Classical Music

They said he could be ‘a bit grumpy’ and that ‘maybe if I caught him on a good day…’ So it is with some trepidation that I have come to meet Sir Harrison Birtwistle – a name synonymous with uncompromising integrity in the investigation of the human experience through mythology and complex music.

We are to discuss his latest opera, ‘The Minotaur’, a two-hour journey exploring the Greek myth of the half-man, half-bull, imprisoned in a Cretan maze and fed human sacrifices. His nemesis is the hero Theseus, but the focus of the opera is the Minotaur’s self-realisation and how close man is to his animal self. And so, like Theseus, I thread my way up through the labyrinth of the Royal Opera House, past studios of lithe ballet dancers, a fleeting glimpse of the enormous stage far below and stores bursting with costumes, before finally arriving at a small interview room at the dead end of the marketing department. It is here that I encounter the almost mythological composer.
Feature continues

My adversary arrives, sporting a white silk scarf tied in a cravat, which he removes to reveal completely black attire. His hair slightly unkempt, and with a wispy white beard, he eyes me intently as we talk. But I needn’t have worried, for though it is clear he doesn’t suffer fools gladly, he is a generous interviewee, delivering his considered answers slowly in flat Lancashire vowels. A twinkle in his eye, he is completely down to earth and utterly unpretentious – just like his music.

However, the name ‘Birtwistle’ has gained a reputation as a synonym for ‘difficult’ and ‘unpopular’ – reflected perhaps by its absence from the Classic FM playlist. This pleases him. ‘I don’t want them to play my music,’ he declares, ‘I wouldn’t want it to be reduced to mere background.’

The composer Michael Berkeley, on Radio 3 recently, described the 73-year-old Birtwistle’s music as ‘high art’, in relation to ‘popular’ minimalists such as Philip Glass and Michael Nyman. A compliment? ‘Yes. I’d like to think so,’ he says. ‘I’d certainly like to think that it’s art. Whether it’s high art, I don’t know. When I sit down with a piece of paper, I don’t think: ‘This is high art. I have a problem and I solve it.’

The adjectives ‘difficult’, ‘epic’, and ‘shocking’ were applied to another composer about 150 years ago. Does Birtwistle see himself as the modern Wagner? ‘I don’t see myself as anything,’ he replies. ‘I just do what I do; it’s up to you to see me as I am – that’s your problem,’ he laughs.

As a renowned perfectionist, is he tempted to revise his finished work? ‘No,’ he says without hesitation. ‘Although I always feel that they have
wounds. Then after a while, when I see them again, some wounds tend to heal. But there are others that will have appeared in the meantime… there is something in me that has changed – the way I perceive my work has changed.’

Perhaps, in time, the general public will come around, too? He agrees. ’Yes, they will change; your ears change.’

The role of the Minotaur is being sung by the acclaimed bass, and fellow knight, John Tomlinson. When I quote the singer as saying that performing in Birtwistle’s opera ‘Gawain’ was ‘the most difficult and challenging thing I have ever done’, the composer interjects. ‘Yes,’ he nods, ‘but he means “technically” difficult, not in terms of comprehension – that is an important difference. I don’t set out to write music that is incomprehensible.’

Quite right. That would just be pretentious: something he clearly is not.

‘Anyway, he loves singing my music,’ adds Birtwistle, then laughs, ‘but you would need to ask him about that.’

‘The Minotaur’ is at the Royal Opera House from Apr 15-May 3.