An Interview with Stephen Gardner
Belfast-born composer Stephen Gardner didn’t even know there was an orchestra in his school -- he was in the ‘remedial music’ class -- but after a few years in a band and a visit to the Ennis IMRO Composition Summer School, it all started to make sense. He talks to Jonathan Grimes.
Originally published in 2005.
Jonathan Grimes: Stephen, the last time I interviewed you was in 1999 for New Music News. You had just moved near Dublin from Belfast in Northern Ireland to take up a position as composer-in-residence in Dún Laoghaire [town in greater Dublin area]. Six years on you've settled there; does living there suit you?
Stephen Gardner: It does. I don't like cities and would never live in one, but it's great to be near Dublin. Dún Laoghaire is great because I like cycling and swimming in the summer.
JG: How important was moving down here from Belfast? Did it have any effect on you as a composer?
SG: There are not many [new music] groups up North, so there was nobody to write for, so you had to hope to get the odd orchestral commission. I'd been thinking about something like a composer-in-residence, either in the North or down here. Michael Dervan [music critic] interviewed me for The Irish Times in 1998 and I happened to say this to him. He suggested I talk to Clíona Shaffrey, who worked in Dún Laoghaire/Rathdown Arts Office, so I phoned her and she was really interested. After that, I went down and had an interview, and that's how I got it. There were a couple of commissions included in this as well as doing work in the community. I think it helped because I felt I was stagnating a bit.
JG: In terms of the education work you did back then, have you done any similar work since?
SG: No, but I wouldn't mind doing it. I enjoyed it, especially working with the group. I would still have contact with most of them.
JG: How did you end up becoming a composer? Was this something that was always with you growing up or did this desire to become a composer come later on?
SG: It was later on when I was in college. It would be interesting to find out how many composers -- and I would definitely be one -- are actually failed performers: you know, who realised they were crap as a performer and just did composition; I wanted to be a performer.
JG: And what was your instrument?
SG: Guitar. I was a late starter anyway -- I was 25 or 26 and had only started playing an instrument when I was 20, and started playing classical when I was 24.
JG: So, as well as taking up composing late, you came to performing late. What did you do before then?
SG: I left school when I was about 16 and worked in a bakery -- I needed the dough! That's the first time I've said that in ages:kneaded the dough. I did that for a year and then my O-Level results were really terrible. Then I went back to tech [second level education] for two years and did some more O-levels and A-levels, and failed again.
JG: And even though you weren't playing music back then, were you interested in music and listening to music?
SG: Oh, very much. The odd thing is, even when I was in school I didn't know there was an orchestra in our school. I saw kids coming in with their violin cases and just thought, 'there's some snooty kid in playing,' but I never thought there was an orchestra as well.
JG: And you never did music in school?
SG: I would have been in what might have been called 'remedial music'. You had people that were interested in music and then you had the wazzos like us who were put in a class. The teacher would do nothing with you for the whole year, and then one day he'd play The Planets suite and then a couple of months later he'd play the 1812 Overture; then the teacher ignores you and you do whatever you want. I never bothered with music at all[back then]. There was music in the family: my dad was big into music and was a choirmaster, organist and taught piano too; my brother was really good at the piano when he was a kid.
JG: And when you took up guitar did you play in a band?
SG: Yes. My first electric guitar I bought was a Fender Strat, although I'd played a big black acoustic guitar for about a year before that. A few of us decided to get a band together.
JG: Was this in the 1970s or early 1980s?
SG: Early 1980s. I was in that band for about three years. We actually had a cult following -- his name was Tom and he used to follow us to all our gigs. We did very bad versions of Pink Floyd and we played about three songs that lasted thirty minutes each.
JG: Progressive rock?
SG: They weren't progressive; none of us could play. Only Kev, the bass player, could play properly. We thought what we did was dead vibey! That got the interest [in music] going anyway.
JG: And did you then take lessons and begin to read music after that or did this coincide with when you went to college?
SG: While I was doing that I thought I'd like to learn classical guitar. There was this guy, Tommy, in the housing estate where I lived, and he actually ran the local marching band. He was about 70 and was extremely shaky and could hardly show me anything because he couldn't connect his fingers to the instrument. Learning classical guitar was great because it gave me something different to do. Unfortunately within about two months of me going to him he died. So I went to this other guy, Jamshid Mirfenderesky, and started doing grade exams.
JG: Shifting the focus slightly: you grew up in Belfast in the period during the ‘Troubles’ [the period of violent conflict in Northern Ireland]. Many artists who lived in Belfast during this period often say that the Troubles had some sort of impact on their work. Do you think that whole experience had any influence on your composing?
SG: I don't think so, but then you don't know. People say to you, 'Oh, it must have.' It's hard to say. There were a few pieces that I wrote that took something that was happening [at the time]. For example, my first commission was an orchestral piece, Wanting, Not Wanting, in 1992. At the time, there was a couple of really bad shootings -- one in the Bookies in the Ormeau Road [Belfast] and another reprisal the next week when eight workers in a police station were killed. I wrote this piece about that -- it was a sort of mournful piece. It wasn't as if I was digging into some big reservoir of pain and anguish over the last twenty years before that, but maybe these things work subliminally.
JG: Or then again, as has often been said, composers keep on composing no matter where they are in the world or what things are happening around them.
SG: There are plenty of examples of composers -- even when a very close relative died -- they still go on writing.
JG: So as you went through college, presumably you became more interested in composing?
SG: I suppose while I was in the band, I was writing wee things -- licks on the guitar or an idea for a piece: that was a more collaborative process. At the end of first year in college, I saw an ad for the Ennis IMRO Composition Summer School withJohn Buckley and James Wilson. I went to that and thought, 'I like this.' -- it was a good week and the craic was good.
JG: If you were to look at yourself in the mirror musically, how do you think you'd describe yourself?
SG: I don't know: just someone who writes music! Do you mean stylistically?
JG: Yes.
SG: Traditional, definitely traditional. I wouldn't be way out there or anything. But then, the strange thing is that people like my mum or my aunties or lots of people I grew up with would still find my music really weird and couldn't possibly conceive of it being traditional. Traditional in the sense that I still like the idea of a formal structure -- themes developed and incorporated, goal-directed music. Even though I'm starting to use electronics, I still don't think it's going to change me radically. Well, I hope it changes me a bit because I'm sick of writing the same crap! [laughs] I'm doing a piece for the Crash Ensemble and it's supposed to use some electronics; I'm looking forward to that.
JG: As to musical influences, what would you say are the main ones?
SG: One of my first records I got was Alvin Stardust -- so old Alvin's probably there still influencing me. Leo Sayer: I quite like his stuff. One of my really early records was a Gilbert O'Sullivan one called Clair; I still really love that song -- it's beautifully structured. Pink Floyd would still be a big influence in terms of overall harmony, mood and subtlety. Classically, it would be Stravinsky and every composers' favourite, Bach.
JG: And your first works date from when you were about 30. Did you write any works before that?
SG: No, only for degree work and for the Ennis IMRO Composition Summer School.
JG: Going back to those early works, the first two works you wrote were orchestral pieces. Throughout your composing career, writing for orchestra has been a feature in that you've written quite a lot for this medium.
SG: I think it's easier to write for orchestra. If you're a bit of a bluffer like me it is easier, because you can colour in and you've got more forces at your disposal to create what you want.
JG: And you use all the forces?
SG: Yes. I remember one of my old teachers saying, 'For God's sake, if you've got it, use it.' I think I might be tending towards writing more sparsely now -- says me, whose last piece was a complete racket! [laughs]. I do think it's easy to write for orchestra but composers I know who haven't written for orchestra think, 'Flip, that's going to be tricky.' It's more the fear of it than the reality -- I think the reality is that it's actually easier, and I've talked to other composers who agree.
JG: So writing for orchestra seems to come naturally to you?
SG: I think I was lucky because when I wrote my first orchestral piece, some of what I'd written actually worked, so it gave me confidence. I remember the very first piece I wrote for orchestra in college... I got my Gordon Jacob book on orchestration for it -- that's how sad it was! Then when I did my next one I forgot all that and just wrote what I heard, and hoped that some combinations worked. I've always treated writing for orchestra like an artist's palette -- you mix colours and put certain colours against each other and certain textures against each other.
JG: And has your approach to writing for orchestra changed much in say the last fifteen years since your initial orchestral piece?
SG: I suppose it's a bit broader, more expansive, and a wee bit more adventurous; maybe not that much, but perhaps it has a bit more colour in it now.
JG: I want to ask you about your recent orchestral work,NEVER...NEVER...NEVER which was inspired by the Reverend Ian Paisley. How did you end up writing a piece about Ian Paisley?
SG: It was only while I was doing it that I thought about it. It came about because I had these three high piccolos -- they were screaming a bit and I started thinking about marching bands. Then, I started thinking about using this famous tune called The Sash, and somehow weaving that into it. The whole thing came together and I used Onward Christian Soldiers, but you can't make it out. There is the painting by Francis Bacon called Three Screaming Popes, so I thought Three Screaming Paisleys [and subsequently changed the title to NEVER...NEVER...NEVER]. Even though Paisley is not really a screamer -- he's more like a ranter or a shouter. There is a piece that I like also by Mark Anthony Turnage, Three Screaming Popes, but my piece doesn't sound like it. This piece is a musical interpretation of an imaginary painting of what Bacon might have painted -- that's just for the programme note to make it sound fancy.
JG: And did Dr Paisley ever hear it?
SG: He certainly didn't but I'm sure he'd love to. I don't know if he would like it or would be interested in it anyway but you never know -- he could be checking out the latest Stockhausen on the Internet!
JG: You said that you got the idea for the piece after you started it.
SG: I was into the structure when the idea came.
JG: Is that a common thing for you to do -- to start with a blank canvas and let the ideas come to you? Or do you sometimes get ideas for works that you store up and use once a suitable commission opportunity comes up?
SG: Both ways. Sometimes you will have an idea [before you begin a work]. The way I work is that if I don't hear it, I won't put it in. That's why for years I didn't use percussion -- and percussion players used to say, 'Why don't you use percussion? You're not a proper writer if you don't use percussion.' That's because I wasn't hearing it, but recently I've been hearing it with a bang.
JG: When you say you're not hearing it, what to you mean?
SG: I'm not hearing it in my head. I wouldn't put it in if I didn't hear it. Sometimes you hear percussion concertos and they're just battering every instrument -- that's the complete opposite of what I would do. Having said that I use every instrument in the orchestra, so I'm full of shit.
JG: But you hear all the instruments?
SG: Sort of, but my harmonic awareness isn't great -- I still have to use a keyboard to check. I can't hear big fancy harmonies.
JG: And that's my next question. In terms of how you work, when you actually come to writing a work is there a definite composing pattern or do you tend to approach each work differently? For example, do you always work near a piano or can you work away from it?
SG: Both, I could go days without a piano but I use it especially to get my main harmonies -- that's very important to me. I hear a big harmony with about 24 notes -- I have to check [on the piano] to get it. And of course, there are ones I've used before and I wouldn’t need a piano for these.
JG: Do you have a strict pattern when you're writing a piece: are you composing at certain times of the day or do you keep at it until it's written?
SG: It varies. NEVER...NEVER...NEVER took me eight months [to write]. That included two months of writing it up neatly. That piece was very pre-structured. The odd time I might do a piece and write the ending first, but I wouldn't do that much.
JG: So you do tend to map out what you're going to do?
SG: I would be a big ‘structure’ man -- that's part of why I would describe myself as being traditional. Having said that, I think most composers are traditional; there are only a few that I'd say aren't.
JG: How do you find the composing process itself? Do you find it easy or is it a tortuous process to get your ideas out and sort everything else so that you're happy with the finished piece?
SG: Yet again like most of the answers, it's a mixture. Sometimes when it's flowing it's all great. You're on a flow for a couple of hours and you get the tea on, have a cigarette, chill out, get back to it and it's gone. When you're trying to get something and you can't really get it, that does your head it. But there's nothing like a deadline; I couldn't do without a deadline. If there wasn't a deadline and I had a bit of a block, I could be five years at something -- that's probably because I'm lazy.
JG: And do you ever write for the sake of writing? Do you always write now to commission?
SG: This is age for you: twenty years ago, I'd do anything to write -- I'd give somebody fifty pence to write a piece. I'm not like that now: now I want a commission because I'm making a living out of composing. I've been very lucky to get good commissions since I've come down [to Dublin]. I've one coming up but then that could be it -- it could dry up. Once that happens, I probably would write for the sake of writing because once you get into the way of composition you just like writing.
JG: And you were elected to Aosdána [Ireland’s affiliation of creative artists’] in 2003. Has being a member of this helped you as a composer?
SG: Definitely, because it gives me security. I get the cnúas[annual stipend] and if you manage to get a couple of commissions a year on top of that, you get by.
JG: You have a new string quartet which will be performed at the West Cork Chamber Music Festival by the RTÉ Vanbrugh Quartet this June, don't you?
SG: Yes. It took me five weeks to do the parts and then somebody else had to do them on computer.
JG: Did you ever consider writing your music on computer?
SG: I started last year. I got a computer and Finale [software], and took some lessons. I just haven't the brain for it; it did my head in. I just thought 'Why can't you just make that simple? All I want to do is put an accidental in.' I thought: I'm hostage to this guy who's written this program and I don't like the way he's done this. I smashed the screen and that was it. I'm planning to go back [to using it] later this year.
JG: Going back to your new work for West Cork, the title isDon't push your granny when she's shavin'. Where did this title come from and, more to the point, is there another meaning behind it?
SG: I think it's probably a universal truism that you really shouldn't push your granny when she's shaving because it could be dangerous. It depends where she's shaving -- you know, if she's shaving her legs she could get a cut leg. It's a way of saying 'Be careful.'
JG: You do actually have that on your composer quote on the CMC web site -- so this applies also to your composing?
SG: [laughs] Oh, I really have to bring the bullshit out here. Of course, yes.
JG: What made you choose this title for the work? Is it because you just liked it?
SG: Because I liked it, like a lot of titles I've had. The last string quartet I wrote, May you live to you die, was just because a guy said it to me out on the street. I was coming out of a shop and he started talking to me, and when I was walking away he said, 'May you live to you die.' I thought, 'That's good. I'll use it as a title.' But there probably are granny pushing, non-accident things in the piece. I remember in third year in college, I did this piece called Under the Volcano -- an absolutely dire piece -- but at the end of it, this guy came up to me and he said, 'I could hear all the volcanic explosions in the piece.' But I called itUnder the Volcano because when I wrote the music I wanted somewhere to store my music sheets so they didn't bend; I had this album called Under the Volcano, and that's why I called it this. Isn't it amazing what people read into a title? Like with the Debussy Preludes you could probably change a lot of the titles round.
JG: A title is so important and it does colour people's perception of the work. Do you think that if Don't push your granny when she's shavin' was called something else, like 'String Quartet No. 3', an audience's perception might be different?
SG: I think so. Another piece I had was Riding the Scree. I took that title from a piece on a Genesis album. This woman turns round to me after the performance and says that she could hear horses coming down the scree. I wasn't going to start laughing at her. If you suggest something in a title... [people will latch on to it].
JG: You've written three string quartets. Is the string quartet a medium you're drawn to or did these happen by accident?
SG: The first string quartet, Tallaght, I wanted to write; the second was a commission for a group in Sligo; and the latest one is also a commission. I do enjoy writing for it.
JG: Are there any genres...?
SG: ...You never asked what my favourite film or footballer is.
JG: Well, what is your favourite film?
SG: Godfather Part 2 and my favourite footballer is George Best. Go on...
JG: ...Are there any other genres that you haven't written for that you would like to write for?
SG: I'd like to write more for the trumpet -- that's my favourite instrument. I actually played it a wee bit in my twenties and Miles Davis would be one of my heros. I don't want to write for a brass ensemble; I'm not sure how I want to write for it. When I used trumpets in NEVER...NEVER...NEVERthey were blasting out rather than subtle or tonal.
JG: Trumpet concerto perhaps?
SG: I'm not sure. That's the thing -- if it was a trumpet concerto I'd probably want it all quiet, but you can do what you want, can't you?
JG: You're involved in the Composer's Choice festival in theNational Concert Hall in September. Are you writing any pieces for that?
SG: I'm writing one for Lontano, the group I chose to play the pieces. They'll do a piece by Xenakis, and Bill Evans who played piano with Miles Davis. The new piece I might call You can beat an egg because you can beat an egg! The other work of mine that they'll perform is Mutable Sea.
JG: We'll look forward to hearing that and the new piece for West Cork. Thanks very much Stephen.
SG: Thanks Jonathan.
Stephen Gardner was interviewed on video by Jonathan Grimes in the Contemporary Music Centre, Dublin, on 11 May 2005..
The views expressed in this interview are those of the persons concerned and are not necessarily those of the Contemporary Music Centre.