I was a rock guitarist and electronic musician before I became interested in classical music, and I often refer to some of those early musical inspirations, with references in some of my work to Radiohead, Gentle Giant, Deadmau5, Rory Gallagher, and Skrillex. These are often buried in the music like Easter Eggs, so they aren’t that easy to spot! My music deals with themes of nature, politics, land, heritage, and language – often juxtaposing and contrasting rich harmonies and sweeping melodies with angular rhythms and distorted noises. There are nearly always moments of peace and hope in my music, but they emerge from the backdrop of a turbulent discourse.
My new piece, Sundrop, is one of my brighter, celebratory pieces. I was writing it just before the arrival of our second child, and the music was inspired by the energetic joy of new life. While the piece is premiering in what will likely be a cold November, the composing took place in the warmth of late summer, and hopefully it will bring some of that summer light back into the dark winter months.
I generally begin with an image, story, or mood that interests me, and then I sketch out on paper the kind of sounds and instruments that have some elements that remind me of the starting point. For example, in Sundrop the music begins with cello harmonics that emerge out of a cloud of piano resonance. This came from thinking about what kind of musical gesture might have similarities to a focused beam of sunlight.
The repertoire I’m most drawn to is music by French and Finnish composers who were inspired by the colour of sound and explored harmony in unique ways. This includes composers like Messiaen, Saariaho, and Lindberg.
There are points in the composition process where an idea or section feels like it has come to a conclusion and the music is at a crossroads where it could pivot in multiple directions. These moments eat up the most time as I am no longer following the natural unfolding of an idea, but tentatively pointing the music in different directions to see which feels like the right move. Sometimes you start down a path and realise what you’ve written isn’t going to work and have to reverse back to the crossroads to try something new. It is one of the most frustrating parts of composing, but equally the most rewarding, because there’s a real ‘lightbulb’ moment when a new trajectory clicks into place.
As mentioned in the last question, probably the moments during composing when everything clicks into place. The music can at times seem inevitable, as if it couldn’t possibly go any other way. I greatly enjoy that feeling of discovery, when it doesn’t feel like I’m writing music but unveiling it: it was there fully-formed all along.
Search Anselm McDonnell on your chosen streaming service, or YouTube. Alternatively if you’d like to look for something specific, on my website you can find pieces under the Music tab grouped by instrumentation (choir/orchestra/opera etc). anselmmcdonnell.co.uk