About me
An overview of a composer
Tasmanian born and resident in Germany, Simon Barber is a highly prolific and enigmatic composer of orchestral, chamber and vocal music.
As a fellow composer (we graduated from the Tasmanian Conservatorium of Music together), the task of making comment on Simon Barber’s music has been the cause of some apprehension for me. Apprehension, because what I experience when I listen to Simon’s music is incredibly complex, caught up within our friendship – and has been very hard to put into words.
The first sentence here (which I spent days over!) outlines my thinking.
To start at the beginning then, my first port of call is Tasmania – in Simon’s music I hear a Tasmanian composer speaking. In his early work, when we were at the conservatorium studying with Don Kay, Simon was keenly aware of his Tasmanian environment. Early titles – little kingfisher suite, ocean beach serenade, wave cadences, alum cliffs walking track to name a few – support this impression. It was something our teacher Don was always keenly aware of, and Simon, and later myself, responded to this through our own music.
As Simon’s music has developed the Tasmanian titles have disappeared, but remnants remain – birdsong has become a constant theme, right through from those early Tasmanian works to the most recent. The Concerto for Oboe, Clarinet & Windband is full of birds. At its premiere in Hobart (with myself as conductor) I was struck by how much the piece reminded me of the early works – but now with a newer, harder edge.
In 2000, Simon left Tasmania, first moving to South Australia and then to Germany. In that time his music has changed its outward character. No longer full of the poetic titles of his Tasmanian works (although occasionally a well chosen subtitle), the new works are the Klaviertrio and Klaviertrio II, Gitarrenkonzert and Concerto for Soprano Saxophone & Orchestra, the wind band pieces Melodic Variations and the Concerto for Oboe Clarinet & Windband, along with an impressive quantity of chamber music – especially for the guitar.
Simon has always had a great affinity for the guitar. It is his instrument as a performer and his output for the guitar as a solo instrument or as part of an ensemble is becoming very substantial.
This leads me back to my sentence – a highly prolific composer. In our field this can sometimes be seen to be a curse. Simon is blessed with tremendous facility – his inspiration flows seemingly effortlessly, however it is born out of an uncompromising work ethic. While very many composers (and I include myself) wait for their inspiration, and hope to create maybe a handful of works in any one year, Simon has always been able to channel his inspiration into actual music through hard work. His recent works are often big works – in both size and scope. And they are complex works – the product of a highly developed mind.
And it is here that the enigma comes in, for as Simon has developed as a composer the disparate components of his personality have fused. His early love of popular music (no doubt linked to his instrument, the guitar) has resurfaced in recent works. He has tremendous melodic gifts and is not afraid to show them – the big tunes in the saxophone concerto and the guitar concerto are prime examples (tunes you could go home whistling).
However, these more accessible elements are often juxtaposed with extreme complexity, and, for example in that remarkable end to the middle movement of the Concerto for Soprano Saxophone & Orchestra, aggressive reinterpretation of popular idioms.
The Tasmanian element is still present in all those birdsongs – I can not think of a work of recent years which doesn’t use birdsong in some way, although the Klaviertrio II is an example of the birdsongs serving as interludes, and the Concerto for Oboe, Clarinet & Windband is an example of the birdsongs informing the music which emerges from them.
The desire to create great complexity is present – as it had been from his conservatorium days. What is enigmatic is the impression that this gives his music – emotions are clearly in play, but they are often confused.
The Concerto for Soprano Saxophone & Orchestra is a good example of a piece where the listener is drawn through a rollercoaster ride of emotional shifts – beauty coupled with aggression, accessibility coupled with avant garde complexity, and ending with emotions of confused resignation. It is a remarkable ride, and I recommend it heartily.
Simon Barber is a composer for all musical genres. He is happy to compose for anyone who is interested, whether that be professional soloist, community band or classroom music. I will finish by talking about one of these – Melodic Variations for wind band, composed for me and my Hobart City Concert Band in 2005.
Melodic Variations is one of those pieces Simon keeps telling me he isn’t sure about. I think it might be a truly great work. It is, either way, a great example of his concern for writing for people. It is not the first time Simon has written for my band, and will I’m sure not be the last. He has developed a sense of what the band (and the conductor!) will want to play, whilst still creating his own distinctive music. The piece is a new one, and as such is full of the complexity that typifies Simon’s recent music.
The first movement is difficult to play, but accessible in style – absolutely melodic at all times and, although the form is complex, the musicians are rewarded by playing this music.
The second movement is full of birdsongs, beautiful cluster chords (much of Simon’s recent music uses clusters as a harmonic basis), and the most wonderful oboe soliloquy. This movement is amongst the most delicately beautiful I have conducted.
The third movement is one of the most difficult pieces of music I have ever performed – difficult to play, difficult to conduct and rehearse, and difficult to listen to – music which is not emotionally content within itself. One rehearsal I worked through this movement for two hours – and it suddenly made sense!
This is perhaps Simon’s greatest gift as a composer – his music rewards work. It rewards those who are prepared to listen deeply, and to performers who are prepared to look hard. That is what truly great music should do, and in his best work, of which this piece is certainly one, Simon Barber writes great music.