Patrick Ellis

Interviewer (I) - What is composition for you? What does it mean to do composition?

Patrick Ellis (PE) - I think for me it has been quite a central activity [that] I’ve been doing for basically half my life now. I've just turned 31 and I started composing when I was 15. So it's always been an activity to do. But I've noticed because it's been such a central part of my life it's sort of guided me, you know. It's not just work or a creative outlet, it's also almost social to a degree now, because I'm going to these new music concerts or experimental music nights, which had I not stepped into composition, [I] wouldn't [have] been [at] that. So it's a core part of my life. It's a process of making something, but a process of uncovering something as well that's maybe already there, or a change from the previous thing that you've done in music, you know.

Yeah, that was a few bases. But yeah, I think it's just a big part of what I do and who I am. And also, it's a process of just unraveling, and this thing that I've been involved in in different capacities for 15 years or so now.

I - Are there other boundaries where something stops being composition? What is your creative or musical practice that stops being composition?

PE - That's an interesting one. For me, that has changed over the years. I think when I was a student in Birmingham [for my undergraduate degree], it was a lot looser because [it] was quite performance art heavy, a few people were quite involved in performance art. So maybe, say, 10 or so years ago, that boundary [was] maybe a lot looser. Since my master's degree [2017-19], I have been a bit more locked into concert music. So my way is a bit more defined now.

Obviously there's boundaries where if you give a bit of flexibility to the performer, it’s composition in the sense that it was your intention to allow them freedom. But then how they respond is then not so much your work, then it becomes more of a collaborative thing. But the name's still kind of tacked onto the piece, but then there’s sort of an asterisk mark of, ‘oh yeah, this bit, they did this.’ So maybe there's a bit more interplay.

I'm also in a duo, which is worth mentioning, and that's more from, for me, like a performance and curatorial side. And that's kind of funny, because we do have quite a heavy amount of input in how the pieces turn out, as they're quite open-ended. But I still see it as, okay, yeah, maybe I contribute to this element, but it's still their piece, you know?

So maybe as a performer, the boundaries are maybe much more defined. But then as a composer, I'm like, ‘they had quite an input into this, so is it really my sole composition?’ Or is it more of a collaborative work?

Again, some pieces I've done with video, and I still see making video as composition, like filming video is part of the composition process for me. Even though that without context is not composition, but because it's an element or a component into a piece, I see it as a composition thing.

I - I mean, it's not just about generating musical material, isn't it?

PE - Exactly. It's almost like, if it's a project where you're doing it from the ground up, not where someone approaches you and goes, ‘oh, here's a commission.’ When it's a more of a DIY ground up project, almost the WhatsApp chats or finding the venue or finding the funding, that's almost part of the composition process in some ways. In a very loose way.

I - It's interesting that it almost starts to overlap with director or something, you know, other terms that have more to do with production of it.

PE - For sure. It's as though if you're trying to do something from the ground up, you have to generally take on a lot more hats than if it was say like, you're going to have this piece played at this festival [with] this ensemble, this is the instrumentation [etc]. If you do something from the ground up, even if the performer approaches you, but they're also doing it from the ground up, you will [be] wearing a lot more hats and doing a lot more legwork before the actual composition.

It's almost unfair to write that part of the process off as just logistics. In some ways [this will] influence why the writing [takes] longer or [is] quicker or whatever.

I - How often are you doing totally self-motivated works compared to commissions or?

PE - It's generally a balance since I finished or left education like six years ago, but I think this year has been a lot more ground up actually, so things have been a bit slower this year for me. But I'd say it's sort of a balance between, about 50-50 more or less. Some things just fall into me sometimes, but actually some of the self-done ones, or these ones where you're approached but they don't have the money there yet, or they're like, ‘let's do this,’ but this is going to be a slow process to actually make it happen. They often turn out to be the more rewarding ones.

Going back to the previous question, there's more of a process [where] you're not just sort of there. ‘Oh, okay, they want me to do this. I'll do this. Bish bash bosh done.’

I - What's been your inroads to composition? Is it something you started at school or were you doing it at home?

PE - Yeah, schoolwork… In the UK we have a thing called GCSEs [for ages 14-16], which then leads into A-levels [for ages 16-18], which is the thing before a degree. So I guess it would be like the upper end of middle school, the lower end of high school. It was just set work we did as part of the module and I just really enjoyed the process, and I can't really remember when exactly it started, but because I was writing stuff. I knew I wanted to be in music when I was performing, but then that was the lock-in of like, I want to do this actually. Then I just dived into it and from the age of 16 I was like I'm gonna be a composer.

I - So instrumental practice came before writing?

PE - Exactly. So I was a trumpet player. Which is so far removed from where I am now.

I - Would you name the field in which you operate? It's obviously a contentious question, but maybe you're totally happy with a certain name. People seem to have some feelings about new music versus contemporary music versus experimental, yadda yadda.

PE - Yeah, that's true. I wouldn't really say I'm an experimental composer, to be honest. Just because, I do obviously see the lines being very blurred, but I kind of see there's some people who call… I kind of see people like Louis d’Heudières or the New Discipline type composers, as being much more in the experimental realm, even though some of that is quite heavily notated and whatnot.

Again, like Jennifer Walsh I see as more experimental. I do almost latch on to more of the ensemble chamber kind of tradition. I'm generally not doing too many of my own performances. It's like I'm a composer and a performer, but not like a Composer/Performer in caps kind of thing. So yeah I do see myself more I guess as contemporary or new music. But when I explain it to non-musicians, I try and describe a vague aesthetic, which is not too niche to them. And then say, ‘but I write for classical performers doing this kind of thing.’

I - What would that aesthetic be? How did you describe that aesthetic?

PE - Well, I say kind of ambienty, but then sometimes also ‘Krautrock’ for the slower things, but then also I use electronics and visuals sometimes.If I was saying [it] to a composer [that] I take elements of rock music [etc], I would prefer to not use that terminology. But to someone who's not a musician or in the art world, I might as well say that.

A lot of people say that my music is quite minimal, I do sometimes say that my music is music of minimal means maybe, but it's not minimalist. Because, especially in the last few years, it's more [like] I'm trying to just throw in all these different facets and ideas.

I - Could you see yourself existing within a certain kind of lineage? Acknowledging that nobody's sitting [in] a school, nobody's like a spectralist anymore or something, you know.

PE - I see myself sort of tied to strands slightly. Because I studied in The Hague, there is inevitable going to be ‘The Hague School’ tag, so that's a big one. However, over there, it's not like it was 25 or 30 years ago, where you have to write in a way that fitted in with these set of rules or in the vein of Louis Andriessen. It's changed a lot since then. But I obviously am part of that in some way. I did really like that kind of music before I studied there, and when I was there, I kind of really latched onto that.

But then equally, in a slightly contradictory way, I am slightly tied to the English, experimental composers of the 1960s and 70s. So I’m not maybe as aesthetically linked to them, I'd say, but I do like what they do. And again, I'm definitely not a Wandelweiser composer, but I like bits of their practice, and I kind of implement some of their ideas in pieces. Equally, I've used spectralism slightly as a reference point, although I don’t think I have ever truly committed to it. So generally with my approach, I am just poaching ideas and aspects from these different lineages.

I - Could you talk through the pragmatic aspects of making a work for yourself? Maybe talk about a work you've made recently and how does it begin? How do you start generating material?

PE - Of course, so there's one piece that I composed earlier this year, which had a very slow and [kind of] bitty process. And there's another piece I did before that, which I wrote at the end of last year, [where] the turnaround time was quite a bit quicker. So maybe I could sort of talk through both.

So the two pieces were audio visual. The newer piece, which is actually the piece that had I started much further back, began after a residency that in did in Tilburg in The Netherlands back in 2022, where I had met and collaborated with one of saxophonists there [Dauphine Van der Velphen], after that project, we were keen to work together again.

So usually with these projects, either they approach me or I meet them through something or sometimes I do actually approach people as well because I see them, either at a show of theirs or they just kind of pop up on social media [I] appreciate what they do. And these are usually more emerging ensembles or artists rather than more established names because that's obviously a bit more of a navigation to get through. While smaller or lesser known emerging groups, it's a bit easier to navigate that process sometimes.

And so it's a case of just meeting them and then talking through ideas, because I typically work very well from just getting as much info from them as possible, in terms of like, ‘okay, if you're premiering this piece, what's going to be in the programme, or what are you planning to have in the programme? Is there a theme to that? Is there this? Is there that? Do you have rep you've got from other things?’

And then in terms of generating material, there's things like,‘oh, what do you like playing? What do you hate playing? What techniques do you like playing? What techniques do you hate playing? And that influences it obviously.

Then you take the instruments, you can go through all the techniques they do, or the things they're good at and things they're not good at, then use what the performers have said and try and find the spot where they fit together, and if there's any sort of extra musical ideas based off the theme of the concert or the event, or if there's a thing maybe I've done and I want to like doit from another angle…

So two pieces last year, one was about neoliberalism, the fall of that, and the crumbling of that. And then to follow on from that, I did a piece which is more about, it was called 'Moments of Escapist Thoughts', and it was basically [about] like escaping the busyness of the modern world. I asked the three performers ‘okay, what are your escapist things? Just like mundane objects or things. And they were all these random things like, ‘oh, I like to have a coffee, or go into the woods for a walk, or eat some popcorn’ and these kinds of things.

So all these random items were then included as part of the video. And again, as I said earlier, I asked them about techniques and ideas, and also they chipped in things that they were keen to explore, so that obviously then came into the piece.

So while I'm starting a piece from the offset, I'm trying to get information from them usually, when it's a more collaborative thing. And then I start to build that in as I'm writing. Then because that piece was kind of visual elements, it was [about] finding locations. The performers all chipped in ideas [of] where they would be. So I did a half a day with one of the performers, just filming these objects in the woods, and that was really nice because it was a way for me to get to know them more as well. So again, going back to composition almost being socialist, it kind of can be in that way, part of the process.

Then it was just a case [of], after the chats, now it's my time to just lock away and lock in and build this thing from all the information I've got. Because obviously you can keep checking and asking and doing this and that, but you need at least a point where you kind of actually just step away and lock in and make it happen.

I - Are you a fairly intuitive kind of writer, or are you using procedures or thinking about some kind of rules?

PE - A lot, not all the time, but a lot of the time, structurally I'm quite intuitive, it's quite material led. So it's kind of based off of how things flow from one to the next. I've noticed the freer flowing pieces are definitely when I'm doing that more material led music, I guess slightly narrative driven, not like this and then this, but like this will change into this and then we'll change into this and maybe will divert slightly. But then once you’ve got used to that, it’ll become part of the whole framework.

But then, saying that, in the past I've done more choppier things, I've planned like this many bars, this will happen, then this will happen, then… So it does depend really. I think it's just, I've been, in my process, using more intuitive led [thinking], the structure or the form coming out of the material writing. But then in terms of things like pitch, that's often intuitive, but then sometimes how I extend that material, it becomes a bit more like, ‘oh, I did this, I'll do this or…’ Again, in a way the pre compositional chats or the process chats, that's a process in a way. You know, it's like, ‘oh, if they like that, I'll do that then.’ ‘They don't like this, oh, I might not.’ ‘They say they don't like doing tremolos, but these tremolos on a bass clarinet and the cello sound really good, so I'm going to do a tremolo here, sorry,’ type thing.

On the surface that was very intuitive, but then I've got smaller processes that [are] not overarching pre-planned grand things, but they almost aid quick decision making. Or when I’m stuck, they aid me to move forward. It's like, ‘oh, I'm really stuck, I don't know what to do.’ ‘Oh, just do this then. Or there's this thing I did before, this thing in the other piece someone else did, I don't know… I'll try that in here.’

I - You were talking before about some conceptual material behind the pieces. How do you navigate the relationship between the abstract nature of musical material and conceptual ideas?

PE - I think things like visuals do help aid that actually, a lot. So there's a piece I did a few years ago called 'Objects and Portrait Projections', and that's kind of a funny one because it uses these plastic bottles and then plastic canisters, and the early version uses pots, but that got taken off, it's like an optional element. But then to aid it there's also in the visuals these stock footage videos of plastic pollution. So even though in the title and the program I don't really refer to the piece as being… So the piece is kind of a duality thing, it's sort of about COVID and sort of about plastic pollution, and then also sort of about an object piece.

So sometimes when I do things, it's a bit vague and I wouldn't say I'm a conceptual composer and fully commit to that being the highest thing. I'm much more material driven, I think. But when I do put extra musical ideas in, I usually try and put them in in the more overt ways, and then let the material be a bit more unaffected by it if I can.

That being said, again contradictory, that piece about about Neo Liberalism, Broken Superficiality, that was a lot more abstract in nature. But I do state ‘I use like these sounds and [these] kinds of pitch bends and all these things, like decaying and kind of straining,’ but these material that also [are] slightly straining for the saxophonists as being the conception of, and influencing the material, or how the material wrote the material kind of thing. It was like, ‘oh, this is the idea, and then that's going to influence all the material.’ So it’s again a precursor to that, rather than kind of going, ‘oh, it's got to be about like this, so I’ve got to like change this and change that.’ It was like, ‘oh, this is the thing, this will influence this.’

Whereas definitely in the past as a student, I think I did pieces where this is this and material must be this like, if it doesn't fit to that, then it's not... But then I got more picky and material driven I think after a while, and then it was kind of like, well, if I have a concept idea, it can't completely dictate… just because I'm more playful and exploratory with the material when I'm writing nowadays. So I don't like having too much set in stone from the beginning.

I - Yeah, it has to sit on its own terms.

PE - The best thing is if both can coexist, and you write great material, and it still shows the point. But whether I've done that much is a different question, I guess. I've attempted at least.

I - I think you've already talked a little bit about working directly with players where you can and using that as a point for generating material or at least understanding what's possible and what's going to work well? What are your feelings about player mediation and that moment in which the piece, maybe it grows or maybe it changes or dies?

PE - Well, when you say dies, what do you mean by that? Like, oh, I can't actually play this…

I - Yeah, maybe death is indicating something really bad, or maybe it's more just there's an idea that might have been pure before it was mediated that no longer exists. Now there is a new thing, which is the performance of the piece, which is partially the players, partially yourself, like you [were] saying.

PE - I guess with that, once you've done the writing and then they've performed it once, and then it's lucky to get a few performances more, it then takes on its own life. It's like another thing. I actually interviewed a pianist last year named Zubin Kanga and he was advocating for multiple performances of new works. And he was said that it’s only after around five performances that you start get the hang of the piece and begin to see into the world of composer.

That’s kind of interesting on that point, if it does get multiple performances, it does grow into something else. Because it goes to all these places and it's different acoustics or the performer might performer the work slightly differently, or they might even make a mistake which changes the material ever so slightly. Even after the first performance, the performers could turn around and say, ‘oh, that was great, but this could be changed,’ and that's the thing where they're still involved in this actively growing, changing thing.

I - It's interesting that there are composers whose works are the subject of scholarship, right? The performance of the work is its own field of study. And so, of course, there's going to be some amazing growth for that, whereas for most composers it's a once-off thing. Luckily, hopefully it goes well…

PE - If you have a new piece premiered, but the performance doesn't go out as you hoped, and then it's not played again, it's becomes locked into that. I'm sure every composer has a piece where, I certainly do, and close friends who are composers certainly do, where there's a piece [where] the performance kind of ruined how that is perceived, [and] actually, the piece is better than, or they believe the piece is better than how the performance turned out, type of thing. It's not blaming the performer or anything, but it just didn't quite work out, but then sadly it wasn't performed again, so it's just stuck as that.

In terms of earlier on in the process, as you mentioned, I'm kind of happy for them to input, especially because you're writing for live instruments, but also people really, and if you have the luxury and the time and the accommodation from them to be collaborative I try and utilize that.

It's more enjoyable for me as well, because there are more twists and turns, and you go sometimes to places which you wouldn't have done otherwise. You can obviously use systems or try and think a bit deeper to not use your default, go to things that you do in a composition, but then sometimes asking a performer it’s kind of like they take you, you're over here, and then they go, ‘oh, what about over here,’ and then you go, ‘oh, okay,’ and then that comes into here. I relish that, I enjoy that, more and more and more.

I don't really like it when it's just me in my room doing the thing alone. The more they put in, and put bollards or whatever [up] for me to swerve around, the better actually I think, in the process and the piece.It was also interesting, because I do interviewing quite a lot, but a friend I interviewed earlier this year, he said about how he was quoting his dad, and he was mentioning about a sort of what influences his composition, and he says when you hear someone's piece and [feel] like ‘oh, how did you think of that?’ And you're completely blown away by it as an audience member, but to them, they sort of [feel] like, ‘oh, it's just really obvious to me,’ kind of thing.

It's sort of like that with performers. I guess for most of Escapist Thoughts, I was sending a few ideas and sketches and techniques to the bass clarinetist [Alex Lyon], and she was like, ‘oh, that doesn’t really quite work, but [what] I guess is really obvious to me is this technique,’ and I was like, ‘I would have never considered that at all, and for you that's just like second nature type of thing.’

It's stuff she would have learned either from her performance degree, or just through her work or online, but it's just second nature to her now, and I was like, ‘oh, that's amazing,’ but obviously to her it’s just an obvious thing.

But to go back to the question, I do love when there's those sorts of changes, and again you're writing for people, not just instruments. It's different when you are working with electronics because that’s more about your own relationship and exploration with the software or the equipment. But you're still working closely with a thing, it very much just does what you say.

For a composer and their working process, the best kinds of performers are those who are active during the writing and will be opinionated with the material that you have written before it gets completed.

I - Are your works primarily for like a live experience, bodies in the room?

PE - Definitely. I think it's kind of funny, because that's what's kept me writing for live musicians, because I just enjoy the process and then being in the room, it's very niche and to most people, almost a bit of an alien situation where, because a lot of people understand someone performing their own songs, but obviously, some people, even people who work in the arts, other art forms are still like, ‘oh, that thing still exists where people write on notation, and then they're not even conducting or performing, they're just sitting in the room, or not even in the room sometimes.’ I just really enjoyed that actually, the process and everything aside, I actually just enjoy that because in a way you wrote it for yourself, and it's like, I want to experience that myself, and then hopefully the bonus is that it works. Performers enjoy playing it, it fits with the night or it complements the program, and the audience enjoy it, they're the bonuses. I'd say it's like you, then the performers/the concert, then the audience, I think.

I - Are you thinking about your practice over the long term? Are you looking at what you've done, reacting to it, thinking about what you want to do later?

PE - I think I'm always looking at it and then reflecting. How do I do this? How do I do that? And then bringing different things in sometimes, taking things out as well, that's important.

I think the taking out is a bit less conscious, you do it subconsciously, like, ‘oh, I've done this thing a lot, I need to twist it a bit.’ Because, you said what is composition to you earlier, and it’s like, that's also kind of composition, this long-term breadth of work, this kind of, ‘I'm reacting to this, and this, and this,’ and maybe a year, 10 years ago, [and] this piece was really random because it was almost out of context for everything else, but then you start doing things near to that later down the line, and it starts to make the dots connect a bit more.

So, yeah, I do see it as a long-term practice, and more and more, I do find things that are longer-term much more fulfilling, even if it's a commission piece, I don't go, ‘oh, I need to fulfil a commission,’ it's like no, it still needs to fit within this limit, because there's a reason why they’ve approached me, or they're willing to put something on the line, they're entrusting me to do something, and a lot of those folks will know they don't want a typical thing you've done already, they almost want you to do the thing that is a bit different and fits the thing, but it pushes it further. Because then they will be like, ‘well, we commissioned this piece, we were the ones who made them do this, we did this,’ kind of thing, you know.

I think it's important to continually use that as reference, and I don't always think of that really overtly and deeply when I'm writing, but it's always there in the back of my mind, I think. It's not like when, as a student, where you're like, ‘oh, I'll try this, and I'll do,’ a spectral piece, and then an electronic piece, and then.. that's very good for exploring and stuff, and in some ways you go ‘oh, I'll try this thing into what I do,’ but [I’m] always bringing elements in now, rather than ‘I'm gonna do a serial piece or something.’

That being said, I'm not like, ‘oh, I can't do this because I do this type thing as well.’ It's very fluid, and trying things is always important and good and keeps everything moving forwards.

I - What have been some musical trends for your practice over the last five years?

PE - Definitely ingratiating audiovisual practices into my work. There's a project I'm probably doing next year, [and] I was talking to the curator / ensemble leader about it, and they're like, ‘We’ve got a concert taking place in April next year that will be right up your street, it's an audiovisual and objects concert,’ he was like ‘that's king of like your thing,’ and I was thinking after the conversation, that's really funny because six years ago that was not my work at all. It’s almost like someone, not in a bad way, but like this pigeonhole of ‘this will be your thing.’ It was really interesting, actually.

So I’ve definitely been working in the audiovisual realm a lot, Objects and Portrait Projections was the first work of these, a few years prior, I did some practice things for modules with visuals, but just for a course during my master’s. But Objects and Portrait Projections was the first work with video I did, and I've done like four pieces since, and you know, I'm not writing lots and lots in a year, it's fairly steady at the moment. So four over a few years is like, that’s enough to be part of what I do now.

I mean I always dabbled with fixed electronics for fixed media for a long time, but it was always on the occasional piece, like I mentioned earlier about doing a piece that just sticks out at first, but then you do it a bit more later, and it's like, ‘oh, it's a precursor to this.’ [I’ve] done a lot of things with fixed media, but you talk about trajectory, but [the] next steps is just using live a bit more, just because I for some reason early on, I was quite terrified of it, or just what I had, I didn't… the things that I had live, I just didn't like, but my opinion on that’s completely changed, and I do want to delve into that a bit more, and things like the visuals as well, I kind of delve into using different cameras now as well, so even though that's… but again we we're talking about the what is composition thing earlier, jumping again, me going ‘instead of using my phone camera, I'm going to buy this old camera,’ that's a compositional choice, and that's an aesthetic thing, just moving into that kind of thing, and there's obviously going to be themes around that.

Musically, though, because a lot of my music early on was very contained, and I talked again about music of minimal means, and being very limited material, some development, sometimes there'll be very harsh sectional jumps, juxtapositions. So those are very minimal flowing or harsh jumps, and it's kind of moved into a hybrid, where I'll do a thing and it'll slowly change, and at some point, I'm just going that way now, just like change all of a sudden.

I think, because I've just done so much of this really contained or juxtaposy thing, but I want to just do something where it's this thing, and then just jumps somewhere else, and then maybe it goes back slightly, but with a different angle, just I'm playing with, like I said earlier, the structure is generally intuitive material that I do consciously put these interruptions or these switches in a bit more now, just because I've done so much music, which slowly diverts or jumps around, you know.

I - Yeah, finding a third way. Do technologies, it's too broad of a term, are there digital technologies that enter into your work, enter into your compositional practice that aren't just being used to generate sound? So, is there anything you use that actually is involved with how you generate material?

PE - Typically not, I think. Like with fixed media I do use things to expand the sound world, but that's based off material that I either wrote or generated, and then it’s just extended the sound. It's like orchestrating the sound out, but instead of being live instruments, it's fixed electronics or doubling or doing the same pitch but tuned differently. I don't think so, no.

I - And formal procedures aren't really a big part of your process anyway? You're more intuitive?

PE - I’m more intuitive, typically don't use an algorithm or anything. I have dabbled with it a long time ago, but generally, no.

I - Do you see anything around you that's happening? That's of the moment? How do you see the scene? Like, how have you seen the scene evolve around you?

PE - That's a weird one, because I've jumped location a few times over the last 10 years. I've lived in four different places in 10 years, so I haven't really seen a scene grow, because a lot of the time a scene grows out of nothing, gets to a point, and then dies off, because sometimes it's just people move away, simple as that, but sometimes it's a bit more slightly depressing, like there's a series, but then the funding stops, and then they had to stop the series, and then that lack of funding just stops the scene completely. Yeah, there was definitely like 10 years ago the composer-performer thing, but I’ve seen a lot more people adopting that in the more DIY things. Sometimes the composer-performer is actually a performer who's composing rather than a composer-performer. In the bigger ensemble-orchestral stuff I've heard people say there’s almost a generational split between, it doesn't quite split like millennial/gen Z, but it’s somewhere in between, before and after the lines. It depends on the person as well, there was a guy, and this is quite a London-centric thing, who's about five years or so older, who said that the ‘older generation’ were looking at British modernist composers, or a second wave of them, and then they would, in the post-modern way, tap into these other things, and then bring them in from research, or just it was in their background, but it was still the approach of ‘I'm doing a classical piece, but bringing this non-classical thing into classical.’ But this guy said now there's a new generation [and] they’re not bringing it into classical, it's all just free-for-all, and they're not bringing like football chants [into a] piece, it's like the football chant is the piece-type thing.

It's maybe not aesthetically different, but it's a mentality shift I think. It's not age-specific or generation-specific, but I see myself a bit more in the newer camp generally. But then I've been doing that kind of thing, thinking that way [for] a long time, but it seems more commonplace and normalized now, compared to composers who have been on the circuit [for] 15 [or] 20, 25+ years or something. That's one thing, for sure.

Also there's a lot of, because people like Matthew Shlomowtiz and Jennifer Walsh and all these New Discipline people are quite established now and big. Again, I was at a DIY thing last week and there were a few things like that, where there's these different elements. There was a guy who took these YouTube videos about London and had all these videos [with] very few views but they're just on YouTube, and he took them as source material and then wrote material to enhance or narrate around these clips.

Yeah, I don't know to be honest, I don't think there's a particular aesthetic or thing, I think the changes are more mentality and approach, generally.

I mean maybe you could say that contextually, maybe there's more composer-performer stuffbecause in most countries, even the countries with the bigger arts funding, the arts funding is just dwindling everywhere. Because for the last 10 years, it was always [the] UK, US, the more anglicized countries that are moaning about arts funding, and Germany, and Netherlands, and France have this and we’re so jealous, but now even they're having funding cuts, so it's dwindling all across the board.

But people are turning to wearing more hats, like they're curating as well as being composer-performers. The social media boom has led to composers becoming their own marketers as well, and there's some people who are actually really good at that, they've really utilised that, and that's quite a creative compositional outlet, like people have done things using those platforms in a really creative way as well.

'Between Two Trios, by Patrick Ellis (an English composer I will talk about later), an (austere but unusual) exercise that mixes two string trios (one in front of our eyes, the other pre-recorded), with the tuning differing of a micron-tone and which, in its own way, pays tribute, by its incessant tremolos and its construction of "wall of sound", to the shoegaze guitars of the turn of the century.'

'Patrick Ellis' play, with a philosophical-political claim, plunges his sound research into the glory years of neo-liberalism: the 1970/1980 axis, with the leading figures of an economy freed from the weight of the social state, individualist (selfish), free (devoid of solidarity), privatized (the benefit of a few at the expense of all others), consumerist (regardless of resource exhaustion), Ronald Reagan in the United States, Margaret Thatcher in England - and Guy Verhofstad in Belgium, nicknamed Baby Thatcher for his radical views on the economy. Broken Superficiality succeeds, with its sounds, its timbres, made to shine like the light for moths - so attractive, so deadly - to immerse us in a bubble, irresistible and repulsive at the same time: the beginning is painful, so sharp that it attacks, the pursuit, made of developments of repeated elements, juxtaposed, of a slow passage from very high to very serious, twists like the tunnel boring machine grinds the rock; respite is a notion that the the ruthless English composer does not practice.'

'Ellis' work also convinces me. Of the five, he is the most politically pronounced, and fair is fair, those kinds of composers always have a dash in front of me. It comes out better one time than the other. In the 'Objects and Portrait Projections' performed last night, it went very well. The play is about the still growing problem of plastic waste, something that we see not only through video footage, but also by letting the three percussionists play scaffolding with plastic bottles. And if it also, as is certainly the case here, results in a fascinating piece related to minimal music, the party is completely complete.'

'Between two trios' is the name of Ellis' piece. We hear a string trio playing live and one digital, with a difference in mood between those two trios. This has the effect that in this highly flowing piece, the digitally recorded sounds act as a kind of shadow, something that, together with that rather monotonous, but rhythmic music, creates a strong tension.

Interview from De Link Tilburg with Dauphine Van der Velpen of the Tantrum Saxophone Quartet and Merijn Bisschops about the 2022 De Link & Academy of Music and Performing Arts in Tilburg.

De Link, Tilburg, May 3, 2022

Together with the Academy of Music and Performing Art (AMPA) in Tilburg, De Link also organizes residencies for composers and performing musicians. Last year the English composer Patrick Ellis was supposed to be a guest, but of course that never happened. Yesterday, however, the world premiere of his 'Fractured Motion' by the Tantrum Saxophone Quartet took place . Before the intermission, pianist María Dominguez gave a recital with three pieces by composers whose style matched Ellis very well: Christopher Cerrone , Steve Reich and Pierre Jodlowski .

What does an almost deserted subway station sound like in the middle of the night? According to Cerrone, this produces hushed, fanning out notes. We hear that in 'Hoyt-Schermerhorn', also the name of a subway station in Brooklyn, New York. Then a weak melody unfolds that invites you to melancholy musings. Until the train arrives, the high note that is constantly struck and electronically amplified, makes that clear. Now go inside. We know Reich, Dominguez plays 'Piano Counterpoint', an arrangement of 'Six Pianos'. Four parts are played through the loudspeakers, two are played live. Always funny to hear an entire ensemble while you only see one musician. We get carried away by Reich's hallucinatory patterns. And how strongly percussive that music sounds, even though we are talking about purely pianos here. Jodlowski also works for 'Série blanche' with a pre-recorded part, a very even, very rhythmic one. The live part initially joins in very modestly, later on it becomes more and more powerful and dominant. But the most special thing is that those two parties are increasingly chafing with each other, getting in each other's way.

Ellis wrote his piece in close consultation with the musicians of the Tantrum Saxophone Quartet, something we see more and more often among contemporary composers. It led to a particularly ingenious and compelling piece. It all seems very simple what Ellis does, but appearances can be deceiving here too. The musicians sit in cross shape and we are in four blocks behind it. And behind that are four screens on which video images are projected, black and white images where it is not always entirely clear what they are about. Beautiful images, evoking nostalgia, but in all honesty I do not fully see the added value. The music consists of two tracks. The first sounds fairly constant and consists of electronics and digitally recorded percussion, it most resembles a constantly running machine. The second track comes from the four saxophonists and has some of the surf. The sounds come and go and each wave sounds rhythmic, except at the end, when we hear the abstraction. That goes on for minutes and could have gone on for much longer. You're just not getting into a trance. In the last phrase the dynamics change, the music here I rather associate with clouds moving past, a phrase that is again far too short.

Max Majorana: Hey Patrick, thanks for taking the time. I'd like to learn a bit more about your upcoming residency at De Link, but would like to start this section, as usual, by asking if you can introduce yourself through an early musical memory.

Patrick Ellis: I remember my younger brother and I used to have a tape recorder, red and gray, and one tape that we played countless times. There was all kinds of stuff from the 80s on it, Madonna and UB40 anyway.

MM: Did you only listen to that at home?

PE: Yes, actually we do, although we sometimes dragged the thing around the house to make the most of its portability. Very luxurious.

MM: That luxurious feeling seems to have diminished now that technology advances means that almost everything fits in your pocket. I can even look at you right now as we are hundreds of miles apart. Because you've moved back to Oxford, haven't you?

PE: Near Oxford, indeed. I actually live again near the region where I was born, the county of Surrey. As a little boy I also spent two years in Singapore and went to study at the conservatory in Birmingham. In Birmingham I eventually took the path to the Netherlands.

MM: How come?

PE: Many of my teachers in England studied in The Hague twenty years ago, so the conversation often turned to what was going on in Dutch music. I became more and more curious about that and as far as I know there are warm ties between the two institutions to this day. In particular, Maya Verlaak and Luke Deane inspired me to cross the Channel and engage in cultural exchange.

MM: How long have you actually lived in The Hague?

PE: From the summer of 2017 to mid-2019 I have been back there since, but the last time was for a rehearsal that would no longer be followed; by the time the concert was to take place, the first lockdown had begun.

MM: The Rewire festival recently took place there again.

PE: There was no sign of that so characteristic panic from March 2020. I saw Meredith Monk perform there, but unfortunately I've never been to Rewire myself. What I do like about the Netherlands is that the music culture shows such great diversity and is spread over different places. In England it is different; not that all festivals and concert series take place in London, but when it comes down to it: most of them do.

MM: Well, that's relative, of course. In the time it takes you to travel from the north to the south of London, you have already arrived in Tilburg by train from The Hague. Do you actually have a connection with the city in which De Link is located?

PE: Well, not really yet, although at the beginning of 2019 the piece Unfolding Chamber Piece of mine was performed by Kluster5. I now hope to change that quickly by coming to work in the city for at least a week soon. I then stay with the friendly people of SEA Foundation and work in the Cenakel during the day. In the meantime I also got to know Nicoline (Soeter, former artistic director De Link, MM) and Remy (Alexander, artist-in-residence 2020, MM) a bit better.

MM: Your residency at De Link was supposed to take place in 2021, but was forced to postpone. What is the most important insight you have gained as a composer during the pandemic?

PE: I soon realised that live music would only be played online for the time being. As a counterbalance, I started thinking more thoroughly about how to optimise the live experience for both players and spectators. The performative aspect has become much more important to me than before. Incidentally, I also believe that sitting still and reflecting on the pandemic has made me more productive as a composer.

MM: Your work has become multidisciplinary?

PE: Yes something like that. There is a little more dramaturgy involved. When I was back in a hall after a long, concert-less period, I noticed that I was hyper-alert to everything that happened on stage, but also around me. For me personally, it therefore felt like the right time to start integrating projections into the performances of my work, and experimenting with alternative arrangements. I first did that when I was working on 'Objects & Portrait Projections', a piece for the Dutch ensemble XTRO, for three percussionists. It's like a new dimension was unlocked for me. I also want to achieve that with the public. The question of how a listener physically experiences a piece of music is now more interesting to me than before.

MM: And that also involves the necessary dramaturgy. In that sense, your residency at De Link comes at the right time. You will soon receive the keys to the Cenacle to take in the space for a week. Certainly, my working method was not that well developed last year; I suppose I would have gotten less out of it then.

...

MM: Do you actually have a favourite musical line-up for which you write? Your latest work will be performed by the saxophone quartet Tantrum.

PE: Percussion, saxophone, or large orchestras; that doesn't really matter to me. When the preparatory collaboration with musicians is pleasant, it pushes the end result to greater heights.

MM: For example, what was the attraction for you to write a piece for found objects, such as plastic bottles?

PE: That is just such an example of mutual influence. Personally, from a conceptual point of view, I find it very exciting to release musical parameters on objects that are outside such a context, in order to give them a new purpose. And then the guys from XTRO came up with those empty PET bottles and the lighting plan. Quite photogenic too, if I may say so.

MM: I've seen another video of yours, Around the Clocks, a kind of marathon piece performed in the open air of Dublin as part of the Biosphere Festival. That had nothing to do with the ambient producer under the same alias, but all the more with climate change. Would you actually label yourself as a politically engaged artist?

PE: I could certainly do that, but isn't every artist? In a sense, Louis Andriessen also made political choices by writing for a certain occupation. I am careful not to burden my audience with explicit political opinions. I don't believe that's an artist's job – although there is no doubt always some of my personal conviction seeping into my work.

MM: May I compliment you on your politically correct answer?

PE: Haha! Well, of course climate change as a theme is a hot political issue, but that's not something I came up with myself. I would say that precisely when it comes to something as ubiquitous and complex as climate change, the question should not so much be what your point of view as an artist or spectator is, but whether it can still be influenced at all.

MM: For the residency you work together with the Tantrum Saxophone Quartet, which was founded in Tilburg. Have you composed for reed players before?

PE: Yes, but that was a while ago, about seven years ago, when I was still a student. I have written for ensembles that also include saxophonists, such as Orkest de Ereprijs and Kluster5. When Merijn (artistic director De Link, MM) proposed to link me to Tantrum, I thought it would be nice to give it another try. On the one hand I like to write for various line-ups, but a quartet with similar instruments is quite a challenge in a different way.

MM: Is the piece finished yet? Are you just going to see how you can add it to the specific location of the Cenacle?

PE: I usually don't start from an overarching idea, but gradually combine several perspectives while trying out. So no, the piece is definitely not finished yet, it won't get its solid form and structure until May 3^rd.

MM: Because that has to do with the image material to be used, the acoustics of the room, et cetera?

PE: Indeed, for me the aesthetics of the video screens and the texture of the quartet are also important factors. Now that I work in a way that is no longer purely musical, I try to make it really holistic. I've studied De Link's YouTube channel in preparation and I've also talked about it a bit with Remy, but it's still an adventure to get everything right.

MM: A little sneak peek of the veil, because I've already had a look at the technical rider: the sound speakers will soon be in the middle of the room, the projections will be set up behind the four musicians, and the working title is Fractured Motion. But what kind of footage are you going to use?

PE: Provided: everything can still change. But the idea now is to use forgotten, royalty-free images that I've dug up online in old archives. All black and white, many overlaps, a nice representation of the mundane life of the 50s and 60s of the last century, at least in my opinion. Ultimately, I leave the narrative to the individual spectator.

MM: Is composing soundtracks for film an ambition of yours? Your fellow townsman Jonny Greenwood has grown up with it in recent years, and I also hear some cinematic qualities in your music.

PE: Currently I prefer to write music for concert performances. But never say never; If the right filmmaker approaches me at the right time, I'll certainly consider it. For now, however, I prefer to keep the reins in my own hands. Or it should be the other way around; I first deliver music, after which a film-maker gets to work with it. That would be a fun experiment.In any case, I wish you the best of luck during your week at the Cenacle and look forward to the performance.

MM: What is the first thing you will do after you set foot on the Dutch shore?

PE: You may not believe it, but I really like the Earl Grey from Albert Heijn much better than what I can get in my homeland. I will definitely take some back with me afterwards.

Laura Sinnerton - Inner Voices Review

The viola is conventionally an instrument that thrives in company and doesn’t crave the limelight. But, faced with current social restraints, lrish musician Sinnerton responded by inviting six composers to write solos for her instrument. Here she performs those commissions, rising to the assorted technical and interpretive challenges they pose. Sinnerton’s resourcefulness and clarity of articulation shine through, whether multitracked on Jimena Maldonado’s Where There Was Wood Is Now Water, flexing to catch the graceful choreography of Carlijn Metselaar’s Lift, or accompanying her own spoken delivery of Emily Abdy’s monologue Ruminant. With further pieces contributed by Sarah Lianne Lewis, Anselm McDonnell and Patrick Ellis, this is a welcome gathering of emergent compositional voices, as well as a showcase for a reticent solo instrument.

From The Wire - Issue 451, September 2021

BRC: Thinking of the album as a listener yourself, what stands out for you in the pieces you recorded?

LS: So many things! With Patrick [Combinations, Phrases, track 9] it was his courage to just take these simple cells and just let them be. It’s so sparse but yet there’s this undercurrent of movement, and I think that’s really brave especially for a younger composer. There can often be the temptation to throw the kitchen sink at something, but Patrick is just like ‘no, I’m not going to do that’, and it’s wonderful. His piece is quite hypnotic...

...

BRC: Is there anything that you experienced in the music of these composers that perhaps you haven’t encountered before in the work of more established names in the field?

LS: With Sarah in particular there’s this idea of metamorphosis. Her piece Weathering [track 7] is about an object that you find on the shore that has been one thing in the past but that’s been weathered away into something else. I wonder if this idea of change is a preoccupation in the younger generation in society in general, this idea of us living through a period of flux. This is also something that comes across in Patrick’s Combinations, Phrases [track 9] too, because although the building blocks of it look quite simple there’s a slow progression and development over time with it.

Read the Full Article Here from Page 94

Interview in June 2019 with Alfian Emir Adytia about 'Three Mostly Bowed Strings' (2019) and the collaboration process between composer and performer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?...

A short interview with Beppie Schalken, the trombonist of the Orkest de Ereprijs about 'Ruin' (2019) which was composed for the 25^th Edition of the Orkest de Ereprijs Young Composers' Meeting in Apeldoorn.

Interview with Wilf Amis about repetition, my compositions and more!

Music played:

Patrick Ellis - Unfolding Chamber Piece

Hella - Biblical Violence

Gábor Lázár - Crisis of Representation 1

Julia Wolfe - Stronghold (pt.1)

Julius Eastman - Stay On It [extract]

Eliane Radigue - Kyema [extract]

Robert Crehan - Kaleidoscope 2

Listen in full: https://www.mixcloud.com/wilfa...

Composer Patrick Ellis is a Royal Birmingham Conservatoire composition department graduate and current postgraduate student at the Royal Conservatory of The Hague. As someone who studied alongside him, his affinity for interesting conversation surrounding his craft and his experiences studying composition both here and abroad meant I wanted to produce some content from an interview with him, almost regardless of what musical area it may fall into. It turns out, his interest was in exploring the idea of community within the composition department. The result was a comparison of our paths to finding our composition community, what this did for our compositional practice and how it affected the quality of our conservatoire experience in general.

I learned his early dabbles in composition sparked from his frustration at having to play the music in his trumpet lessons the way he was told it should be. He would subtly deviate from the written notes on the page, such as from a B natural to a B-flat, to the annoyance of his teacher: ‘What are you doing? You can’t do that.’ The ironic thing is he could and he did. Throughout our conversation, the same theme of, for want of a better phrase, ‘creative repression’ kept recurring. He didn’t speak fondly of pastiche composition and the restrictions that GCSE and A level music place on what should be an explorative activity. I also remember this feeling well, but also felt a sense of guilt at this inclination, as many people don’t get the opportunity to study music at school at all.

Luck of the draw?

I found it unusual that Patrick said he knew he wanted to study composition going into sixth form. He does believe he was fortunate, as he studied his A levels alongside a small group of composers who even had their own ensemble, allowing him to explore open scores at a stage where I wouldn’t have even known they existed. I was surprised at the sheer existence of them, but the composers that he felt gave him his first sense of ‘community’ were still few. They included a friend the year above him in sixth form and, later, another now Royal Birmingham Conservatoire graduate Dan Cippico, who he would continue to work with during his further studies. They weren’t the only two from our department to have previously known each other, which raised the question as to whether your likeliness to go on to study at a conservatoire is largely defined by the environment you develop in.

The overall vibe of his early community heavily contrasted with mine which consisted of the open mic organisers, participators and audiences. I was lucky in another way, as I had supportive family and elders who encouraged my singing and songwriting and were more than happy for me to pursue a creative route once I had finished compulsory education. However, the secondary school prided itself on its reputation for producing a stage musical of significant quality each year, so the focus was very much on performance arts opposed to anyone working constructively in music behind the scenes.

We were all in a band…

Then he said the fateful words: ‘I was in a band’. (Weren’t we all?). That’s where we had a little more in common than I first expected. Patrick said he’s recognised three common routes when it comes to student finding their way into composition.

A- Learning a classical instrument then beginning to write on it

B- Being into film music then realising you can take that into the concert hall

C- Rock music…

Both Patrick and I seem to be combinations of A and C, he on the violin and I on the trumpet. 70s rock instrumentals and the influence of improvisatory groups on these artists seemed to be the main factors. Although probably not as adventurous as most contemporary instrumental groups, I recognised nu-metal band Slipknot as an introduction to less commercial musical characteristics for me, despite them actually being a highly successful commercial band in the metal scene. Less common time signatures, rhythms, structures, instrumentation and a fusion of musical genres being some of them. We realised it isn’t merely coincidental though. Patrick talked of the influence on Pink Floyd’s Syd Barrett from seeing free improvisation group AMM live in London in the 1960s.

The department community experience

For me, conservatoires and composition had never been a definite, my current institution being the only one I applied for alongside a host of universities well regarded for their music courses. For Patrick, composition had become a goal a lot earlier but he claimed his ‘epiphany’ came when his grades at the end of his first year of sixth form were lower than expected and the Russell group universities with academically based courses seemed to no longer be the correct fit for him. We both agreed that the main thing that swayed us towards Birmingham was how comfortable we felt when visiting and at our application interviews. It was the first time I felt I had met people who were genuinely interested in me as a composer and as a person. They pulled out my hastily produced album of acoustic songs that I had thrown into every portfolio submission on a whim and said they wanted more of it, wanted to know what it was and why it was in there. They didn’t try to streamline me to their vision and I appreciated that.

Not that there had been much disagreement up to this point, but Patrick and I really do see eye to eye when it came to discussing how it felt to be part of the composition department community: more ‘us’ than ‘I’; more equal ground than students and teacher; more creative freedom than strict guidelines to tick certain criteria. It isn’t difficult to understand why when practically everyone knows each other, compared to friends I know studying English at university, a much busier course which means there are several different classes that never interact. Our weekly seminar and LAB sessions are a time each week when everyone is in the same room. We organise events amongst ourselves including regular platforms, festivals and one off concerts which seem to more often showcase ‘us’ as a department rather than celebrating individuals to the point where it becomes unhealthily competitive.

I always feel as though we support one another, rather than trying to bring each other down. This is something I feel is very important for creative individuals in a climate where we can often ‘die of exposure’ rather than get any significant or financial recognition for the time and effort that goes into our work. The nature of our course, having to write ‘x’ amount of minutes per year, also means that tutor-organised projects won’t fill your portfolio – we have to take initiative and find our own. So we are a comfortable unit but encouraged to be individuals within it.

Finding your musical feet

I was surprised to hear that Patrick had a similar experience of a delayed integration into our department community. During my time studying with him, he always seemed to be a very active member of the department, involved in most department events. He said he was very shy and quiet to begin with and didn’t feel fully part of the department community until his second year, before I had even enrolled. Being a fresher is a daunting experience in general, especially for introverts or those who are struggling with the sudden independence that university life brings.

We agreed conservatoire life is slightly friendlier to those who find nights out daunting, as we seem to have more contact hours which increases work load, longer days and the pressure to perform (such as a 9am bassoon lesson). It definitely won’t discourage people from partying but certainly makes them more understanding of how draining full time study can be. For me, it was personal circumstances and issues I had to face and grow from before I could feel like I was truly part of the community. You have to throw yourself in and get involved to get anything back from it, but the rewards do come thick and fast.

Emerging from the echo chamber

Growing with a similar group of people over the course of four years at a time when you’re discovering who you are as person and where you want to be is very much a bonding experience. This is what Patrick marked out as the main factor he found to be different studying his masters in the Netherlands compared to his undergraduate degree was that you have further room to experiment but more of an idea of your identity already, so you don’t grow with your colleagues so much. He described The Hague’s approach as still a community but more professional in its nature. He wouldn’t go to another student’s house one evening with a crate of beer to play one another’s pieces and jam for hours like he did over here. He told me freelance composition and his fourth year which was spent applying for an increased number of external callouts felt a very different experience.

As someone who was once scared to death of change, I am still habitually anxious when I think about where I will be after I finish my degree, but the breaking out of this musical echo chamber we’ve created does muster a kind of excitement. This is a chamber I feel our tutors are very much aware of when they invite composers from other institutions and backgrounds to talk to us and encourage us to go to external events, but it seems almost inevitable. As we are a department of mostly undergraduates at what could be viewed as a vulnerable age, finding your feet, I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing.

Crucial components

Although we had a slightly different experience of arriving in our composition communities, Patrick and I both agree that it was crucial to our development as composers. Having people around you who can give you advice and criticism to help you develop, appreciate the work you are putting in and validate that what you’re doing is worthwhile in a time when art is often viewed as less valuable can be crucial in keeping you going. I certainly wouldn’t have had the courage to write essay long blog posts and put videos of myself out into the public when I first arrived here, but I’m hoping that just shows the positive changes that can occur when you’re fortunate enough to have had this supportive community experience.

Four years in education can seem like a lifetime for some. For others it feels like it’s over before it even began! But what almost everyone can agree on is how different they are come the end of it.

Think back to when you were at college – what clothes did you wear? What music did you listen to? What were your big, philosophical questions?

Now go back to secondary school – I bet that third question hardly applies. And I can almost guarantee that you are embarrassed by the first two!

In his event called, 4 Years – 10 Minutes, Patrick Ellis has had the bold and “unique” idea to bring together the last four years of his composing career, which features some of his electronic and recorded music from the present day, back to 2011, when he was only 16 years old and had just finished his GCSE’s.

Patrick will allow one person at a time for the 10 minute performance in Studio 2 a Birmingham Conservatoire. This unique idea, combined with “atmospheric” lighting, will create an installation with a very personal feel, which Patrick believes “is important because a lot of things have happened in the past 4 years”. Now in his second year studying a BMus in Composition at Birmingham Conservatoire, Patrick is currently under the guidance of Séan Clancy, Ed Bennett and Andy Portas.

For a year or so now, Patrick has been interested in hosting an installation that showcases the music of one individual, and this opportunity appeared last year when Rosie Clements, director of the Frontiers Festival asked whether he wished to be involved in this year’s event listings. He jumped at the chance to be involved in what he sees as an “important platform” to demonstrate what he has been working on recently, but he also sees it as an opportunity to hear what his colleagues have been working on, and hopefully introduce himself and others to new musical ideas.

“Being part of a Festival like Frontiers is incredibly important for the Contemporary Music Scene as it shows to people how diverse and how much talent there is emerging/existing” – Patrick Ellis

4 Years – 10 Minutes takes place on 24 March from 3pm in Studio 2 at Birmingham Conservatoire and is free of charge. You can find out more about Patrick and his work on his SoundCloud.