What are the special challenges/pleasures of working on a commissioned piece?
I think my approach to commissions has changed slightly over the years: I’ve come to realise that every commission should be approached differently. When I was a young composer, often commissions were made by organisations, somewhat at arms length, and I was simply asked to write a piece fitting certain parameters, sometimes not even knowing what the occasion might be for the premiere. It was really up to me to just go away and come up with an idea that would fit the ensemble. I found that very helpful, as it gave me a lot of artistic freedom in those early years and allowed me to develop very much in my own way – even if that meant making mistakes sometimes! In more recent years I’ve had some commissions directly from individuals or the performers themselves, and those I approach in a slightly different way, because I like to enter into a dialogue with the commissioner. I find it a rewarding experience: to find out what it is that they want from the piece, how they would like me to write for them etc., and that feeds back into my creative process, without overtaking it. They may not always have a strong feeling about what they want me to write, but when they do, I try to fit my own ideas to theirs in a way that couldn’t have happened without the collaboration. This was the case when the poet Chinwe D John approached me about setting her ‘Kingdoms’ cycle, for example: she had a clear idea of how her lyrics should be expressed, but was also flexible about what exactly I might come up with.
What are the special challenges/pleasures of working with particular musicians, singers, ensembles or orchestras?
Although I do most of the composing work in isolation, working with musicians is a great pleasure, and once I’m in a rehearsal room I really feel at home – even though I’m not playing myself. There’s something about the moment of hearing the music for the first time, discussing it with the musicians and responding to what they’re doing; that, in some senses, is the arrival point of the piece for me, rather than when it comes before the public. Because I’m hearing it myself for the first time and working with the musicians on it – that’s where the realisation of all the work really takes place. Sometimes you find a musician or ensemble that really understands your music straight away, gives it their all and brings something special to it. I don’t like singling people out, but I’ve had amazing work experiences with singers Jenni France, Lotte Betts-Dean and Paul Carey Jones in the last few years – it’s just so rewarding to hear people put in so much work and dedication, and there’s also a sense of their belief in the music. I also feel that working with Hebrides Ensemble and its director Will Conway, who recorded a retrospective album of my chamber music last year. I’ve worked with Hebrides a number of times, and when we got together right at the end of the last covid lockdown to record the album, I was moved by the level of focus, determination and interpretative insight they brought to my music.
And in the early years of my career, I was nurtured by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra as their Composer in Association – a whole orchestra of new music experts, most of whom were more than happy to give me their opinions and advice (usually a pleasure, occasionally a challenge!). For me there’s still a sense of a special relationship when I work with that orchestra, even though many of the players have changed.
Of which works are you most proud?
Generally the biggest ones! Not because they’re big, and certainly not all of them; but because those are the pieces I’ve put the most of myself into. I’m very proud of the operas I’ve written with Louise Welsh, particularly The Devil Inside and Anthropocene. But I think my favourite piece of mine is Prometheus Symphony because it pulls together so many of the things I care about musically – dramatic and narrative singing, poetry, orchestral colour, argument between tonality and atonality, and pacing – and it’s focused on a subject I’ve been thinking about for a very long time. When I heard it, I had a very strong feeling that it was exactly the kind of piece I had always wanted to write. It’s only been played once…
How would you characterise your compositional language?
It’s now too varied for me to characterise. It used to be, broadly speaking, non-tonal and modernist, but with a focus on pitch and harmony. In recent years I’ve started to embrace tonality more – but it’s often my own kind of tonality, sometimes referencing Scottish traditional melody, or reconfiguring the expectations of triads and how they are related. I sort of had to find my own way into tonality and not take it as a given. But now that I have (and I haven’t abandoned the modernism) I feel I can express more parts of myself, or whatever characters I may be composing, and with a greater sense of integrity.
How do you work?
I try to stay open to ideas as much as possible, as I never know when they are going to pop into my head or take flight. That means having a few different ways of working: in my head, recording on devices, sketching on manuscript paper (I’m almost never without it), at a computer or at the piano. Most often, initial ideas are sketched on paper, developed a bit at the piano, then transferred to notation software. Then they take on a life of their own in that medium, and nowadays I do most of the work on the computer, which I find very fluid and natural (even though I wrote everything by hand until 2012).
As a musician, what is your definition of success?
I can judge a work successful on its own terms, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a ‘success’ for others. So I would generally only worry about intrinsic artistic success and not concern myself with what others think. Having said that, maybe I only say that because a lot of my pieces – particularly the orchestral ones, which often took ages to write – have not had a very successful performance history. In all honesty I wouldn’t mind a bit more success by that more common definition too! But I still think most of them were artistic successes even if they were commercial failures. That’s the price of setting your own standards.
What have been the greatest challenges of your career so far?
Probably the last few years, when I haven’t had enough commissions. I discovered during the pandemic that I could find ways of making and releasing music that didn’t involve commissions (usually my main source of income), and this opened up many new doors for me creatively. But everyone needs to earn a living; so in the end it becomes unsustainable and exhausting, as other activities steadily use up all the time that would have been spent composing. The truth is that for me commissions are not signifiers of prestige or success, but a means of gaining more time to write music, which has always been the most important thing to me. There is also something intrinsically motivating about composing something that has been asked for – it feels more purposeful to write for the actual performers, or a situation where you know the music will be heard.
What advice would you give to young/aspiring composers?
Diversify your output (i.e. work in more than one medium), and also your geographical reach, if possible. Don’t listen to anyone who tells you what kind of music you should be writing. Seek advice from a variety of people you admire, but then make up your own mind.
What’s the one thing in the music industry we’re not talking about but you think we should be?
The lack of a stable or adequate income for composers. Almost no-one knows how much composers should be paid for a commission – including the composers themselves, and especially younger ones – as in the UK we are not officially allowed to get together and establish minimum rates because of competition laws. And if we don’t have basic agreement on how much, say, a full-time mid-career composer might reasonably expect to earn from commissions in a year, we can’t realistically make the argument for more funding, because nobody knows how much is needed! It’s all a guessing game at the moment, and more transparency and cooperation is needed to make commissioning fair for composers.
What next – where would you like to be in 10 years?
I am bad at imagining the future…it’s a blind spot. But there are some big projects I would like to have realised within the next 10 years: an opera based on Macbeth; a concert-length work contemplating the history and environment of the Highlands; another symphony; a piano concerto. I also have a dream of my work being performed on the big stages of certain opera houses…but I have learned to be patient! As long as I still have plenty of time to do what I love – writing new pieces – I’ll be happy.
What is your present state of mind?
I am feeling pretty content, and cautiously optimistic about future plans – though I could do with getting my teeth into a big project soon. I have just set up a new working room in the house, with a view of the garden. And there I am really enjoying working on a new song cycle for the tenor Glen Cunningham, setting poems by Robert Louis Stevenson. These at first seem quite straightforward, often radiating positivity tinged with humility; but as I’m composing the songs I’m discovering greater depth hidden in the poems’ long lines, and at times a wistful, even melancholic undercurrent. Perfect for Autumn composition
Born in Inverness in 1976, Stuart MacRae has established himself as one of the most distinctive of contemporary composers, writing music of elemental power and emotional subtlety. His works include a Violin Concerto (2001), Hamartia for cello and ensemble (2004), and Gaudete for soprano and orchestra (2008), all of which have been performed at the BBC Proms. Works for the stage include the dance-opera Echo and Narcissus (2007) and the opera Ghost Patrol (2012), a collaboration with writer Louise Welsh for Scottish Opera and Music Theatre Wales, which won the 2013 South Bank Sky Arts Award for Opera and was shortlisted for an Olivier Award.
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