We’re delighted to be able to tell you that the result, The Show Must Go On: on tour with the LSO in 1912 and 2012, has been published and is available to buy as a hardback book.

Launch party!

The official launch date of 30 May is fast approaching, and we will be holding a special book launch party at LSO St Luke’s on Old Street in London on Tuesday 28 May at 6pm. The event will include drinks, a screening of a film (see below) and a performance by Gareth.

We have reserved 20 places for readers of this blog to attend as a thank you for being such great supporters of Gareth’s writing. If you’d like to attend, send an email to competitions@lso.co.uk with your name and mobile phone number by 5.30pm on Friday 24 May. We’ll draw 20 names out of the hat and inform you by email by the end of Friday if you have been picked.

Hope to see you there!

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Buy the book

We have a limited run of copies, signed by Gareth, to sell on the LSO website, which are available before the official launch date, at a bargain price of £10 (+P&P). Wherever you are in the world we can post a book to you without delay.

Go to http://lso.co.uk/the-show-must-go-on to get your copy.

(NB the book will be available on Kindle after 30 May)

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Documentary

We’ve also been busy making a short documentary about the 1912 and 2012 visits to the US. The full length film will be shown at the launch party; but in the meantime here’s a trailer:

Italy is a country full of surprises, or at least that’s what I tell myself as we pull up first in Bergamo and then in Brescia into what can only be described as bad hotels. As we trundled into the outskirts of the town I spotted a forlorn looking steakhouse, one man sitting in the window pushing meat around a plate, staring into the distance like a Hopper on holiday. The coach slowed to a stop outside and I realised it was in fact the hotel restaurant. I smiled to myself and remembered the italic print on the schedule, a Sue Mallet special: ‘NB The hotels are BASIC’. There were few options due to the Giro d’Italia bike race taking place nearby. I checked my schedule and noticed that these italic warnings were actually referring to the hotel in Udine which I am on my way to now. This was the nice hotel.

I had chosen the late flight as I really didn’t want to get up at the break of dawn. The disadvantage of this was that I had a quick turnaround at the hotel before going off to work. I sat as glamorously as I could in my hotel room and chewed on my baguette that I had brought with me from Heathrow airport as CNN burbled in the background. I imagine this isn’t the picture you have of the life of an orchestral musician. Anyway, we arrived at the theatre, which was a beautiful wedding cake affair with a beautiful audience. The town of Bergamo, once you leave the hotel hinterland, is beautiful, with half of the buildings perched on a rock which you have to use a funicular railway to get to, and the rest huddled around its base. It is quite stunning and reminds me of my first trip to Rome. Not that it is similar in any way, the architecture is quite different, but in that way that you can walk down a small street, take a left and find yourself in a courtyard with a small church and a dog sunning itself in the corner kind-of-way. I could lose myself quite happily here.

Unfortunately, losing myself, or my way at least, was not what I had intended in the concert. That is however dear reader, what happened. Whenever we have traveled, no matter how tired we are, or how far we have come, the concentration levels are high on stage. We safely negotiated the peaks and troughs of the Lutoslawski Concerto for Orchestra, an incredible orchestral showpiece with more than a passing nod in the direction of Mr Bartok. In the second half we had the old warhorse that is Tchaikovsky’s 4th symphony. Funnily enough, we don’t play it that much and I like to think that it still retains a freshness with an Italian lilt in Antonio Pappano’s hands. If you say Tchaik 4 to a bassoonist, they will think instantly of terrifying slow, low solos and quiet diminuendi which peter out to nothing (on this occasion being executed quiet brilliantly by guest Principal Joost Bosdijk). If you mention it to a piccolo player, they will think of that little bit of quicksilver that leaps out of the texture in the third movement. It’s a tricky moment made worse by the fact that the piccolo doesn’t play in the first two movements, leaving the poor player to sit and listen to two things. Firstly the music going on around them and secondly the voice in their head telling them it’s all going to go wrong. Of course in the hands of Sharon Williams, it all sounds so effortless. I’ve played it myself in a former life and I can tell you that it is not. The opening pizzicato section, which is rudely interrupted by the oboe, repeats itself and at this point we in the woodwind section have about 127 bars rest, after which we jump onto the moving train of the string section.

Only…we missed our stop. I’m not sure entirely what happened, tiredness maybe, under confidence, but these things happen. As we approached our entry, I counted and listened and I heard the previous two bars, took a breath and prepared to lead the woodwind section in and…nobody moved….and….two bars of silence in    s   l    o   w      m   o     t     i     o     n     . It was like being in The Matrix. Tony looked up at us half way through the bar when we should have been playing and the entire woodwind section as one, perfectly together, did absolutely nothing. Two bars of silence before the strings came in and then we came round from our collective amnesia and continued as if nothing had happened. I often tell my pupils, if they make a mistake in a concert, don’t stamp or swear or roll your eyes and alert people to your mistake – many people won’t notice at all. In fact on this occasion, so impressive was our unanimity, that Christine Pendrill, who was listening in the audience, realised that something was different, but couldn’t quite remember what was supposed to happen in the silence. Oh well, happens to everyone. Tony just smiled. Move on.

At the rehearsal last night in Brescia, we played bit of Lutoslawski and then moved onto Tchaik 4. First movement. Second movement. Oh dear, it’s the third movement. Sniggers all around. We did some bits and nothing was said and then we moved onto the fourth movement. Crikey, maybe we were so convincing that even the conductor himself didn’t notice – though I doubt it. Just when I thought we’d got away with it, Tony spoke up.

“Hey woodwind! Do you need to do that bit?”
“What bit?!”
“Come on guys, I’ll make sure I bring you in tonight, but do you want to do it now?”
“No, we’ll be fine.”
“OK. Well, I gotta tell ya, you guys sacred the s*#t outta me last night. Don’t do it again!”

We all laughed and the movement passed off without incident apart from the enormous shuffle of feet when we did play in the right place in the concert.

Brescia seemed closed after the show, we’d been told that restaurants wouldn’t stay open late and by the time we left the building, it was 11.30pm. Fortunately, my group of friends has a secret weapon in the form of Lorenzo Iosco of Tuscany. He could charm the shirt off most people’s back, but in Italy, he really comes into his own. When we eventually found him, (he wasn’t in the second half) he had found a small family restaurant which had stayed open especially for us. It was down one of those little lanes that nobody else would find and we had the place to ourselves. Having a translator meant that we could try dishes that had previously remained unexplored. Some antipasti washed down with their home made beer, toasted bread with fatty ham drizzled with honey and pickled vegetables was sensational. This was followed by local wine and risotto and linguine for the others, while I had malfatti, which sounded like a Welsh insult to me, but turned out to be a kind of gnocchi with spinach and ricotta. Delicious. I’m never quite sure what’s going to happen in Italy, this country of surprise lanes and tastes. It’s full of gems which I shall try to remember in the basic hotel which we are heading towards. I think it’s going to be fine though. Lorenzo already has somewhere in mind for lunch…

It was the huge success of the ‘Enigma Variations’ and ‘Nimrod’ in particular that turned Elgar’s professional and personal life around.

The story is that after a hard day’s teaching Elgar was relaxing by improvising at the piano and the tune he was playing caught the attention of his wife. To please her he began to improvise variations on the tune, each of which was either a musical portrait of one of their friends or else in a musical style they might have used.

The Enigma of the ‘Variations’ is not the identity of the friends. It is well known who each of the fourteen variations is dedicated to. The Enigma lies in the hidden theme, which is central to the work but is never played. This Enigma has fascinated musicians and musicologists since the composition of the Variations at the turn of the 19th century. Learned tomes have been dedicated to solving the riddle. Perhaps the best solution is that Elgar, who had an impish sense of humour despite his rather morose outlook on life, was ‘having a laugh’.

The LSO has a long history with the ‘Introduction and Allegro’ as the newly formed orchestra commissioned the piece for an all Elgar concert in 1905. It was written as a celebration of the orchestra’s virtuosity.

Emotional intensity is at the heart of any great performance of the Enigma Variations and in this performance, conducted by Sir Colin Davis, the LSO wears its heart on its sleeve. This version of the recording was specially re-mastered from the high definition Direct Stream Digital originals for release in the Mastered for iTunes series. The emotional impact is visceral.

Purchase the LSO Live recording on iTunes

DO NOT STEP OUTSIDE THIS AREA

When we started this period of work with Sir John Eliot Gardiner last week, he began by paying tribute to Sir Colin Davis. He told us of how he had influenced him and of course mentioned performances with the Chelsea Opera Group with Colin at the helm conducting Berlioz. That to me was no surprise, Colin and John Eliot’s interpretations of Berlioz are the finest we have in my opinion. What was more of a surprise was that when John Eliot first approached Colin and asked his advice on becoming a conductor, he was told to go away and learn the Rite of Spring. This took me back to last summer when I was doing some research for a project I’ve been working on (more details later) and came across a flyer in the archives of Carnegie Hall. It was for a concert in 1963 in New York, to mark the 50th anniversary of the Rite. It was to be conducted by the veteran conductor who had given the fabled premiere at the beginning of the century, Pierre Monteux, at the time Principal Conductor of the LSO. Monteux, who died the following year, was 86 when he was appointed to the LSO in 1961 and it seems that he was in need of assistance from a younger conductor for the tour in ’63, a conductor who would conduct some of the rest of the programme and also some of the rehearsals should the great maestro feel the need. The conductor in question was a young Colin Davis. I cannot help but wonder whether the advice to the young John Eliot was the same advice given to the young Colin Davis by Monteux. Colin and I spoke about it last year and when I showed him a copy of the flyer, he simply said, “Good heavens, where on earth did you find this? I’d completely forgotten about it!”  When people ask me what a conductor actually does, think of the link from Stravinsky to Monteux to Colin, a span of a century in two conductors. What a huge part of musical life we have lost…

Photo © LSO / Matt Stuart

John Eliot has been celebrating his 70th birthday with us and has surprised me with his repertoire choice of all- Stravinsky. I suppose I was expecting Beethoven or Berlioz, but he seems to have no wish to be stuck in his seat and is walking wherever he chooses on the wing. Last night in Cologne, we gave the final performance of Oedipus Rex and ended up with the customary free beer kindly provided by the hall. I am now absolutely convinced that we always play better in Cologne because we are conditioned to expect free beer afterwards. In any case, as I wasn’t in the first half of the concert, after the rehearsal I went back to the hotel to freshen up and get changed. As I walked back past the busy cathedral area of town I approached a small round piazza which I began to cross and was immediately shouted at by a security guard. I am not fluent in German, but by his gesticulating and sign pointing, I think he was shouting something along the lines of, “Do not walk outside of the area!” He continued to shout at other people too but I could not figure out why as the sign and shouting were all in German until at last, the final sign was in English. To cut a very long story short, the piazza, or platz I guess, is directly above the stage – in fact, it seems to be the roof of the concert hall and if there is a performance on, you aren’t allowed to walk on it as people in the audience can hear your shoes. I’m no architect, but I’d consider that a design flaw. I carefully walked around the piazza and backstage just as the wonderful strings of the LSO were coming off.

As well as the fantastic soloists I mentioned in the last blog, the three soloists who step forward from the Monteverdi Choir are extraordinary. The ladies and gentlemen of the woodwind section were trying to figure out how one of the most slight of singers seemed to produce a big resonant bass voice. John Eliot informed me that David Shipley who sings Tiresias is not only a less than expected size for a bass, but still only in his early 20s. One to watch I think. Having stood in front of the LSO to play a concerto before, I know how nerve wracking it can be when you are asked to step outside the comfort zone of ensemble work to be a soloist; so all credit to the singers who have really made this performance extra special for the orchestra. I look forward to seeing John Eliot again later this year for some Mendelssohn. If you want to, I think you’ve still got a couple of days to listen to Oedipus on the BBC iPlayer and of course, the performance was recorded for release on LSO Live later on.

I mentioned a project that I was working on earlier and at last the time has come to share it with you  properly. I know many of you follow this blog and have done since it started way back in 2007. Among the thousands of views it has had, I have been encouraged by many of you to continue writing and many suggested that I write a book. Some of you may have seen an article I wrote for BBC Music Magazine a few months back about the discovery of some diaries from the LSO tour to the USA in 1912. After reading them, I couldn’t help thinking that things hadn’t changed that much in a hundred years of touring and in many ways, the diary of timpanist Charles Turner read a little like a tour blog from the past. I had intended to write an extended blog about the difference and similarities between our experiences but as I delved deeper, the article got longer and longer and…well in short, I have written a book. As you are my longest standing readership, you have the chance to get hold of a signed copy before anyone else by clicking on the cover image below. I’ll tell you a little more about it another time and also we will be running a competition for a few of you to get a golden ticket to come to the book launch at LSO St Luke’s on 28 May.

The Show Must Go On

I have to confess that I am a little nervous about the whole enterprise, it’s not something I had ever considered until recently. However, it felt like the right time to ignore the warnings and walk outside the area.

Sir John Eliot Gardiner, celebrating his 70th birthday is back. This is his way of asking the choir to sing with less vibrato. He may be at an age where most of us would be considering slowing down, however, nobody seems to have told him how he is supposed to behave.

At the rehearsal in Paris last night, the issue which took the most time to sort out was that of the lighting and the sound quality of the narrator’s microphone. In between conducting sections of the work, John Eliot fires out instructions to the lighting crew in a blend of fluent French and English demanding lighting is increased, moved and generally changed to get the effect he is after.

Oedipus Rex is one of Stravinsky’s more challenging works to get right. The orchestral parts are tricky, often encouraging extreme volume in the woodwind and brass which can easily obliterate the singers, and the rhythmic challenges can turn a performance into a muddled mess. The male chorus parts are extremely tricky and really form part of the orchestral texture rather than a separate entity at the back of the stage. John Eliot has brought his impressive Monteverdi Chorus to the front where they occupy a space at the back of the second violins. The placement of players on the stage is something which he takes very seriously and we often find ourselves moving around a lot to suit the particular venue. As well as the choir at the side and three excellent soloists pulled from their ranks at specific moments, there are also three other soloists dotted around the stage. Stuart Skelton who plays the role of Oedipus declaims from the traditional soloists spot to the side of John Eliot – he is quite astonishing, as is Jennifer Johnson, the only female singer in the piece who plays Jocasta. I haven’t heard such power and flexibility in tone for a long time – and she has her back to me! There is a wonderful moment at the half way point in the piece where everything stops on stage and she calmly walks across to take her place before the choir and orchestra erupts to welcome the singular presence of a female singer. She makes an impact before she sings a note.

And that for me is what singles out this performance of Oedipus from others I have been part of. As a work it lies in the hinterland of opera, cantata and oratorio and has often seemed problematic; if you know the story, a great deal happens, the action itself is often described by the narrator (the husky toned French film star, Fanny Ardant). There is not much action to stage in an operatic sense and so it can become a static parade of musical scenes set up by the text. John Eliot, as well as having the choir and soloists at the front, also has Gidon Saks who plays Creon, standing at the side of the stage (or near the back if you watched in Brussels). The chorus rise as one from their seats and sing simultaneously and this is where the lighting comes in. The orchestra has lit stands and the soloists and chorus are only illuminated when singing otherwise they remain unseen in darkness; it really creates and interesting atmosphere and seems to focus your attention in a way that a brightly lit stage never can.

“No, no…non! I need more light on Fanny,’ shouts John Eliot. Ms Ardant is standing and speaking into the mic but is in darkness until a switch is flicked later than expected.

“No! It’s too slow, it won’t do.” He then slips into French and asks to have the volume of the mic taken down as her voice drowns the orchestra. When he is happy, we try it again and the light appears at the right time, but we are soon stopping again as the chorus stands to sing in total darkness.

“Merde!”

Yup, I got that bit. So it continues until John Eliot is confident that everything is right. It seems to me that the lighting engineer needs to have as deep a knowledge of the score as the conductor and performers for this piece, everything needs to be spot on for it to be effective.

John Eliot rehearses Oedipus Rex in Paris
photo by Lorenzo Iosco

When the concert starts, there is an air of excitement and expectation which always goes hand in hand with one of John Eliot’s shows. The urgency he brings to Beethoven symphonies is not confined to that composer alone, he seems to have boundless energy, although he did admit to being a little tired after his Bach Marathons in London and Paris recently. The final piece of showmanship I hadn’t bargained on only became apparent in the show itself as all the soloists and chorus come on in full stage makeup. In line with the narrative subject matter, all performers, except for Jocasta are wearing black and the chorus have white make face paint with black highlights which I imagine from the audience makes them look a little underfed. They also have black headbands which, backstage, makes it look like we’ve been overrun by the Winchester Ninja Association staff choir. The performance starts in total darkness but for the narrator at the back of the stage. “Spectateur!” she growls. The audience is silent for her opening statement and then at once John Eliot’s arm whips back and crashes down as the choir stand, the lights highlight them at the side of the stage and they and the orchestra erupt in the first outburst of the evening. There are 3 and a half bars of sonic violence before a brief respite and then it all starts again before the motor rhythms of Stravinsky’s neo classical period really get going.

As we progress through the piece, I find myself more and more drawn into the performance as the interest moves from one part of the stage to the next. The tension is extraordinary as the choir and orchestra negotiate the tricky rhythms and John Eliot stirs up this dark work.

“Adieu. Adieu Oedipus. On t’amait…”

After the narrators final words the music descends into a bacchanalian frenzy until the opening phrases return and then the repeated cello and bass theme gradually dissipates, the lights fade to black and there is silence. Amazing really. The classical music business like to tie itself in knots about being relevant and how to attract new audiences and here we have simple lighting, simple black and white stage make up and top quality singing, playing and conducting. And it works thrillingly.

Cologne soon.

Oedipus Rex is performed in London on Thursday 25 April: more details and booking: http://lso.co.uk/sir-john-eliot-gardiner-70th-birthday-concert

www.garethdaviesonline.com

Here on the blog, we’ve been finding out more about the composers, all former participants of the LSO’s Panufnik Young Composers Scheme, who’ve been involved in the new work Panufnik Variations, which receives its premiere at the Barbican on 13 April. Today, it’s the turn of Toby Young …

Toby Young

How long have you been composing?
Almost as long as I can remember! Both my parents are musicians, so there was always something playing in the house, which very much inspired me to hum along (often making up my own tunes in counterpoint) or to try and improvise at the piano. When I was about seven I started performing as a boy treble for the ENO, and I remember this experience particularly inspiring me to write my own music and begin to think about different ways of notating my ideas.

Could you tell us a bit about your influences and inspirations?
Whilst I am classically trained, it has always been music outside this tradition that has particularly inspired me. My biggest musical influence growing up was my jazz piano teacher Fergus Read, who introduced me to a huge variety of music, from jazz artists like Keith Jarrett, Chick Corea and Brad Mehldau, to prog-rock groups like Weather Report, Gryphon and Captain Beefheart, who are all huge influences for me, even today.

What did you enjoy the most about being part of the Panufnik Young Composers Scheme, and how has the experience affected your music and career since?
The Panufnik Scheme was hugely beneficial in my development as a composer. It opened so many doors for me – both in terms of opportunities  but also mentally, really expanding my horizons and helping me to think about music in different ways. It’s also hugely inspiring to work with such incredible musicians. Last year I had the privilege to be one of the inaugural composers on the LSO Soundhub scheme, and, for a young composer like me, to have had such close collaborations with such a great orchestra can do nothing other than inspire!

Can you tell us a bit about your experience of contributing to the new commission Panufnik Variations? How did you approach writing your variation?
I have long admired the music of Andrzej Panufnik, so to be asked to be part of this project was truly wonderful. I began by immersing myself in as much of his music as possible, trying to understand the sound worlds at play, and work out his orchestration techniques as a foundation for me to develop. Then I tried several small exercises to develop the given theme in a number of different styles, but always trying to maintain a dialogue with Panufnik’s work. Whilst I have used a few of those sketches for other things, one idea in particular really struck me, and seemed perfect to develop further for this project.

What other projects are you working on at the moment?
I am very lucky to be involved in a hugely diverse selection of projects at the moment, including choral pieces for the choir of New College, Oxford, and the BBC Singers, and a song cycle for Presteigne Festival. I also work quite a lot with dance music artists, and am currently co-writing a new album with the D’n'B’ duo Chase & Status, due for release later this year.

Raymond Yiu
Image © Malcolm Crowthers

When did you start composing?
I tried to write down my piano improvisations when I was a teenager, but never got very far. I really started composing when I was studying Electrical and Electronic Engineering at Imperial College in the mid-1990s, but without really knowing what I was doing, and I was very isolated musically as I did not know any player or composer. On the brink of giving up, I met Lukas Foss, who, after seeing my petty attempts in writing a string quartet, said that I must carry on (possibly out of pity). So I did.

Could you tell us a bit about your influences and inspirations?

As I grew up in Hong Kong, Cantopop and old 1930s Chinese pop songs (a.k.a. shidai qu) were my first musical memories; they still play a big part in my life. I came to know and appreciate Western arts music much later, but there are composers whose music I cannot live without – Mozart, Chopin, Domenico Scarlatti, Ravel, Debussy, Stravinsky, Nielsen, Sibelius, Elgar, Walton, Rachmaninoff, Gershwin, Dutilleux, Berio, Ligeti, Julian Anderson and most of all, my mentor, the German-born American composer Lukas Foss.

What did you enjoy most about being part of the Panufnik Young Composers Scheme, and how has the experience affected your music and career since?
After I completed my first stage work The Original Chinese Conjuror in 2006, I reached a creative dead end and did not write a single note for two years. At that time, I thought I would not write again.

In 2008, I was encouraged by friends, including Julian Anderson (who wrote the reference letter for my application) to apply for the Panufnik Young Composers Scheme. To my surprise, I got a place. The 12 months that followed were a big turning point for me – other than working with one of the best (and friendliest) orchestras in the world, I regained enough confidence as a composer to eventually give up my day job in IT and started a full-time doctorate in composition at Guildhall School. The things I learnt about writing for orchestra through the scheme served me very well when I came to work on my next orchestral piece, The London Citizen Exceedingly Injured.

Last but not least, I got commissioned by LSO to write a piece for Lang Lang and the Silk String Quartet in 2009, and I even got to conduct the first performance!

Can you tell us a bit about your experience of contributing to the new commission Panufnik Variations? How did you approach writing your variation?
As soon as I saw the theme by Panufnik given to us, I recognised it as a palindrome right away. I was drawn to the second part of the theme, containing a perfect fourth rise, which reminded me of the striking Vision I from Panufnik’s Sinfonia Sacra (1963). Therefore, I went along with the idea of composing a variation based on a theme from Universal Prayer, with the memories of Sinfonia Sacra attempting to sneak in every now and then.

As I started working on the piece, I learnt the sad new of LSO Principle Oboe Kieron Moore’s (1963–2012) death. Therefore, in the middle of my Allegro Giocoso variation, the first oboe takes the centre stage and sings.

What other projects are you working on at the moment?
I am currently writing a work for brass band, and planning my next opera.

Elizabeth Winters

When did you start composing?
That’s a hard one!  The first piece I remember writing was when I was about seven or eight years old, but the earliest piece which is out there being performed is the Recorder Sonatina (2004).  I certainly wouldn’t want to look back any earlier than that!

Could you tell us a bit about your influences and inspirations?
My influences vary from piece to piece, so it’s quite hard to generalise.  They usually stem from the composition brief in some way.  However, I would say that I have more extra-musical influences on my music than musical ones.

What did you enjoy most about being part of the Panufnik Young Composers Scheme, and how has the experience affected your music and career since?
As working as a composer can be quite isolating, I very much enjoyed the chance to meet some other composers.  There are a large number of composers involved in the Panufnik Scheme in some way, so even though I knew quite a few people already I made some new contacts through the scheme, which was great.

Can you tell us a bit about your experience of contributing to the new commission Panufnik Variations? How did you approach writing your variation?
I think I began by doing the obvious, which was listening to the original piece by Panufnik.  I then took three elements from the piece, which I incorporated into my variation in some way:  symmetry, repeated notes and flourishes of harmony/colour.  I tried to take a linear approach; my variation is quite sparsely scored but I aimed to create a variety of instrumental colour.

What other projects are you working on at the moment?
Actually, I’m having a break from composition right now as I’m completing a PGCE.  I hope to be fully qualified as a primary school teacher by July and so will hopefully be out there teaching full time from September!

Throughout LSO Futures week, we’ll be using the blog to give you the chance to get to know some of the composers involved in the world premiere of Panufnik Variations on 13 April. Based on a theme by Andrzej Panufnik, the new work features opening and closing sections by Colin Matthews and variations by nine alumni of the LSO’s Panufnik Young Composer’s Scheme.

Today, we’ve asked London-based composer Christopher Mayo about his work as a composer and how he got involved with the LSO.

Christopher Mayo

When did you start composing?

I think my earliest pieces probably date from when I was about 13 or 14. Very impractical pieces made by playing around with MusicProse on my Macintosh LC II. Actually, my mother had me write a song for the builders who were renovating our house when I was six – that piece is still waiting for a second performance.

Could you tell us a bit about your influences and inspirations?
I tend to fluctuate wildly in terms of where I draw inspiration for my work. Recently, I’ve been taking a lot of my ideas from visual art, particularly the books of Jon McNaught. My new pieces for Manchester Camerata (Dockwood) and Ensemble Amorpha (Birchfield Close) are both named after his books. When I find something which inspires me, I tend to keep coming back to it as a starting point for my work. I’m also currently going through a big country music thing – the ideas for the piece I wrote for the MATA Festival in 2011 stemmed from some really hard-panned hi-hats in Jerry Reed’s 1971 hit When You’re Hot, You’re Hot.

What did you enjoy most about being part of the Panufnik Young Composers Scheme in 2010, and how has the experience affected your music and career since?
The most enjoyable part was undoubtedly being in the room and working with the Orchestra. You just can’t quantify how valuable that is for a composer: time to try out ideas, time to interact, time to make mistakes, and all in a very supportive environment. It’s also had a very positive effect on my career. The association with the LSO has a way of opening doors and the continuing relationship with the Orchestra has led to a recording of my Panufnik piece and my involvement in these variations.

Can you tell us a bit about your experience of contributing to the new commission Panufnik Variations? How did you approach writing your variation?
It was a really interesting process. As a way of ensuring some kind of musical flow through this patchwork piece, Colin Matthews gave us each a tempo and descriptive character for our variation (mine was ‘Moderato and Quirky’). So I was reacting not just to Panufnik’s theme (from Universal Prayer) but also to this descriptive character. It was a fantastic opportunity to get more intimately acquainted with Panufnik’s music, to really pull apart the theme and try to find interesting new ways of putting it back together.

What other projects are you working on at the moment?
I’m currently the Sound and Music ‘Embedded’ composer with the Manchester Camerata and I’m in the final stages of writing my third piece for them. I’m also working on new pieces for Ensemble Amorpha and the English National Ballet. Further down the line, I will be writing a new piece for Crash Ensemble, working on the music for an immersive site-specific dance piece with the New Movement Collective, collaborating on a devised opera with Opera Erratica and developing a new work with Tal Rosner for the Royal Opera House.

10am to 2pm: Family Day

Aimed at families with children under 8, this Open Day celebrates a decade of Early Years Workshops and family events at LSO St Luke’s.

On Easter Monday the building will be completely taken over for this special, one-day event. There will be a variety of exciting activities for the whole family to enjoy, from interactive music sessions with LSO players, to a collaborative art project to help us tell the stories behind the building, including the myth behind the golden dragon on top of the spire! Babies and toddlers are also invited to join the fun with their very own musical VIP baby corner. The day will end with an exciting story-telling concert for the whole family.

Tickets: SOLD OUT

(Pic: the LSO Discovery staff building a giant nest for use at the Family Day)

Follow the festival on Twitter using the hashtag #lsostlukes10

For a full list of what’s on throughout the festival please visit http://lso.co.uk/lsostlukes10

10am to 6pm: Not(e) Perfect Orchestra

A unique opportunity to be part of an orchestra for a day. Not(e) Perfect is for those who wish they hadn’t given up playing their instruments. Paul Rissmann and LSO players will work alongside them today to refresh their skills and put together an informal concert for family and friends, featuring Elgar’s Nimrod and selections from Bizet’s Carmen Suites.

Tickets: SOLD OUT

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For a full list of what’s on throughout the festival please visit http://lso.co.uk/lsostlukes10