at a
particular time, or in other words, where there are musical materials that
intersect, that cross each other, and at that moment they appear in that way.
Not music in which there was development – moreover, that was the problem at
the time, which was going, “as a young composer”, against a kind of tradition,
when it seemed to me that all the techniques that I knew at the time, or at
least most of the techniques for developing music that I knew at the time,
through the very word “development” brought with them a kind of concession to
the principle of continuing a certain kind of traditionalism, which I was
interested in breaking with. In this sense, it seemed to me that the point I
had to attack was the idea of development, and so my music ceased to have the
idea of development and I began to develop the musical material beforehand. So
before the work is begun that are developed and in the work, the fact of there
being more or less movement – which can suggest that there’s a development of
material – comes from their collisions, their encounters. That’s how I came to
the idea of a kind of planet which is photographed at a certain moment, a kind
of meteorological report, so to speak. This idea of the planet had, for me, an
advantage at the time, because it was quite a poetic idea, and afforded me a
considerable degree of mobility. I can do what I like within a planet, a planet
is such a big thing, that allows us to do what we want. And a planet is
interesting; its poles are very different – in the case of the earth, though
not others, such as the moon – from its equator, and this allowed me to begin
to work out how to integrate postures, materials and ideas as different as,
say, concrete electronic materials, instrumental material, even if I didn’t yet
know how. So I had something that was very broad, not excessively defined, but
which allowed me to take an initial stance. At times I moved away from this
kind of situation during the course of my career. So there are works in which,
at a particular moment, I would enter into other situations, solutions, but
always with the same sort of idea – the material is developed beforehand, and
when it appears in the work I’m not very bothered about following its history
audibly. This allowed me to bring in another idea. It’s the idea that, for me,
it’s not very important how one looks at music, but the way in which one writes
it is important. I soon abandoned the idea of music as language, with its ideas
of syntax, the search for a possible semantics, and so I start from the
principle that music, in my case, may obey a series of situations. And this
idea of the planet came back later on, at a certain point, with the idea of a
work as an interface for a database, in which I finally integrated something
that had, in spite of everything, been rather forgotten, which is that I had
had training in engineering. Though I continued to be aware of the mathematical
part – more mathematics than physics – of this training – I confess that it’s
something that I never mention, but when I studied engineering, I was very
hesitant because my original idea had been to study pure mathematics, and then,
as I could take both courses at the same time, I decided to do engineering
instead, but I was completely indifferent to it at the time, my interest was
really in mathematics. Later I also studied all the problems inherent in
technology, and then I reintegrated – but within a wider perspective – the
idea, no longer of a planet, but a kind of database directed towards objects.
Objects which are sometimes sounds, sometimes musical, and other things, that
increase, and suddenly, I had not only the poetic idea of the planet, but also
of the interface in which we can see the same materials in different ways. So
it’s not a question here of materials that come from one work and appear in
another, but materials whose works are, in essence, windows onto that world.
This also allows me to establish a kind of relational algebra, in relation to
certain kinds of models for databases, in which the writing of a filter may be
the same, or can have the same value as writing for a harmonic grid, let’s say,
or operating with notes. So, different levels of writing – a more symbolic
writing, more based on a code, a writing, one can say, based on the processing
of sound itself, or of certain kinds of algorithms which allow a symbolic
manipulation of the way this sound is used – that then may result in an
instrumental score, all incorporated into a kind of great universe which is a
database orientated towards objects, with this kind of metaphor.
I think that in my work there exists on the one hand this kind of
reintegration of various kinds of knowledge that I acquired during the course
of my life, and on the other there are some works which, from today’s
perspective, give an outline idea, with various key points, of my trajectory.
There’s a process that I think is the culmination of my inheritance, narrative
film, a film in 1993 called Chá Forte com Limão, in which I think one sees
the sum of my concerns of cross-cutting a history of music, from tonality o the
20th century, and the integration of different kinds of writing
applied to narrative cinema, going back as well to the more recent tradition, a
mere 100 years, of that same cinema. There’s a series of instrumental works –
they all have certain points and characteristics, in my latest investigations,
and make up a path, though they all go in different directions. Estranho
Movimento para um Dia como o de Hoje, for example, is a work
completely without reverberation, an electronic work in which all causality is
left behind, because there are only practically electronic sounds; there are
some sounds at the beginning and the end of more causal origins, which are more
or less recognizable, but where the idea of spaces is clearly set out, there is
no space of the work; everything happens in the concert hall.
In a work such as T3, the different spaces and the different
treatments of materials begin to appear, they are integrated, when it seems
that I was looking for the idea of a sound object, or for a certain typology in
the field of sound objects, in different strata. Of you look, for example, at Quand
Trois Poules Vont au Champ, causality, which in the case of a sound object – in
more Schaefferian terms, or even in terms of spectromorphology – is completely
eliminated, in this case is integrated once more; you hear sounds which take
you back to particular codes of listening and certain behaviours. You hear
hens, cockerels, doors shutting, but the music is made in such a way that you
are between two struggles – in other words, you don’t only hear in this way but
you can also hear them as abstract entities and structures which undergo a
symbolic treatment and manipulation. This creates a work, seen as database, I
think was very important, Ressonâncias Memórias, a work for instruments and
tape, which is a kind of index, a kind of directory of all my works – in which
are contained all the elements of the works, not previous works, but materials
that I’ve used throughout my life, and with an idea I find interesting, in
spite of everything, because it’s a work is always articulated very rapidly -
“teca teca teca teca”, always based more or less on this kind of pulsation.
It’s interesting because it endeavours to build a bridge between a Platonic
idea, let’s say of a memory, the establishment of a memory as something that
registers by insistence, but at the same time, as it contains chords and other
materials that will be used in a future work – which in fact do not yet exist
in this work because they will exist in the following work, but they’re already
there – and it’s a kind of bridge between Plato and Bergson. In other words,
memory in this case as activity, not passive – an active memory that itself
engenders new things which will appear later, in another work, Trois
Chansons Inachevées, for soprano, saxophone and tape.
In any case, right now I have gone back to film, specifically to
documentary and experimental film, now dealing with aspects utterly distant
from the narrative process, but I consider that all these experiments, from
more “commercial” film in a certain narrative sense of the term, such as
television series, to music theatre itself – I myself wrote a music theatre
piece in 1998 – is part of a trajectory that I think is becoming clearer and
clearer. I like to think of it in this way. Or at least more defined as it goes
on.
Manifestations of a personal language
I think that, during the years, I adopted certain materials as, shall we
say, fetish materials, in my work. If there was a point at which I had a
problem because it could have seemed that I was becoming a cliché of myself –
which is a risk – it seemed to me that, through the years, their integration in
a natural fashion led me to a path that in some way we can find in all
composers. In Constança herself, for example, in the Amen para uma Ausência series that, in
her case, is a work that is seen again and again through a new perspective, but
in which she herself also – in other works – used, reused the same materials,
just as one uses a chord or any other kind of material. Its very
reconfiguration may bring new data.
Usually one’s concerns change and I think that the idea of there being,
in the case of my trajectory, musical material, not as coming from another work
but as being placed at a distance in a kind of reservoir – where it become
manifest, of course, through the work – where I myself, as composer, keep the
memory of the techniques of generation, and that therefore allows, very often,
certain kinds of material completely different from those that appear in other
works. In fact, they are results as if from fields of calculation. I’ll go back
again to the same metaphor – in a database I can have somebody’s date of birth
but be presented with his age: this datum is not in the base, but comes about
from the interface which imposes something on the material, and so the vision
of the material changes too, it’s not static.
In addition, I also returned to another idea, which includes the idea of
a filter, which can then be applied to other aspects, and which is a kind of
palimpsest too; in other words, very often I use the actual materials or the
same techniques on other materials, and this means that when I rewrite the
material – the sounds, the chords, whatever – it appears, we can say, with a different
configuration and this is imposed by means of certain types of procedures that
are applied, developed for a specific work. There it is – the interface – but
here I’d like to emphasize that the interface is not disconnected; it in itself
is important in relation to the material of the work. We may think that
probably, and why not, a work may itself become part of a database, and so at
that point it is itself also subject to further manipulation. So this means
that, more even than the materials that circulate from work to work, entire
works may circulate from work to work. One may pose this possibility, not in
the sense of a different version.
And then there are works that can function, let’s say – I, as a joke,
classified some of my works as internal cannibals or external
cannibals – some feed off material that already exists in the database and
therefore have no need to search for material that is in some way different, to
gather again, but to find a new perspective for the way in which these materials
are worked, to find new techniques of generation, or alteration, of revision of
the materials, to give them new directions. Other works function as search
engines; they search for new materials, find new things, in a kind of external
world, which feed this database, which increases. I must say that this
database, though it’s a computer-derived idea, may also be highly metaphorical.
I don’t depend on a music programme, of writing or working; this means that
there ideas that can be in my head, others notated on paper, others digitally
recorded. I’m not talking here about a database which physically exists, or,
shall we say, a programme for working with these materials.
Of course, anyone who knows my work will suddenly recognize certain
harmonic structures, that there’s always a door being shut somewhere – on each
fetish – there’s always a chord: either it’s been there from my first pieces,
which is seen through a new perspective, and is a kind of cross with a certain
kind of spectralism, a certain Webernism, a certain Varèsianism. There’s
something there that I always liked in these kinds of configurations and which
sometimes is imposed on other material. It’s not there, but it’s a filter; at
other times it represents the result in terms of notes, or is horizontalized,
or verticalized, or compacted, and, so it gives rise to a completely different
kind of figuration. There are certain materials which circulate but – in a way
which I hope I have learned during the course of my life – absolutely without
any compromise. I always like to quote something Debussy said to Guirot, at a
certain point, about some parallel fifths. Guirot said: “You can’t do that!”
and Debussy says “Yes, but it sounds good”. And he says “Yes, but the rules
don’t allow it”, and Debussy replies “There are no rules. All you need to do is
listen, pleasure is the rule.” I like to keep up this spirit – the same spirit,
in fact, that led me to become a composer, the enormous pleasure that I had in
writing, and so I like to try to maintain this kind of approach. No compromises
of any kind, the object is to write a pertinent work, which pleases me, and
that may have some pertinence in the context to which it belongs.
New directions and challenges
The aspect I mentioned, with regard to Constança, of following her own
path and so on, at this point has taken me to a kind of alley, which is not
exactly a dead end, but which may in fact be a huge entrance, because, all
things considered, in my career as a musician, in some way my connection to
film and to the other stage arts has been until now somewhat marginal, and now,
the most recent tendencies in my work, using a new medium of writing and
accepting that this medium will change even the way I think musically, has led
me to the idea of a much greater connection to multimedia work. Not in the
sense of me devising projects, conceiving my own films, or theatre works, in CD
ROM or whatever, but in the sense of being a member of a working team. I’ve
interested myself in developing certain ideas that I already had concerning the
articulation of image and sound – I don’t like to say correspondence, because
it’s a term I hate. I much prefer to used the term articulation than the idea
of correspondence, which I think is something that was attempted in the 19th
century, with little success, and frankly with little relevance now – that I’ve
been trying to develop in my most recent pieces and that will probably take me
further in the direction of installations, of video art and experimental film,
and probably to go into other areas where I’ve always partly present, but now
in a more direct fashion. I think this is a possibility, without forgetting
that my training was a traditional one.