In late March 1993, many train passengers probably had little idea what was happening to them when they walked into the imposing station hall of Antwerp Central. On their way to the platform, they were engulfed by the sound of an arsenal of clarinets, horns and percussion. They were witnessing the very first performance of Talisker. It was the spectacular opening event of Antwerp 93, a festival celebrating the city’s year as European Capital of Culture.
Luc Brewaeys, a self-assured spectralist
At a young age, Luc Brewaeys already stood out for his disarming combination of bravado and intellect. The various biographical texts published since his untimely death in 2015 paint a clear portrait of the composer as a generous, gifted and exceptionally creative personality. This image is reinforced by the many personal testimonies of those who worked closely with him. What constantly emerges are his enthusiasm, energetic passion, expertise, love of music and people, and his ability to enjoy life. All of these qualities are reflected in his music. Whether short occasional pieces or grand symphonies, each work is imbued with his unique personality.
Of course, personality alone does not build a musical language. For Luc Brewaeys, the key to composition lay in spectralism. In this movement, composers seek structures and sounds by analysing the internal structure of sound itself. The harmonic relationships between the various overtones that together determine a tone’s timbre form the starting point for diverse musical realisations. Brewaeys usually begins with a specific fundamental tone and constructs his musical vocabulary on the basis of the overtone series.
This fascination with sound translates not only into a thorough study of how sounds are constructed – the analysis – but also fuels the search for new, and often literally unheard-of sounds. These usually arise from the carefully calculated combination of classical instruments, creating a new overall sound from the sum of many small sound particles. In some cases, Brewaeys literally expanded his sonic arsenal with unusual instruments such as a bathtub, a heating-oil tank or a large metal rubbish container. The latter was in fact intended for Talisker, but fire safety regulations prevented it.
Resonance
The specific space for which Talisker was written would deter most composers. As in large cathedrals, the extremely long reverberation time of Antwerp’s vast station hall is an acoustic fact that cannot be switched off. But if you cannot change something, you can work with it. Luc Brewaeys therefore chose to embrace the reverberation time of more than eight seconds and to build his work around this fascinating acoustic phenomenon. It is telling that later that year he wrote his Fifth Symphony, using electronic means to create echoes and resonances. This symphony was named Laphroaig, like Talisker after a single malt whisky. Brewaeys was not trying to capture the character of the whisky in music, but just like these complex spirits, his music calls for attentive, curious tasting and an openness to unfamiliar palettes.
Due to the extreme resonance in the station hall, sounds blend far more than in a concert hall with a reverberation time of one to one and a half seconds. This allowed Brewaeys to create different harmonies and even make instruments resonate with themselves. One of the playing techniques he uses is an oscillating motion: the rapid alternation between two different notes. Thanks to the reverberation, the illusion arises that the notes are sounding simultaneously.
Another ingenious idea the composer enjoys exploring is the blending of different timbres. For example, by letting the horn enter softly while the reverberation of a loud clarinet note is still fading away, a seamless connection between the two instruments is created.
This careful orchestration is closely linked to the unique instrumentation of Talisker. The score is written for a 22-member clarinet choir and six percussionists, supplemented by soloists on clarinet, contrabass clarinet, horn and percussion. The combination of all possible clarinets (from the small E-flat clarinet to the impressively low contrabass clarinet) with horn produces a fairly homogeneous sound world. The percussion includes skin instruments (bongos and various drums), melodic percussion and all kinds of gongs. Here too, acoustics played a role in the choice of instruments: sounds with a clear attack remain rhythmically intelligible despite the long reverberation.
As mentioned earlier, Luc Brewaeys dreamed of using a large metal container as a musical instrument. At one point it was meant to fall from a great height, resulting in a hellish crash. When this idea was abandoned for safety reasons, the composer found a worthy alternative in dropping several cymbals onto the stage. The result is a sonic shock, exactly what Brewaeys was looking for (though he would undoubtedly have enjoyed the astonished looks in the audience had a container actually fallen from the ceiling). Crucial, however, is what follows the shock. How do other sounds enter after the listener has been startled by a loud noise? How does that surprise influence what is heard next?
Another, much subtler effect occurs when several clarinettists play with their bells pressed against a timpani head. The vibrations of their instruments continue in the timpani, whose pitch can be adjusted using a pedal system. In this way, Brewaeys creates a new timbre using existing means – a timbre that also benefits from a rich acoustic. That same acoustic lends the music a certain static quality, even though the score itself is quite rhythmic.
Talisker in the Ravenstein Gallery
In a 1993 article, Eric Antonis, artistic director of Antwerp 93, described the performance of Talisker as “a small miracle”. No one had probably foreseen the great impact of this happening. More than thirty years later, Talisker has been performed many times again, which is fairly exceptional for a site-specific project. The Ravenstein Gallery in Brussels, also a place where countless commuters pass through daily, offers an interesting setting for this composition. Some of the musicians are positioned in the upper galleries and move through the space along the staircases. The result is an experience in which you find yourself in Luc Brewaeys’ favourite place: right in the middle of the sound.
