Jonathan Grimes: You've just had your Ninth Symphony premiered recently, which is a truly remarkable achievement -- to have written nine symphonies in a relatively short space of time. Were you always drawn towards the symphony or did this happen by accident?

John Kinsella: I think it's true to say that I was always drawn towards it. In fact, when I was about seventeen, I wrote a symphony for a competition in Radio Éireann [now RTÉ, the state broadcaster] called the Carolan Prize. I submitted the score of what is now probably my Symphony No. 0 to that competition. I didn't do very much composition after that because I wasn't quite sure where I was going. I always had the impulse to write music but I wasn't quite sure how to do it. I had done a certain amount of study, mainly in string playing, and my formal studies were things like Kitson [harmony and counterpoint tutors], which were not terribly inspiring from a composition point of view. So I really wasn't quite sure about how to go about following through. There was a bit of a hiatus until towards the end of the fifties and then I began to pick up and compose again. That actually, for some peculiar reason, corresponds with when I got married, so maybe it was that my life was more stabilised at that stage.

JG: So you came at composition through learning an instrument?

JK: Yes, and the impulse to compose. Even before that, I was always drawn towards listening to music. My father was a great help. He wasn't a musician at all but he was quick enough to realise that this was quite a serious interest on my part. He began building up a library of scores for me -- he used to buy miniature scores of whatever I was interested in. So I used to listen and look [at the scores]. I learned a lot -- you can't improve on seeing how Beethoven does it, especially if you spend time over it. Writing in a diatonic system, I was filled with all sorts of inhibitions. Having studied Kitson…that almost stops you from being creative, because there are so many "You shall not do this; you shall not do that." Being very young at the time, I used to take that very seriously. When I became aware of developments in music during the fifties and the move towards twelve-tone composition, I began experimenting with that and read some books on the subject. I had some correspondence with a Welsh composer, Reginald Smith Brindle, who wrote some very fine books on serial composition. That set me off in a particular direction.

JG: It must've been difficult to find your way initially because there was a lack in Ireland at that time of formal structures for learning composition. So you came at it from a different way through reading scores and experiencing music?

JK: Yes, listening to music and seeing how it looked. Another impulse around that time was that I got involved in a group of chamber music players, which included people like Proinnsías Ó Duinn and Colin Stavely [violinist]. We all wrote music for our group and that was a great stimulus. The other was when I'd written one or two pieces in the new dodecaphonic style. I submitted these to RTÉ and they agreed to do them. There was a series of concerts run by Hans Waldemar Rosen [conductor active in Ireland during the 1960s]. It was all very experimental and he used to try a very wide repertoire, and I got some [of my] pieces done in that context. So one push here, push there gave me a bit more confidence.

JG: And as a composer working in the sixties, how do you feel it compares to today?

JK: Things have obviously improved. You've the Contemporary Music Centre, for instance, which is a fantastic development. There are more composers around and it's not just a male pre-occupation either -- there are lots of female composers coming through. So one doesn't feel so isolated. Although in society in general, the idea of an Irish composer of 'classical music', or whatever you want to call it, is still a strange item, generally speaking. Even in the arts, among our fellow creative artists in other disciplines, you still feel slightly out of it.

JG: To come back to your work during the sixties, what was your first break as a composer in terms of a significant work or performance?

JK: I suppose to me a break was getting something done. I submitted a Chamber Concerto to RTÉ at the time for solo violin and a very mixed group of instruments, and that went into that series with Hans Waldemar Rosen. To me that was a breakthrough into another world. David Lillis, who led the RTÉ Quartet for many years afterwards, was the soloist in that, and he was extremely supportive. The Irish Chamber Orchestra, mark one, was just starting at that time and he asked me if I would write a piece for this new string orchestra, so I did and that was performed.

JG: And that was Two Pieces for String Orchestra from 1965, which, if I'm correct in my memory of the work, uses a twelve-tone language, which was the style you were writing in at the time.

JK: That’s perfectly true, but it also, as far as I can remember, has elements of a tendency towards accessible themes, rather than being totally abstract. I’ve always had that leaning too, so it’s a matter of trying to marry the two. I allowed the formal organisation idea to drive me for a good few years after that, and I made a complete switch then.

JG: So you did move away from serialism?

JK: Quite consciously. It’s peculiar because one work that seems to have been successful was Montage 2, an orchestral piece. That was organized quite firmly in a serial manner, using all sorts of new Pendereski-like techniques in the strings. It was written for a huge set of forces, including the RTÉ Quartet, a choir, bodhrán, speaker, singer -- everything I could think of at the time. But I wasn’t too happy. You can pile this and that on -- it’s perhaps not the way to go. One should, perhaps, pair things down and force one to say, “What are you saying and why are you saying it?” Not that I ever made sounds for their own sake -- I can’t see any point in that. But [perhaps ask yourself] “What are you saying with it and do you need all that?” So I deliberately put that discipline on myself to work in a more accessible language, which again was a more difficult thing to do, and to use smaller forces at that time.

JG: And when was this?

JK: That was done in the mid seventies.

JG: It’s interesting because you’re not the only Irish composer who has had this style shift. Seóirse Bodley changed, and Eric Sweeney as well.

JK: And I think if you stand back and look at it in a global sense you’ll find this was happening everywhere. Which is just another example of a wave of artistic endeavour that changes. It reaches a certain point, learn from what its done and move on. We seemed to have picked up on that.

JG: And of course, composition wasn’t the only thing you were involved in at that time.

JK: It was very much a nighttime activity and was marginalized from eight to ten in the evening.

JG: And this was my next question. You worked, for many years, in the music department of RTÉ, and this culminated in you becoming Head of Music there from 1983 to 1988. Was this a challenge for you to manage your 'day job' and also to keep your composing going?

JK: It was difficult but I had been doing it for many years. I had been in RTÉ since 1968 and I'd been working in a commercial computer firm, Player Wills, [before that]. So, it was the same routine whether I was Head of Music or not. It was still the same business of finding a few hours in the evening to compose -- that's the way it was for a few decades actually. When I saw the opportunity to leave RTÉ and take up composition full-time I decided to make the leap. Now it wasn't easy -- I'd been married again because my first wife had died and we had two young children. I hadn't got a lot of pensionable years built up in RTÉ, so it was a financial risk. I thought, being a member of Aosdána [state-sponsored academy for Irish artists], I'd get a cnúas [annual stipend available to some members of Aosána] but I didn't. So I negotiated with RTÉ and said, "I do really want to leave but financially I can't." The idea was that they would give me a series of commissions, which would be the financial equivalent of a cnúas, to bridge the gap until I reached the proper pensionable age, and then take it from there.

JG: And that arrangement resulted in a number of symphonies being composed.

JK: Yes, that was the idea. They [RTÉ] commissioned me to write a number of large orchestral works, which would be performed by the RTÉ Symphony Orchestra. In the negotiations, I said, "I don't want this as a retainer," and I put the discipline on myself, which thinking back now was really a bit of a risk. I said, "I don't want the money unless I produce the scores." So I really had to work like hell.

JG: It must have been quite a lot of pressure to deliver all these works.

JK: Yes, because financially I needed that money as well. But thankfully it all worked out.

JG: Aside from that, it must have been a big change to go from splitting your day between working in other areas and composing, to just composing full-time.

JK: They were heady days actually, certainly for the first few months. I just couldn't believe I was in this situation and I worked furiously for long periods every day. Then it evened out and got a bit more sensible. It was a wonderful stimulus -- I can still recall the way I felt.

JG: And how many works did you actually compose as part of that arrangement?

JK: Six works.

JG: And were they all symphonies?

JK: There was one Violin Concerto and symphony No. 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6. So it brought me up to [symphony] No. 6, and then [symphony] No. 7 was a commission from Cork [Cork School of Music Symphony Orchestra] through Geoff Spratt [Head of Cork School of Music], No. 8 was an actual commission from RTÉ rather than a retirement arrangement, and then No. 9 just came out of the blue this time last year.

JG: And I want you to tell me a little bit more, if you will, about your ninth symphony, which was written for the Irish Chamber Orchestra and performed in September.

JK: That's right. Well, it came about because they performed this string piece of mine, Hommage à Clarence, which was dedicated to an English violinist [Clarence Myerscough], who I knew very well and who died in 2001. His wife asked me to write this piece for a memorial concert a year later, and it was only intended for one performance. Then I got a call from John Kelly of the ICO to say they were taking it on board, and they have toured it a lot since. That led to the commission. The commission idea was, I think, roughly a concerto-style piece for string orchestra. They left me a complete blank page to do what I liked but there was just a hint that it could be virtuosic in ways. I think the symphony is quite virtuosic in many ways. What it turned out to be was a three-movement work, and each of the movements is preceded by a recitative-like section. Also entwined throughout the whole work is the Jesu meine Freude chorale melody [by Bach].

JG: And how long did the work take you to write? Was this something that was with you for a number of years, prior to this actual commission?

JK: I hadn't anything specific [before the commission]. The chorale melody had certainly been floating around for years, like lots of other ideas -- it's like having a sketchbook. It's funny because I swore I would never write another orchestral work because my eighth symphony actually damaged my health; I was in quite a low way after that. Things seemed to have improved and this whole thing came just at the right time. And having heard the way the orchestra and Nick McGegan [conductor] played the Hommage á Clarence piece, I couldn't believe the way they had done it. They had done things -- ways of phrasing and turning corners and that -- that were most imaginative and really caught my fancy. So it was great to do a piece specifically for them, knowing the way they went about [performing] it.

JG: And did you feel, if I can put it this way, 'the hand of history on your shoulder' when writing the piece?

JK: Well it is a phrase that everybody is aware of: if you do have the temerity to do a ninth symphony, the next thing you do is end up in a box. But I have my insurance policy because I had already written my Symphony No. 0! So I've survived that. But so many composers have written just nine symphonies, more than any other number -- it is funny.

JG: It is, but I think in the last century that fewer composers have written nine. They've either stopped short of that number or gone beyond it. For instance, I was interested to know if any other Irish composer has written more than nine symphonies and I had a feeling that Robert Simpson did.

JK: He's gone way beyond that.

JG: He wrote eleven.

JK: The only other one I know of was Stanford and he wrote seven. Maybe I should stop now and enshrine it.

JG: And when you're writing a work of this size, do you work exclusively on it?

JK: Yes, I've always been like that, regardless of whether it's a big piece or a small piece. I cannot work on two things at the same time, and I very much admire people who can. It's either a plus point in my favour or a failing -- I'm not quite sure which. I simply have to just concentrate and finish it. I had put aside a piece, which I was doing in another context, to write this symphony because there was a deadline on it. I'm finding it very hard now to get back in on that; I'll get there but it's taking a long time.

JG: Looking back on over fifty years of composing, are there any works that stand out particularly for you and that you'd like to have performed again?

JK: One would always like things to get other performances. With the lack of publishing here it's almost impossible to have an orchestral work done abroad because people simply don't know they are there. I'd certainly love to hear some of the symphonies done again. I think No. 6 was quite a success in the National Concert Hall because it was written for that particular hall. I'd like to hear No. 7 done again. You were asking about how composers are situated nowadays. With large works, you simply just get your commission, it's performed, and then that's it. There seems to be no mechanism for revisiting that work, it's extraordinary.

JG: It's a problem. Even looking back at works that historically stand out, they're often neglected too.

JK: It was something I myself was conscious of when I was Head of Music [at RTÉ]. I used to make a point of having works by people like Archie Potter, John F. Larchet, Seán O Riada in concerts; I think that should be done nowadays. It's a pity.

JG: And of course, in contrast to this, you mentioned the Irish Chamber Orchestra performing your work Hommage á Clarence. It must be very satisfying for you when a work you write almost enters into an ensemble's standard repertoire.

JK: It is obviously very gratifying indeed. You find that the work takes on a life of its own and you're not connected with it necessarily any more.

JG: And what are you currently working on at the moment?

JK: As I said, I'm trying to get back into this set of variations for orchestra I've been working on. My next project, although I've no commission for it, will be a string quartet.

JG: And, dare I ask the question, can we expect any more symphonies? Is Shostakovich now your role model?

JK: No. I really thought when I'd written No. 6 that that was the end of it. They [the other symphonies] all came from impulses I couldn't have foreseen, so maybe there's another one out there.

JG: Who knows? That's all I wanted to ask you so thank you very much, John.

JK: Thank you.

John Kinsella was interviewed on video by Jonathan Grimes in the Contemporary Music Centre, Dublin, on 13 October 2004.

The views expressed in this interview are those of the persons concerned and are not necessarily those of the Contemporary Music Centre.