[Interviews]
Interview with Tobias Fischer - Fifteen Questions (2024)
When I listen to music, I see shapes, objects and colours. What happens in your body when you're listening? As far as I now - nothing happens to my body when listening to music. Of course - there are bodily functions of which I have no direct control - but I do not think that music or sounds have anything to do with it. The effect that music has on me is an intellectual one - either in perception or appreciation - and that listening to music is a thoughtful intellectual process - and not a bodily one.
I do not experience any form of synesthesia - and so I do not hear colours or taste sounds. However - my work as a composer is profoundly influenced by the visual arts - particularly different styles of geometric or painterly abstraction. This work includes; early twentieth century paintings by Kazimir Malevich (notably his black square paintings) - Olga Rozanova - Piet Mondrian - and Josef Albers; the abstract expressionist paintings of Mark Rothco - Jackson Pollack - and Barnet Newman; and the colour field paintings of Morris Louis. All of my compositions from 2010 to date have been based on a fixed structural grid - with the different sounds and tones of the composition laid out in a formal way across this grid system. (See more about the grid below). This method of composition has been influenced by the grid paintings of Agnes Martin and Bridget Riley - and the minimalist sculptures of Donald Judd and Carl Andre. The above artists and work have informed my own compositional practice at a very deep level - and my work would be nothing without this visual inspiration.
Do you listen with your eyes open or closed? One of my favourite ways of listening to music is to follow the music with a score - and - of course - I need my eyes open for this.
Score Reading Apart from my mother teaching me to read music - and attending evening classes in composition when I was a teenager - I have had no formal or academic training in the composition of music - so I am largely self-taught. Score reading - of reading a score while listening to the music - looking at the ‘dots’ on the music score - and to see how these symbols or ‘code’ related to the sounds of the music being played - was a very important part in my self-study process as a musician and composer.
Reading the score of a composition while listening gives me greater insight into the construction of the music - and of how the composer has used different instruments to highlight different harmonic or melodic elements of the music - or how the instruments have been used to create different textures and timbres. This gives a deeper understanding and appreciation for the music that is long lasting.
Another way that I appreciate music - and if I want to give a piece of music my full attention - is to gaze out of the window while listening. This may seem contradictory - but gazing out of the window helps me to concentrate more on the music - it blocks out any other thoughts - apart from thoughts about the music and the sounds I am hearing.
Entering/creating new worlds through music has always exerted a strong pull on me. What do you think you are drawn to most when it comes to listening to and creating music? The linear movement of tones - and the combination of tones to create chords and harmonic structures - is something that interests me - whether the music is by Thomas Tallis - Franz Schubert - Anton Webern - or Morton Feldman. It is the tonal movement through time that I find truly inspiring - both as a listener and as a composer.
Asked to define what music is - the composer Igor Stravinsky replied that music is the organisation of tones. Asked the same question - the composer Edgard Varèse said that music was the organisation of sound. I am going to side with Stravinsky in his description of music and composition - and feel that tones and harmonic structures are the essential and fundamental components of music as an art form. There seems to be almost infinite possibilities of combinations of using the twelve tones of the equally tempered chromatic scale. In the "equal-tempered" scale - each semitone is equal to a ratio of the twelfth root of 2, or 1.05946. The relationship between music and mathematics is an interesting one - and is something that I would like to explore more fully in my future work - especially within the concept of infinity.
The American composers Charles Ives described his last great work - the ‘Universe Symphony’ as ‘a ‘universe in tones’ and through the symphony - and though the use of tones - to be able to gaze into the infinite.
I am very interested in the development of Western (Occidental) tonal music; from early ideas about music by the Greek philosopher Pythagoras; to the Tudor period music of Thomas Tallis and William Byrd; the baroque music of J.S. Bach; the classical period compositions of Ludwig von Beethoven and Franz Schubert; the modernist compositions of Igor Stravinsky - Arnold Schoenberg - Alban Berg - Anton Webern - and Charles Ives; the jazz composers and musicians John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy; and the ultra minimalism of Morton Feldman.
By basing a large percentage of my work on using tones and harmonic structures - my compositions become an engagement with the past - not its destruction or erasure - but of its perpetual development and movement through time - in which the past becomes an important part of the present future. I regard my own work as a continuation of this process.
I have always listened to the music of Bach - and have found that the formal purity of his music to be very inspiring. I feel that there are mores secrets in Western tone-based music that are yet to be revealed. As a professional musician - I played the flute - I used to love playing Bach’s ‘A minor partita’ for flute solo - and that once one gets beyond the technical difficulties of performance - the music pulls one along and one loses sense of self - as if you are moving through the music - as well as the music is moving through you. It all sounds rather mystical - which is something that I do not like - but there are no other words to describe the experience. As a composer Bach - as well as other of the great composers - was touched by something deeply profound - and he passes that profoundness onto the listeners and performers of his music. There is also something similar - for me - in the music of Anton Webern and Morton Feldman.
One of the ways in which I engage within the tonal continuity of music is to use harmonic or melodic fragments - or tone cells or twelve tone rows - from composers of previous generations.
These include compositions from my albums ‘Today Comes From Yesterday’ and ‘All Together Through Time’ My ‘Today Comes From Yesterday’ album consists of three compositions based on twelve-tone rows from three of the leading composers of the twentieth century;
‘Composition 2018.04 (Untitled)’ is based on the tone-row from Anton Webern’s ‘Variations Opus 27’ (1937):
‘Composition 2021.10 (Untitled)’ is based on the tone-row from Arnold Schoenberg's ‘Suite for Piano’ Op 25 (1921) - and alternates singe tones with dyads. The composition was first performed at Iklectik - London - 20.10.2021 - which was the hundredth anniversary of Schoenberg's composition.
‘Composition 2022.05 (Untitled)’ is based on the tone-row from Igor Stravinsky’s ‘Epitaphium’ (1959).
And the album ‘All Together Through Time’ include a work - ‘Composition 2023.04 (Untitled)’ - that consists of alternating tones from high and low registers - and is based on tone-rows from leading composers of the twentieth century - with tone-rows from Alban Berg - Morton Feldman - Elisabeth Lutyens - Arnold Schoenberg - Karlheinz Stockhausen - and Anton Webern.
The Greek philosopher Heraclitus claimed that "everything flows” - highlighting the constant change in the universe. Yet - the idea of "all together through time" suggests that there is permanence amidst change - and that a thread of continuity runs through the ever-shifting landscape of existence.
On a more practical musical level - the phrase of ‘All Together Through Time’ points to the idea that composers and musicians across generations are bound together by shared experiences - compositions - musical ideas and histories. Our actions and decisions ripple through time - affecting future generations and intertwining our destinies.
According to scientific studies, we make our deepest and most incisive musical experiences between the ages of 13-16. What did music mean to you at that age and what’s changed since then? My mother was a musician - and played the piano and the accordion. She did not perform - or have an interest in - classical music - but - instead - liked playing the popular music of her time - such as music hall songs and songs from musicals. She was twenty in 1940 - and during the Blitz (the bombing of London) she used to take refuge in the bomb-shelters that were in London to help to protect the population. Some of these bomb shelters were deep in the metro stations. My mother used to take her accordion and would play for the crowds to help to cheer them up. They were all very frightened and scared from the bombs that were raining down above them - but having a 'sing-song' - with music being played by my mother - was a good way to boost morale.
We had an old upright piano at home - and my mother taught me to read music when I was about four-years-old. She also taught me basic piano skills. I also learnt to play the recorder when I started going to infants school at the age of five. The recorder was an instrument that I was able to quickly master and I could sight-read from the age of six. The piano that we had at home had a piano seat - and there was a pull-out drawer that contained old yellowed copies of vocal and piano sheet music from the 1930’’s and 1940’s. I would play the vocal part on my recorder and my mother would accompany me on the piano. It was an idyllic way to learn about - and experience - music. One of my favourite songs to play was ‘Brother Can You Spare a Dime’ which was a popular song from the 1930’s Depression. It’s a very poignant piece of music - which I still find to be profoundly moving.
When I was seven - my uncle Wallace gave me an old wind-up portable gramophone that played 78 rpm records - and also a selection of classical music - including Brahms’ First Symphony - Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony - Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and Egmont Overture. The first record that that I put onto the gramophone was the Egmont Overture - and I was completely overwhelmed by the opening orchestral chords. It was an earth shattering experience - and one that I shall never forget.
There was a very good and well-stocked leading library where I lived in Greenwich - and so I would regularly borrow records by the great baroque and classical composers - which helped in my musical self-education. On one occasion I stumbled upon an album that included a recording of Anton Webern’s ‘Symphony’ Op.21 - and hearing this music was another important turning point for me. I was ten years old - and I had now discovered avant-garde music. This experience was to change and influence my musical thinking forever. From the same library I borrowed Rene Leibowitz’s book ‘Schoenberg and His School’ (pub. 1949) - which gave me greater insight into the understanding of twelve-tone serial music composition - and I was quick to start composing using Schoenberg’s twelve-tone technique.
The third important turning came at the age of thirteen. I was already playing the tenor saxophone at this time - and was interested in not only the music of Arnold Schoenberg and Anton Webern - but also the music of the contemporary jazz masters - such as John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy. Ornette Coleman was another favourite musician - and I bought his album ‘Free Jazz’ - this music being the jazz equivalent of the twelve-tone compositions of Schoenberg and Webern. But what was important for me was the album artwork. The album was a 12 inch vinyl - and the artwork was the abstract expressionist painting ‘White Light’ (1954) by the artist Jackson Pollack. This was an introduction into a whole new world of contemporary art - and which would eventually became such an important influence on my own musical thinking.
Tell me about one or two of your early pieces that you're still proud of (or satisfied with) – and why you're content with them. Only one composition stands out from my early work - which was entitled ‘Sextet: In Memoriam Eric Dolphy’. This was composed in 1964 - and was composed as part of evening class that I attended at Goldsmith College in London. The class was run by the South African-born composer Stanly Glasser - who was interested in ‘Third-Stream’ music - which was a combination of contemporary classical music and modern jazz. It was a combination of all of my interests in music.
Eric Dolphy was an important musician - and I was greatly influenced by his style of playing. Sadly he died in June 1964 - and so I decided to dedicate my new work in his honour. The instruments of the sextet were flute - alto saxophone - bass clarinet (which were the three instruments that Dolphy played) - plus trombone - violin - and double bass. The instrumentation was inspired by Edgard Varèse’s composition ‘Octandre’. My work was first performed at an end-of-year concert at Goldsmiths - and the performance included three of the leading British jazz musicians of the time; Trevor Watts (alto saxophone) - Paul Rutherford (trombone) - and Barry Guy (double bass). The music was a combination of Varèse-like instrumental textures - and also used a twelve-tone row - plus the jazz elements. The composition was perfectly played by all of the musicians - everything worked very well - and so I was happy with the result.
Even though my current work is very different from that of 1964 - there are still ideas from ‘Sextet: In Memoriam Eric Dolphy’. that still persist within my musical time continuum.
What is your current your studio or workspace like? What instruments, tools, equipment, and space do you need to make music? As a minimalist I live a very basic and simple monk-like existence. I live in a studio flat - which has a little kitchenette at one end - and by work table at the other. I sleep on a camp-bed - and my only possessions are a small collection of books (most of my reading material is digital) and different rocks and stones that I have collected on my many walks. I do not have a couch or a TV set. My apartment is not minimal in a fashionable slick sense - but minimal as in a military-like installation - and so everything is very functional and utilitarian. It is an uncluttered existence that I find very inspiring.
All of my compositions since 2010 have been produced digitally - and I use Ableton Live has my prime production tool. Ableton is very intuitive and flexible - and I am able to get my musical ideas realised very quickly. I have a small collection of digital synthesisers from Native Instruments - but most of my production is done with the instruments within Ableton Live environment.
I use physical modelling and FM synthesis to produce the tones and other sonic elements of my compositions. Between 2010 to 2020 I used distortion on some of the sounds to create a level of timbral complexity - and ring modulation for harmonic complexity - but stoped using these effects after 2020.
In the words of William Wordsworth - who described the life with his sister Dorothy in the Lake District as ‘simple living and high thinking’. This is an ideal to which I try to aspire.
From the earliest sketches to the finished piece, tell me about the creative process for your current release. The ‘From Here to There’ album’ - which was released in July 2024 - consists of three compositions: Composition 2023.02 (Untitled) Composition 2023.03 (Untitled) Composition 2023.09 (Untitled) https://bernhardliving.bandcamp.com/album/from-here-to-there
Like the titles of my other albums and releases - there is no direct relationship between the title and the content of the compositions. The compositions themselves are titled/catalogued with the year in which they were composed - and the order within that year. For example ‘Composition 2023.02 (Untitled)’ was the second composition composed in 2023 - and ‘Composition 2023.03 (Untitled)’ was the third - etc.
All of my compositions since 2010 have been produced using a formal grid system - and I find that working within a rules-based order - and one with clearly defined barriers and boundaries - gives me more creative freedom than working with an anarchistic ‘anything goes’ approach. (See below for more about grid and rules)
From Here to There The ‘From Here to There’ album consists of three experimental tone-based compositions that explore the use of different harmonic structures in non-traditional musical forms. The basic ideas for these compositions were sketched out in a notebook - then later developed and expanded upon within the Ableton environment. The first stage of the production process is to create the MIDI files - either for single tones or chords. When this process is complete I then export the MIDI into audio - and re-import the audio to use as the audio assets and components of the compositions. The final stage is to place the audio files on the timeline in accordance with the ideas that I had developed in the notes. This is the ‘composition’ part of the work. I sometimes use the artificial intelligence chatbot GPT to create random number ables that help to determine the order of the tones and chords (see more below). I do the mixing while I am arranging the sounds. As I am not making dance or pop music - I do not feel the need ‘master’ the master audio output.
‘Composition 2023.02 (Untitled)’ consists of a tone-line moving in semi-tones and minor thirds - within a pitch range between A1 to C3. It suggests never ending permutation and endless movement through time.
Composition 2023.03 (Untitled) is based on a seven-note tone-cell of C - C# - D - D# - E - F# - A# - and which appear as two-note dyads and three-note trichords. All the elements are of the same length - and the sounds move at a glacial pace through the time-line.
Composition 2023.09 (Untitled) is based on the chord sequence (changes) from John Coltrane’s 1960’s jazz composition ‘Giant Steps’.
The GPT artificial intelligence programme was utilised in the production of these compositions - and created randoms number tables which were used to determine the order of the tones in Composition 2023.02 and Composition 2023.02 - and the order and length of the tones in Composition 2023.09.. AI did not compose the works - but was used merely as a digital tool to accomplish the painstaking and time-consuming work which would have been difficult to accomplish manually. From the start - I had a clear general overview of what the compositions would be and sound like. There was clear purpose and intent on my part.
Titles are used simply to identify each album project - they are also used to give an indication of my philosophical interests and concerns.
The title "From here to there" is a philosophical concept that encapsulates several themes and interpretations. Philosophically - this phrase signifies the process of change and transformation. It highlights the movement from one state of being or understanding to another. This can be related to the development and evolution of ideas - or broader social changes. It also refers to the passage of time - where "here" represents the present moment and "there" represents the future. Philosophers like Heraclitus have explored the nature of time and change - emphasising that life is in constant flux. Or - in a more literal sense - ‘from here to there’ addresses physical movement through space.
What role and importance do rituals have for you, both as an artist and a listener? I must confess that I do not fully understand this question. By rituals do you mean ‘habits’? I do not engage in any kind of ritual in order to work. I work all of the time. I was a professional musician for thirty years - and so I have got used to treating music as a job - it is a means of employment - and I have a driven work ethic. I do not wait around for inspiration - but just get down to work and start composing. Composting is a fundamental part of my existence.
For me - composting is like breathing - I do it without thinking about it - and without it I would be non-existent. Are you acting out parts of your personality in your music which you couldn't or wouldn't in your daily life? If so, which are these? My life and my music are one and the same thing. My music is very minimalist - and this is reflected in my austere monk-like existence. I have reduced my music down to its fundamental basics - and I have down the same with my life.
Late producer SOPHIE said: “You have the possibility [...] to generate any texture, and any sound. So why would any musician want to limit themselves?” What's your take on that? I think it is important to live and work within clearly defined limits and rules. I actually feel more free when I working with restraints and within a rules-based order. This may sound contradictory - but having too much freedom is limiting and constricting. I find that working within rules - even if the rules are of my own making - to be very inspiring. I do not need to have access to everything - but by using rules I can bring about a state of order from the chaos. Consequently - an anarchistic ‘anything goes’ approach is detrimental to my creativity - it is not inspiring - nor is it culturally fulfilling. One of the reasons why Arnold Schoenberg developed the twelve-tone system - also known as dodecaphony - was in response to the need for a new compositional method - or rules-based musical order - that could provide structure and coherence in the increasingly dissonant and atonal music of the early 20th century. As first sight the twelve-tone system seems very restrictive - but it gave birth to a whole new world of musical masterpieces from not only Schoenberg - but also from Anton Webern - Alban Berg - Karlheinz Stockhuasen - Elisabeth Lutyens - and many others.
The artist Piet Mondrian - who was a contemporary of Schoenberg’s - painted with only the three primary colours: red - yellow and blue - plus black grid-line and white ground. Working within this very restricted palette he was able to create works of lasting genius. Working within a rules-based order - within boundaries and restrictions - helps to focus the mind - and creates simplicity and clearness of thought. It also seem seems to offer almost infinite possibilities - whereas having no rules seems to limit creative possibilities. This may seem contradictory - but from my own experience - having limes creates a situation of being limitlessness - and that own is able to get a glimpse - even if for only a brief moment - of the infinite.
One of the compositional limits that I impose upon myself is to use a grid structure for my work. All of my compositions are based on a fixed unchanging grid system - and - as such - each composition is partially pre-made and exists before the process of composition takes place. This signature structure already exists - and is waiting for the content to be produced and inserted into the form of the grid. There is also a limited number of uniform durations of the sound elements - which are determined by the structure of the grid.
The grid is a formal compositional and primary structural space. It is a fixed system with it own internal rules - but also one that allows for a certain degree of freedom. The use of the grid creates balance between freedom and order.
My compositions consist of uniform repeated serial units that are contained within a non-hierarchical structure. They are related to each other through the determination of the systemic grid - with the grid taking the form of a compositional DNA. The grid is an underlying order.
Each composition consists of 768 bars - which is then sub-divided into three sections of 256 bars - which in turn are sub-divided into two sets of 128 bars - or four sets of sixty-four bars - or eight sets of 32 bars - etc. The content of the composition consists of elements that are 1 - 2 - 4 - 8 - 16 - 32 - 64 - 128 - 256 or 768 bars long. The compositions are also of the same tempo - which is one-hundred-and twenty beats-per-minute - and so consequently all of the compositions are of the same duration - which is twenty-five and thirty-six seconds.
There is equivalence of all the parts of the composition and consist of repetitions or discrete incidents. Consequently - there is no compositional hierarchy - cadences - musically driven emotion - nor are there any dramatic moments or climaxes. The compositions do not move forward to an end goal or resolution - there is no end point or conclusion. There is no analogy - metaphor - symbolism - and - as such - I do not regard my music to be an expression of emotions or feelings - but as an expression of musical ideas - and of the unfolding of time.
Do you feel that your music or your work as an artist needs to have a societal purpose or a responsibility to anyone but yourself? This is always a very difficult question for any artist to answer. On one level art - music - and literature are superfluous to society as a whole. Society cannot function without plumbers - electricians - engineers - farmers - nurses - or soldiers - and it can exist very well without artists and other creatives. On the other hand - art and music etc. is evidence that society has reached a high level of civilisation. High quality music and art can help to generate high level thinking - which would have a benefit to society.
My compositions do not have a specific function - or an end gaol - other than to exists as a piece of music. However - one important aspect of my compositions is that it should hopefully create a state of ‘ataraxia (ἀταραξία)’ within the listener. The idea of ataraxia was put forward by the Greek philosopher Epicurus (341 - 270 BC) - and has a number of translations - including “equanimity” and “lucid calm”. It is not the calm of a soporific - it is not a drug or a tranquilliser - but a calm of meditative insight - clarity of mind - and thoughtful creativity. It is the calm of lucid heightened awareness.
I regard many of my compositions as forms of technological mediation. They are not - of course - a replacement for meditation or prayer in the formal sense - but - hopefully - create a musical context that inspires - and is conducive to - higher-level thinking.
Once a piece is done and released, do you find it important that listeners understand it in a specific way? How do you deal with “misunderstandings?” In general - music is often considered an abstract art form as it does not directly represent or depict tangible objects - people - or scenes in the way that visual art - like painting or sculpture - often does. Instead - music conveys meaning - emotion - and ideas through sound - structure - and rhythm. This abstract nature allows for a wide range of interpretations and emotional responses - making music deeply subjective and open to personal experience.
With regards to my own work - my compositions are deliberately abstract in an austere and reductionist way. For myself - existence is its own meaning - and the only meanings of my compositions are the sounds - tones - and chords that are heard. Likewise - Kazimir Malevich’s painting ‘Black Square’ (1915) is just what it is - a black square - but there have been hundreds of papers - articles - and books written about it - both interpretations and mis-interpretations - which all somehow miss the point.
When my compositions are published and released into the public domain - then I lose all control of what people think about the music. They either get it - or they don’t. And there is not very much that I can do to change their perceptions or feelings about the wrk.
Sound, song, and rhythm are all around us, from animal noises to the waves of the ocean. What, if any, are some of the most moving experiences you've had with these non-human-made sounds? In how far would you describe them as “musical”?
I think that ‘music’ - and the composing of it - is a purely human activity - and that sounds from animals are mainly functional and practical in intent. There are alarm calls - territory calls - songs (which are also used to mark territory) - and songs and sounds to create a bond between the members of a herd or a flock (notice how finches keep ‘twittering’ to each other.
I am lucky to live near the New Forest national park - which is a large area of forests - woods - bogs - and open moorland in the South East of England'
I spend a least two full days a week hiking in the woods and open moorland - and I get to see - and hear - lots of different animals - and have have learnt about their many different patterns of behaviour. The list is extensive - but I like how blackbirds sing when it is raining - especially in the spring and summer. And robins sing in the winter when it is cold. There are the territory calls of cuckoos - and the territory ‘drumming’ of woodpeckers - both in the spring. And in the autumn - during the rutting season - there are the mating calls (bellowing) of the stags.
When I am walking though the forest I am aware that I am disturbing and frightening the animals - and there are alarms calls from blackbirds - woodpeckers - and herons - as they take flight in front of me. Where I live I often hear owls calling at night - and also the ‘yelping’ of foxes. And during the day there are lots of small birds such as wrens - finches - and blue tits - with their songs - and the larger birds of the corvid family - such as rooks - carrion crows - magpies - and jays - who at different times of the day make quite a bit of collective noise. While It is all very inspiring and interesting - and certainly great to hear these sounds — I would not regard them as music as such.
We can surround us with sound every second of the day. The great pianist Glenn Gould even considered this the ultimate delight. How do you see that yourself and what importance does silence hold? I think it is essential to make space in one’s life when there is very little going to - and so silence is important. One should have the ability to enjoy ‘nothing’.
I try to read for about three hours a day - this is in the evening - and I do not have music playing when I read. If it is late a night - then there might be a call of an owl - or the bark of a fox - and I would miss this if music was playing.
Silence plays an important part in many of my compositions. However - my intentions for using silence are very different from those of the composer John Cage. Cage used silence in his music as a way to challenge conventional notions of what music is - and to explore the boundaries between sound and silence. For Cage - the ambient sounds of the environment were integral - and as important - to the music being performed. The sounds of the ‘silence’ that occur naturally during the performance—sounds that would typically be ignored or considered irrelevant.
In my own work - the silences within a composition are an important structural component - an empty space between the sounds - and that the sounds of the compositions are heard in relationships to the silences. Silence is used in a structural way - and is both form and content of the composition.
Silence within a digitally determined composition is a form of ‘technological nothingness’ - and I am interested in how the individual sounds/tones are suspended in the technological void. Also connected to the idea of silence is ‘negative space’ - which is a term often used by architects - with negative space referring to the areas in a building or structure that are left intentionally empty or unoccupied. This concept is integral to the design process and plays a critical role in the overall aesthetics - functionality - and experience of the space.
I am very interested in Greek and Roman temples of the Classical period - and in the formal way in which they were designed and constructed - in particular the Parthenon in Athens. The architects Ictinus and Callicrates used the algebraic equation x=2y + 1 to build the temple - so its proportions would be perfect - and that it would form a fully integrated mathematical whole. The equation was used to determine the number of columns - the distance between columns - and the size of the cella - which is the interior space of the temple.
The existence of empty space within the Parthenon is similar to the ‘negative space’ used by sculptors such as Barbara Hepworth and Donald Judd. Within my own work - the negative space and the empty voids of sculpture and architecture become the silent empty spaces within the music.
With all of these different influences which have come from different periods in history - my music becomes a combination of both classical and modernist ideals.
Do you feel as though writing or performing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more 'mundane' tasks? Mundane tasks are just that - mundane - and mundane tasks are not examples of higher level thinking. Anyone is quite capable of making a good cup of coffee - but not anyone can compose a great symphony of any other enduring work of art. Composing is a higher level activity - and is not on the same level as making an apple pie - no matter how good the apple pie might be. Work created from high level thinking endures through time - and often become ‘timeless’. The compositions of Thomas Tallis have endued for four hundred years - the music of Bach for thee hundred - the music of Beethoven and Schubert for two hundred - and the music of Schoenberg and Webern for one hundred years. This is work of lasting value. For everything else - then time will tell.
What is a music related question that you would like to ask yourself – and what's your answer to it? An important question that I asked myself some time ago - was ‘is it possible to compose experimental music based on the tonal system of the Western (Occidental) music tradition? For the music to be centred around tones - was exclusive of sound or noise - and was to be produced by digital means within the context of new computer-based technologies.
It was also important for the music to be original and unique - to be the output of an individual voice that was independent of current trends or fashions in the musical world. With regards to originality - the composer John Cage said ‘if there are two people making the same kind of music, then that’s one person too many’. I have endeavoured to not be the ‘one person too many’ - and to create experimental tone-based music that is different from music of the past - but at the same time to creates links to the past and acknowledge the importance of my musical predecessors.
In many ways I feel that I have achieved the gaols that were set out and outlined in my original question - and the answers can be heard in all the music that I have produced since 2010. See my Bandcamp page for my complete work.
Please recommend two pieces of art (book, painting, piece of music) to our readers that they should know about.
Dorothy Wordsworth ‘The Grasmere Journals’ (1800 - 1803) Dorothy Wordsworth - the sister of the poet William Wordsworth - kept a diary for most of her life - and the ‘The Grasmere Journals’ document a three-year period when they were living at Dove Cottage in in the village of Grasmere in the Lake District - which is a area of outstanding natural beauty in the northern part of England. Both Dorothy and William were keen hikers - and walked the hills and mountains of the area - including scaling the heights of Scafell Pike - which is the highest mountain in England. In her diary - Dorothy describes their experiences of nature and their life of elegant simplicity - with parts of dairy giving inspiration to William as basis for many of is poems - including ‘Daffodils’ and ‘Alice Fell’.
Mark Rothko ‘Seagram Murals’ (1958-59) Elegance and simplicity are also key components of these following two examples of high-level creativity. Mark Rothko’s ‘Seagram Murals’ were a high-point of his career - and consist of nine large-scale canvases painted in subdued colours of maroon - dark red - and black. They are truly sublime - and inspire in the viewer a state of awe that is similar to the feelings felt when surrounded by the hills and mountains of the Lake District as described Dorothy and William Wordsworth in their prose and poems. Mark Rothko’s ‘Seagram Murals’ are usually exhibited in a dedicated space at the Tate Modern in London.
Morton Feldman ‘Piano (Three Hands)’ (1957) The beauty of Morton Feldman’s composition ‘Piano (Three Hands)’ is that it can be easily performed by musicians who have only limited keyboards skills - but only if they have the right mental attitude and the ability to reach a meditative state of mind. The composition requires intense concentration - from both the performers and listeners - as the sounds of the composition - which are single tones and chords - move at an extremely slow glacial pace through space and time. Were feelings of the sublime and awe can be inspired by the large-scale paintings of Rothko and of the hills and mountains of the lake district as described by the Wordsworths - the feelings of the sublime come from the diminutive - minimalist - and refined qualities of Feldman’s music.
Interview with Tobias Fischer - Fifteen Questions (2024)
When I listen to music, I see shapes, objects and colours. What happens in your body when you're listening?
I do not experience any form of synesthesia - and so I do not hear colours or taste sounds. However - my work as a composer is profoundly influenced by the visual arts - particularly different styles of geometric or painterly abstraction. This work includes; early twentieth century paintings by Kazimir Malevich (notably his black square paintings) - Olga Rozanova - Piet Mondrian - and Josef Albers; the abstract expressionist paintings of Mark Rothco - Jackson Pollack - and Barnet Newman; and the colour field paintings of Morris Louis. All of my compositions from 2010 to date have been based on a fixed structural grid - with the different sounds and tones of the composition laid out in a formal way across this grid system. (See more about the grid below). This method of composition has been influenced by the grid paintings of Agnes Martin and Bridget Riley - and the minimalist sculptures of Donald Judd and Carl Andre. The above artists and work have informed my own compositional practice at a very deep level - and my work would be nothing without this visual inspiration.
Do you listen with your eyes open or closed? One of my favourite ways of listening to music is to follow the music with a score - and - of course - I need my eyes open for this.
Score Reading Apart from my mother teaching me to read music - and attending evening classes in composition when I was a teenager - I have had no formal or academic training in the composition of music - so I am largely self-taught. Score reading - of reading a score while listening to the music - looking at the ‘dots’ on the music score - and to see how these symbols or ‘code’ related to the sounds of the music being played - was a very important part in my self-study process as a musician and composer.
Reading the score of a composition while listening gives me greater insight into the construction of the music - and of how the composer has used different instruments to highlight different harmonic or melodic elements of the music - or how the instruments have been used to create different textures and timbres. This gives a deeper understanding and appreciation for the music that is long lasting.
Another way that I appreciate music - and if I want to give a piece of music my full attention - is to gaze out of the window while listening. This may seem contradictory - but gazing out of the window helps me to concentrate more on the music - it blocks out any other thoughts - apart from thoughts about the music and the sounds I am hearing.
By basing a large percentage of my work on using tones and harmonic structures - my compositions become an engagement with the past - not its destruction or erasure - but of its perpetual development and movement through time - in which the past becomes an important part of the present future. I regard my own work as a continuation of this process.
I have always listened to the music of Bach - and have found that the formal purity of his music to be very inspiring. I feel that there are mores secrets in Western tone-based music that are yet to be revealed. As a professional musician - I played the flute - I used to love playing Bach’s ‘A minor partita’ for flute solo - and that once one gets beyond the technical difficulties of performance - the music pulls one along and one loses sense of self - as if you are moving through the music - as well as the music is moving through you. It all sounds rather mystical - which is something that I do not like - but there are no other words to describe the experience. As a composer Bach - as well as other of the great composers - was touched by something deeply profound - and he passes that profoundness onto the listeners and performers of his music. There is also something similar - for me - in the music of Anton Webern and Morton Feldman.
One of the ways in which I engage within the tonal continuity of music is to use harmonic or melodic fragments - or tone cells or twelve tone rows - from composers of previous generations.
These include compositions from my albums ‘Today Comes From Yesterday’ and ‘All Together Through Time’ My ‘Today Comes From Yesterday’ album consists of three compositions based on twelve-tone rows from three of the leading composers of the twentieth century;
‘Composition 2018.04 (Untitled)’ is based on the tone-row from Anton Webern’s ‘Variations Opus 27’ (1937):
‘Composition 2021.10 (Untitled)’ is based on the tone-row from Arnold Schoenberg's ‘Suite for Piano’ Op 25 (1921) - and alternates singe tones with dyads. The composition was first performed at Iklectik - London - 20.10.2021 - which was the hundredth anniversary of Schoenberg's composition.
‘Composition 2022.05 (Untitled)’ is based on the tone-row from Igor Stravinsky’s ‘Epitaphium’ (1959).
The Greek philosopher Heraclitus claimed that "everything flows” - highlighting the constant change in the universe. Yet - the idea of "all together through time" suggests that there is permanence amidst change - and that a thread of continuity runs through the ever-shifting landscape of existence.
On a more practical musical level - the phrase of ‘All Together Through Time’ points to the idea that composers and musicians across generations are bound together by shared experiences - compositions - musical ideas and histories. Our actions and decisions ripple through time - affecting future generations and intertwining our destinies.
We had an old upright piano at home - and my mother taught me to read music when I was about four-years-old. She also taught me basic piano skills. I also learnt to play the recorder when I started going to infants school at the age of five. The recorder was an instrument that I was able to quickly master and I could sight-read from the age of six. The piano that we had at home had a piano seat - and there was a pull-out drawer that contained old yellowed copies of vocal and piano sheet music from the 1930’’s and 1940’s. I would play the vocal part on my recorder and my mother would accompany me on the piano. It was an idyllic way to learn about - and experience - music. One of my favourite songs to play was ‘Brother Can You Spare a Dime’ which was a popular song from the 1930’s Depression. It’s a very poignant piece of music - which I still find to be profoundly moving.
When I was seven - my uncle Wallace gave me an old wind-up portable gramophone that played 78 rpm records - and also a selection of classical music - including Brahms’ First Symphony - Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony - Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and Egmont Overture. The first record that that I put onto the gramophone was the Egmont Overture - and I was completely overwhelmed by the opening orchestral chords. It was an earth shattering experience - and one that I shall never forget.
There was a very good and well-stocked leading library where I lived in Greenwich - and so I would regularly borrow records by the great baroque and classical composers - which helped in my musical self-education. On one occasion I stumbled upon an album that included a recording of Anton Webern’s ‘Symphony’ Op.21 - and hearing this music was another important turning point for me. I was ten years old - and I had now discovered avant-garde music. This experience was to change and influence my musical thinking forever. From the same library I borrowed Rene Leibowitz’s book ‘Schoenberg and His School’ (pub. 1949) - which gave me greater insight into the understanding of twelve-tone serial music composition - and I was quick to start composing using Schoenberg’s twelve-tone technique.
The third important turning came at the age of thirteen. I was already playing the tenor saxophone at this time - and was interested in not only the music of Arnold Schoenberg and Anton Webern - but also the music of the contemporary jazz masters - such as John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy. Ornette Coleman was another favourite musician - and I bought his album ‘Free Jazz’ - this music being the jazz equivalent of the twelve-tone compositions of Schoenberg and Webern. But what was important for me was the album artwork. The album was a 12 inch vinyl - and the artwork was the abstract expressionist painting ‘White Light’ (1954) by the artist Jackson Pollack. This was an introduction into a whole new world of contemporary art - and which would eventually became such an important influence on my own musical thinking.
Tell me about one or two of your early pieces that you're still proud of (or satisfied with) – and why you're content with them.
Eric Dolphy was an important musician - and I was greatly influenced by his style of playing. Sadly he died in June 1964 - and so I decided to dedicate my new work in his honour. The instruments of the sextet were flute - alto saxophone - bass clarinet (which were the three instruments that Dolphy played) - plus trombone - violin - and double bass. The instrumentation was inspired by Edgard Varèse’s composition ‘Octandre’. My work was first performed at an end-of-year concert at Goldsmiths - and the performance included three of the leading British jazz musicians of the time; Trevor Watts (alto saxophone) - Paul Rutherford (trombone) - and Barry Guy (double bass). The music was a combination of Varèse-like instrumental textures - and also used a twelve-tone row - plus the jazz elements. The composition was perfectly played by all of the musicians - everything worked very well - and so I was happy with the result.
Even though my current work is very different from that of 1964 - there are still ideas from ‘Sextet: In Memoriam Eric Dolphy’. that still persist within my musical time continuum.
What is your current your studio or workspace like? What instruments, tools, equipment, and space do you need to make music?
All of my compositions since 2010 have been produced digitally - and I use Ableton Live has my prime production tool. Ableton is very intuitive and flexible - and I am able to get my musical ideas realised very quickly. I have a small collection of digital synthesisers from Native Instruments - but most of my production is done with the instruments within Ableton Live environment.
I use physical modelling and FM synthesis to produce the tones and other sonic elements of my compositions. Between 2010 to 2020 I used distortion on some of the sounds to create a level of timbral complexity - and ring modulation for harmonic complexity - but stoped using these effects after 2020.
In the words of William Wordsworth - who described the life with his sister Dorothy in the Lake District as ‘simple living and high thinking’. This is an ideal to which I try to aspire.
From the earliest sketches to the finished piece, tell me about the creative process for your current release.
Like the titles of my other albums and releases - there is no direct relationship between the title and the content of the compositions. The compositions themselves are titled/catalogued with the year in which they were composed - and the order within that year. For example ‘Composition 2023.02 (Untitled)’ was the second composition composed in 2023 - and ‘Composition 2023.03 (Untitled)’ was the third - etc.
All of my compositions since 2010 have been produced using a formal grid system - and I find that working within a rules-based order - and one with clearly defined barriers and boundaries - gives me more creative freedom than working with an anarchistic ‘anything goes’ approach. (See below for more about grid and rules)
From Here to There The ‘From Here to There’ album consists of three experimental tone-based compositions that explore the use of different harmonic structures in non-traditional musical forms. The basic ideas for these compositions were sketched out in a notebook - then later developed and expanded upon within the Ableton environment. The first stage of the production process is to create the MIDI files - either for single tones or chords. When this process is complete I then export the MIDI into audio - and re-import the audio to use as the audio assets and components of the compositions. The final stage is to place the audio files on the timeline in accordance with the ideas that I had developed in the notes. This is the ‘composition’ part of the work. I sometimes use the artificial intelligence chatbot GPT to create random number ables that help to determine the order of the tones and chords (see more below). I do the mixing while I am arranging the sounds. As I am not making dance or pop music - I do not feel the need ‘master’ the master audio output.
‘Composition 2023.02 (Untitled)’ consists of a tone-line moving in semi-tones and minor thirds - within a pitch range between A1 to C3. It suggests never ending permutation and endless movement through time.
Composition 2023.03 (Untitled) is based on a seven-note tone-cell of C - C# - D - D# - E - F# - A# - and which appear as two-note dyads and three-note trichords. All the elements are of the same length - and the sounds move at a glacial pace through the time-line.
Composition 2023.09 (Untitled) is based on the chord sequence (changes) from John Coltrane’s 1960’s jazz composition ‘Giant Steps’.
The GPT artificial intelligence programme was utilised in the production of these compositions - and created randoms number tables which were used to determine the order of the tones in Composition 2023.02 and Composition 2023.02 - and the order and length of the tones in Composition 2023.09.. AI did not compose the works - but was used merely as a digital tool to accomplish the painstaking and time-consuming work which would have been difficult to accomplish manually. From the start - I had a clear general overview of what the compositions would be and sound like. There was clear purpose and intent on my part.
Titles are used simply to identify each album project - they are also used to give an indication of my philosophical interests and concerns.
The title "From here to there" is a philosophical concept that encapsulates several themes and interpretations. Philosophically - this phrase signifies the process of change and transformation. It highlights the movement from one state of being or understanding to another. This can be related to the development and evolution of ideas - or broader social changes. It also refers to the passage of time - where "here" represents the present moment and "there" represents the future. Philosophers like Heraclitus have explored the nature of time and change - emphasising that life is in constant flux. Or - in a more literal sense - ‘from here to there’ addresses physical movement through space.
What role and importance do rituals have for you, both as an artist and a listener?
Late producer SOPHIE said: “You have the possibility [...] to generate any texture, and any sound. So why would any musician want to limit themselves?” What's your take on that? I think it is important to live and work within clearly defined limits and rules. I actually feel more free when I working with restraints and within a rules-based order. This may sound contradictory - but having too much freedom is limiting and constricting. I find that working within rules - even if the rules are of my own making - to be very inspiring. I do not need to have access to everything - but by using rules I can bring about a state of order from the chaos. Consequently - an anarchistic ‘anything goes’ approach is detrimental to my creativity - it is not inspiring - nor is it culturally fulfilling.
The artist Piet Mondrian - who was a contemporary of Schoenberg’s - painted with only the three primary colours: red - yellow and blue - plus black grid-line and white ground. Working within this very restricted palette he was able to create works of lasting genius. Working within a rules-based order - within boundaries and restrictions - helps to focus the mind - and creates simplicity and clearness of thought. It also seem seems to offer almost infinite possibilities - whereas having no rules seems to limit creative possibilities. This may seem contradictory - but from my own experience - having limes creates a situation of being limitlessness - and that own is able to get a glimpse - even if for only a brief moment - of the infinite.
One of the compositional limits that I impose upon myself is to use a grid structure for my work. All of my compositions are based on a fixed unchanging grid system - and - as such - each composition is partially pre-made and exists before the process of composition takes place. This signature structure already exists - and is waiting for the content to be produced and inserted into the form of the grid. There is also a limited number of uniform durations of the sound elements - which are determined by the structure of the grid.
The grid is a formal compositional and primary structural space. It is a fixed system with it own internal rules - but also one that allows for a certain degree of freedom. The use of the grid creates balance between freedom and order.
My compositions consist of uniform repeated serial units that are contained within a non-hierarchical structure. They are related to each other through the determination of the systemic grid - with the grid taking the form of a compositional DNA. The grid is an underlying order.
Each composition consists of 768 bars - which is then sub-divided into three sections of 256 bars - which in turn are sub-divided into two sets of 128 bars - or four sets of sixty-four bars - or eight sets of 32 bars - etc. The content of the composition consists of elements that are 1 - 2 - 4 - 8 - 16 - 32 - 64 - 128 - 256 or 768 bars long. The compositions are also of the same tempo - which is one-hundred-and twenty beats-per-minute - and so consequently all of the compositions are of the same duration - which is twenty-five and thirty-six seconds.
There is equivalence of all the parts of the composition and consist of repetitions or discrete incidents. Consequently - there is no compositional hierarchy - cadences - musically driven emotion - nor are there any dramatic moments or climaxes. The compositions do not move forward to an end goal or resolution - there is no end point or conclusion. There is no analogy - metaphor - symbolism - and - as such - I do not regard my music to be an expression of emotions or feelings - but as an expression of musical ideas - and of the unfolding of time.
Do you feel that your music or your work as an artist needs to have a societal purpose or a responsibility to anyone but yourself?
My compositions do not have a specific function - or an end gaol - other than to exists as a piece of music. However - one important aspect of my compositions is that it should hopefully create a state of ‘ataraxia (ἀταραξία)’ within the listener. The idea of ataraxia was put forward by the Greek philosopher Epicurus (341 - 270 BC) - and has a number of translations - including “equanimity” and “lucid calm”. It is not the calm of a soporific - it is not a drug or a tranquilliser - but a calm of meditative insight - clarity of mind - and thoughtful creativity. It is the calm of lucid heightened awareness.
I regard many of my compositions as forms of technological mediation. They are not - of course - a replacement for meditation or prayer in the formal sense - but - hopefully - create a musical context that inspires - and is conducive to - higher-level thinking.
Once a piece is done and released, do you find it important that listeners understand it in a specific way? How do you deal with “misunderstandings?”
When my compositions are published and released into the public domain - then I lose all control of what people think about the music. They either get it - or they don’t. And there is not very much that I can do to change their perceptions or feelings about the wrk.
Sound, song, and rhythm are all around us, from animal noises to the waves of the ocean. What, if any, are some of the most moving experiences you've had with these non-human-made sounds? In how far would you describe them as “musical”?
I think that ‘music’ - and the composing of it - is a purely human activity - and that sounds from animals are mainly functional and practical in intent. There are alarm calls - territory calls - songs (which are also used to mark territory) - and songs and sounds to create a bond between the members of a herd or a flock (notice how finches keep ‘twittering’ to each other.
I am lucky to live near the New Forest national park - which is a large area of forests - woods - bogs - and open moorland in the South East of England'
I spend a least two full days a week hiking in the woods and open moorland - and I get to see - and hear - lots of different animals - and have have learnt about their many different patterns of behaviour. The list is extensive - but I like how blackbirds sing when it is raining - especially in the spring and summer. And robins sing in the winter when it is cold. There are the territory calls of cuckoos - and the territory ‘drumming’ of woodpeckers - both in the spring. And in the autumn - during the rutting season - there are the mating calls (bellowing) of the stags.
We can surround us with sound every second of the day. The great pianist Glenn Gould even considered this the ultimate delight. How do you see that yourself and what importance does silence hold?
I try to read for about three hours a day - this is in the evening - and I do not have music playing when I read. If it is late a night - then there might be a call of an owl - or the bark of a fox - and I would miss this if music was playing.
In my own work - the silences within a composition are an important structural component - an empty space between the sounds - and that the sounds of the compositions are heard in relationships to the silences. Silence is used in a structural way - and is both form and content of the composition.
Silence within a digitally determined composition is a form of ‘technological nothingness’ - and I am interested in how the individual sounds/tones are suspended in the technological void. Also connected to the idea of silence is ‘negative space’ - which is a term often used by architects - with negative space referring to the areas in a building or structure that are left intentionally empty or unoccupied. This concept is integral to the design process and plays a critical role in the overall aesthetics - functionality - and experience of the space.
I am very interested in Greek and Roman temples of the Classical period - and in the formal way in which they were designed and constructed - in particular the Parthenon in Athens. The architects Ictinus and Callicrates used the algebraic equation x=2y + 1 to build the temple - so its proportions would be perfect - and that it would form a fully integrated mathematical whole. The equation was used to determine the number of columns - the distance between columns - and the size of the cella - which is the interior space of the temple.
The existence of empty space within the Parthenon is similar to the ‘negative space’ used by sculptors such as Barbara Hepworth and Donald Judd. Within my own work - the negative space and the empty voids of sculpture and architecture become the silent empty spaces within the music.
With all of these different influences which have come from different periods in history - my music becomes a combination of both classical and modernist ideals.
Do you feel as though writing or performing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more 'mundane' tasks?
What is a music related question that you would like to ask yourself – and what's your answer to it?
It was also important for the music to be original and unique - to be the output of an individual voice that was independent of current trends or fashions in the musical world. With regards to originality - the composer John Cage said ‘if there are two people making the same kind of music, then that’s one person too many’. I have endeavoured to not be the ‘one person too many’ - and to create experimental tone-based music that is different from music of the past - but at the same time to creates links to the past and acknowledge the importance of my musical predecessors.
In many ways I feel that I have achieved the gaols that were set out and outlined in my original question - and the answers can be heard in all the music that I have produced since 2010. See my Bandcamp page for my complete work.
Please recommend two pieces of art (book, painting, piece of music) to our readers that they should know about.
Dorothy Wordsworth ‘The Grasmere Journals’ (1800 - 1803)
Mark Rothko ‘Seagram Murals’ (1958-59)
Morton Feldman ‘Piano (Three Hands)’ (1957)
