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Curated by composer Jimmy López, “Inner Dialogues,” the season’s final MusicNOW program on March 23, features two of his own works — La Caresse de Couteau, for string quartet, and Guardian of the Horizon, for string ensemble — as well as Pierre Boulez’s solo clarinet showpiece Domaines, Adam Schoenberg’s brass quintet Reflecting Light and Quinn Mason’s Weapon Wheel, for three bass drums. López spoke about the program by phone. ‘
Let’s start with the program’s title — Inner Dialogues — which could lead in a lot of different directions. But one thing just off the top of my head: all of the pieces that you’ve programmed stay within instrumental families. They’re all focusing on one particular timbre.
I’m glad you noticed that. Designing the program, we were trying to really show the diversity and variety of instrumental forces within the CSO. I came up with my works, these two works for strings. Then I started to think: why don’t we have other composers bring other instrumental families into the mix? Each section of the orchestra is having a dialogue with itself. That is one meaning, for sure.
The other meaning, of course, is the reflective nature of each piece. Two works are particularly poignant in that sense: Adam Schoenberg’s Reflecting Light and my Guardian of the Horizon, because both were written to pay homage to someone who passed — a father figure in each case. So it’s all about the process of mourning, of moving on, of letting go. That is the dialogue that’s going on inside.
The Boulez is a work that was written in the ’60s, a solo work that really has different sections within itself. It reflects on the possibilities of the clarinet, but also on what it means to be a solo performer, in a way. Then, of course, there is a Quinn Mason’s piece, which is fabulous. You have these three percussion players — it requires a lot of precision and communication. But also, with Quinn being a percussion player himself — it’s written from within, I would say.
Your string quartet, La Caresse du Couteau, was inspired by the enneagram, a symbol used by the mystic and teacher G.I. Gurdjieff, a tool for looking at the world and its processes as cycles of outer creation and inner renewal. And it struck me that the pieces on the program have this cyclical aspect to it as well — yours and Adam’s are about life cycles. The Boulez is architecturally a cyclical piece. Even Quinn Mason’s piece — he calls it a wheel because, visually and musically, it is literally going around.
The thing about music and our perception of time — we have that dichotomy, right? Is time linear? Is it cyclical? Are we on an endless loop? We have this idea that the universe expanded following the big bang, and then it’s going to contract again. And what happens after that? Are we going to enter another cycle? The interesting thing, for me, is that, since the beginning of music, it’s been played in these similar ritual contexts. We can imagine our first ancestors sitting around a circle of fire and then drumming and even dancing.
I have been always fascinated by the philosophy and the nature of life. When La Caresse du Couteau was written, in 2004, I was on an intense spiritual quest. I actually flew to India — I stayed at an ashram with an Indian guru. I was reading a lot about Gurdjieff. I decided, why don’t I try to incorporate all these thoughts and ideas into a work of music? It’s an invitation for listeners to just allow themselves to be taken into this process.
When I was designing the program, I thought of symbology to a certain extent. In Guardian of the Horizon, there’s the image of the Sphinx as a guardian of the other world, the world beyond the world of the living. And Adam’s piece references reflected light, of course, and the element of light has always been associated with spiritual transcendence.
I talked with Daniel Bernard-Roumain [who, with Jimmy López, served as Mead Composer-Curators this season of the MusicNOW series] when he put together his MusicNOW program back in the fall, and we talked a little bit about ensembles as idealized communities, of sorts. But I also think putting a program like this together is projecting an idea of the community of composers, and maybe inviting the audience into it. How do you see the community of composers today and your place in it?
It’s actually different than the one I saw growing up. In my native country, Peru, we had a very notable generation of composers that we call the generation of the ’50s. One of them was my teacher, Enrique Iturriaga [1918-2019], who was basically the dean of composers down there. But his generation didn’t quite communicate as well among each other. There were aesthetic lines that were very clearly drawn. Now composers are more receptive, more eclectic. I feel very fortunate to live now, because I think that there is no reason why we shouldn’t have a plurality of voices.
Even within my music — my two pieces could have been written by different composers. It’s a testament to the flexibility that I had in evolving and acquiring different styles. And I also feel that nowadays we do live in a community where we celebrate each other. When I see Quinn Mason having success, or Adam Schoenberg, or a number of other colleagues, I celebrate the fact that we all have the freedom to explore our own voices. There is room for everyone.
Among young composers, I always try to foster that sense of community. When I give a masterclass, I’m happiest when the various composers have vastly different influences. They can all listen to each other, celebrate each other and respect each other. And I think that is very, very important in our world today.
This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.
