Interview by Nexum Music Collective, March 2023
This interview took place with Maria-Eduarda Mendes at the Canadian Music Centre in Toronto in March 2023.
N: What is New Music?
T: It’s quite interesting that you ask this question because I have been thinking a lot about it. Fairly recently, I gave a lecture about this topic at U of T [University of Toronto], for some of the composers in the Composition program. I think the general impression about the term “new music” is that we think it’s music that is new in a chronological sense, but actually I don’t think this is the case. Rather, we should think about new music as containing elements or things that are perhaps unfamiliar or strange, or uncanny, or challenging… so the newness refers not to the chronological creation of the music, but rather something inherent in the music itself. When we do this, it causes the definition to be much more inclusive, so we begin to see “new music” as something that stretches all the way back to the beginning of musical history. And we begin to see composers that we would not expect to be “new music” composers, are actually quite “new”. The quintessential example is Beethoven being the “new music” composer. He was constantly pushing against the forms...he turned sonata form into something that was not [just] a kind of pre-arranged structure, but into something almost psychological. This completely innovative and critical examination of what music could do…thinking about new music in this sort of fashion rather than it being a question of chronology makes it a lot more interesting and engaging to think about.
N: Why did you choose to work with it?
T: It’s quite funny because I really didn’t start studying music seriously until I was a teenager… 15, maybe 14. Previous to that, I was really interested in doing something creative, but I wasn’t sure of the correct mode of creation that I would have pursued. I remember being quite young and being interested in drawing, painting, writing plays, even making video games… I didn’t know anything about computer programming, so I would just draw the video games on huge pieces of paper. There was definitely that drive to create something, and music didn’t really become a part of it until quite later, and I started playing instruments, and ended up playing in an orchestra (I was an oboist). When I got there, and I was listening to the music…playing the music… that is where I discovered something for myself. Moving onward I had a rock music career, songwriting career as well. But I think the reason why I was drawn to classical composition is… I just wanted to do things that were more complex. I was attracted to the score writing process, being able to arrange everything really clearly… and the idea of so much music being instrumental actually appealed to me in a funny way, because you are able to express emotions in a more.. I don’t want to say subtle… a more covert way of expressing things, rather than writing songs and writing these confessional lyrics. I think that’s what drew me towards the genre.
I was playing piano already, [and] by the time I was 5 or 6 there was a piano in my house. I think what also drew me to music is that… the reward is immediate. If you learn to draw you have to learn about materials, shading, proportion, perspective… all these things. But with writing music, you just have to sit down and hit notes. So, the gratitude is instant. I think that’s what made it the most appealing when I was younger.
N. What is the day of a composer like?
T: Like a lot of composers, most of my income doesn’t come from composition. Over the last 10 years or so, I’ve been making a lot of my income from being a church musician… choir director, and doing a little bit of teaching. But I always make sure I have time to compose. Typically one or two hours, and it’s almost always the first thing in the morning. And the rest of the day is dedicated to the other things I have to do in my life. I’m always very cautious about the work I take on, because I really feel that whatever I’m doing outside of composition has to somehow benefit that part of my life. So no matter what I’m doing, composition is the highest priority in my life. Sometimes it’s really hard to make it that way. The other job I have, being an organist and choir director, that directly feeds into what I do as a composer. I guess I’m pretty lucky.
N: What are some insights or impressions that your music has made on listeners?
T: For me, the best comments I get from people about my music is that the music has somehow given them something, that the music has added to them in some way. If you strip down the concert experience down to its very core, what you’re witnessing in a concert is an exchange of information. The composer composes something, we receive the information in music form, and if the music is good, if the performance is good, then that information adds to you. If the music is bad, if the performance is bad, in my case at least, it sucks energy out of me, like a vampire or something. So, the best comments I get from people is when they feel like my music has contributed to them. It doesn’t have to be an obvious way, it can be a mysterious way, maybe they’ve learned something about themselves, or they learn something about the world or the universe. So it’s kind of hard to define. Over the years that’s been [the] impressions that stood out the most for me.
I participated in the Array Young Composers Workshop, and after the concert I had somebody come up to me and they said my music was so strange and beautiful, which I thought was a really nice comment. Funny enough I don’t compose music like that any more, so I don’t know if that applies to what I’m writing today, but I thought that was a gratifying comment.
N: What are some unforgettable experiences that New Music has brought to you?
T: When I was young I had something on my bucket list, which was to have a piece performed by an orchestra. Funny enough, I had that crossed off my bucket list quite early. By the time I was sixteen that was already off my bucket list. In 2018 I was composer-in-residence for the University of Toronto Symphony Orchestra, and I wrote this fairly lengthy unconventional piece that needed 4 percussionists, a harpist, a pianist, 2 piccolo players… I really went all out with this piece, and by stroke of luck, this was a retirement concert for a choral professor at U of T, so the auditorium was absolutely packed, I think there were 700, 800 people there. When my piece was being played, I snuck into the audience and I sat in one of the last seats that was remaining. And my piece started playing, and this lady and this man started talking very loudly during my piece, saying “Uh, this music is awful!”. I thought that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced as a composer (laughs). Somebody thinks your music is just a racket. One of my mentors Norbert Palej said he had a similar experience and he said it was the greatest experience of his life [as well]. He had some people say “Uh, this music is awful” and in the same concert people are like, this music is beautiful and moving. These extremely polarizing reactions… for me these things always stand out as the most important creative experiences, funny enough.
N: What is New Music?
T: It’s quite interesting that you ask this question because I have been thinking a lot about it. Fairly recently, I gave a lecture about this topic at U of T [University of Toronto], for some of the composers in the Composition program. I think the general impression about the term “new music” is that we think it’s music that is new in a chronological sense, but actually I don’t think this is the case. Rather, we should think about new music as containing elements or things that are perhaps unfamiliar or strange, or uncanny, or challenging… so the newness refers not to the chronological creation of the music, but rather something inherent in the music itself. When we do this, it causes the definition to be much more inclusive, so we begin to see “new music” as something that stretches all the way back to the beginning of musical history. And we begin to see composers that we would not expect to be “new music” composers, are actually quite “new”. The quintessential example is Beethoven being the “new music” composer. He was constantly pushing against the forms...he turned sonata form into something that was not [just] a kind of pre-arranged structure, but into something almost psychological. This completely innovative and critical examination of what music could do…thinking about new music in this sort of fashion rather than it being a question of chronology makes it a lot more interesting and engaging to think about.
N: Why did you choose to work with it?
T: It’s quite funny because I really didn’t start studying music seriously until I was a teenager… 15, maybe 14. Previous to that, I was really interested in doing something creative, but I wasn’t sure of the correct mode of creation that I would have pursued. I remember being quite young and being interested in drawing, painting, writing plays, even making video games… I didn’t know anything about computer programming, so I would just draw the video games on huge pieces of paper. There was definitely that drive to create something, and music didn’t really become a part of it until quite later, and I started playing instruments, and ended up playing in an orchestra (I was an oboist). When I got there, and I was listening to the music…playing the music… that is where I discovered something for myself. Moving onward I had a rock music career, songwriting career as well. But I think the reason why I was drawn to classical composition is… I just wanted to do things that were more complex. I was attracted to the score writing process, being able to arrange everything really clearly… and the idea of so much music being instrumental actually appealed to me in a funny way, because you are able to express emotions in a more.. I don’t want to say subtle… a more covert way of expressing things, rather than writing songs and writing these confessional lyrics. I think that’s what drew me towards the genre.
I was playing piano already, [and] by the time I was 5 or 6 there was a piano in my house. I think what also drew me to music is that… the reward is immediate. If you learn to draw you have to learn about materials, shading, proportion, perspective… all these things. But with writing music, you just have to sit down and hit notes. So, the gratitude is instant. I think that’s what made it the most appealing when I was younger.
N. What is the day of a composer like?
T: Like a lot of composers, most of my income doesn’t come from composition. Over the last 10 years or so, I’ve been making a lot of my income from being a church musician… choir director, and doing a little bit of teaching. But I always make sure I have time to compose. Typically one or two hours, and it’s almost always the first thing in the morning. And the rest of the day is dedicated to the other things I have to do in my life. I’m always very cautious about the work I take on, because I really feel that whatever I’m doing outside of composition has to somehow benefit that part of my life. So no matter what I’m doing, composition is the highest priority in my life. Sometimes it’s really hard to make it that way. The other job I have, being an organist and choir director, that directly feeds into what I do as a composer. I guess I’m pretty lucky.
N: What are some insights or impressions that your music has made on listeners?
T: For me, the best comments I get from people about my music is that the music has somehow given them something, that the music has added to them in some way. If you strip down the concert experience down to its very core, what you’re witnessing in a concert is an exchange of information. The composer composes something, we receive the information in music form, and if the music is good, if the performance is good, then that information adds to you. If the music is bad, if the performance is bad, in my case at least, it sucks energy out of me, like a vampire or something. So, the best comments I get from people is when they feel like my music has contributed to them. It doesn’t have to be an obvious way, it can be a mysterious way, maybe they’ve learned something about themselves, or they learn something about the world or the universe. So it’s kind of hard to define. Over the years that’s been [the] impressions that stood out the most for me.
I participated in the Array Young Composers Workshop, and after the concert I had somebody come up to me and they said my music was so strange and beautiful, which I thought was a really nice comment. Funny enough I don’t compose music like that any more, so I don’t know if that applies to what I’m writing today, but I thought that was a gratifying comment.
N: What are some unforgettable experiences that New Music has brought to you?
T: When I was young I had something on my bucket list, which was to have a piece performed by an orchestra. Funny enough, I had that crossed off my bucket list quite early. By the time I was sixteen that was already off my bucket list. In 2018 I was composer-in-residence for the University of Toronto Symphony Orchestra, and I wrote this fairly lengthy unconventional piece that needed 4 percussionists, a harpist, a pianist, 2 piccolo players… I really went all out with this piece, and by stroke of luck, this was a retirement concert for a choral professor at U of T, so the auditorium was absolutely packed, I think there were 700, 800 people there. When my piece was being played, I snuck into the audience and I sat in one of the last seats that was remaining. And my piece started playing, and this lady and this man started talking very loudly during my piece, saying “Uh, this music is awful!”. I thought that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced as a composer (laughs). Somebody thinks your music is just a racket. One of my mentors Norbert Palej said he had a similar experience and he said it was the greatest experience of his life [as well]. He had some people say “Uh, this music is awful” and in the same concert people are like, this music is beautiful and moving. These extremely polarizing reactions… for me these things always stand out as the most important creative experiences, funny enough.