Widows & Lovers

An experimental work, examining the place of the string quartet in our own time. From the outset I knew I was writing for an amplified quartet with both the inclination and the technical means to use live and fixed electronics. Its three movements each focus on a different aspect of the string quartet.

The first movement — White Widow, named after a cannabis strain — uses aleatoric writing, improvisation and effects to probe the relationship between a string quartet and a rock band as we habitually perceive them. The chamber dimension is, in a sense, dismantled at the start: the quartet becomes four separate players, each with a fixed role, a little like a rhythm section where the bass is forever the bass and there is no true chamber dialogue of shifting roles. In sound, too, the movement tests the boundary between concertante playing and the building of a dense wall of sound, in which the whole rises above — and even differs from — the sum of its parts. Even so, it has a precise structure, and its improvisatory passages are bounded by exact timings and instructions, even where the notation is graphic. It takes as its motto a line from the song “Poison” by the British band The Prodigy, recorded by me and played back at a specific point.

The second movement, Lovers, reflects something of the San Francisco atmosphere of the 1960s as it lives in my mind. Atmospheric in character, it uses breath sounds, drumming that imitates a heartbeat, spoken text and a range of playing techniques that create effects, while working with complex polyrhythm — layering patterns of different lengths and metres so that the harmonies between them shift constantly. It combines live playing with live looping: the quartet's playing at the start is sampled and looped throughout, with other patterns played over it.

The final movement, Black Widow, is the most “classical” of the three, named after the spider in which the female devours the male. Its theme is an expressive twelve-tone row that returns in various guises, accompanied by a long, complex rhythmic pattern in canon at the quarter-note that creates instability and unrest throughout. The second theme is its opposite: quiet, gentle, polytonal and very lyrical.

Movements

1. White Widow — Uses aleatory, improvisation and effects to examine the relationship between a string quartet and a rock band as we are used to perceiving them. The chamber dimension is dismantled at the start: the quartet becomes four solitary players, each with a fixed role — in a sense like a rhythm section, where the bass will forever be the bass and there is no true chamber dialogue of exchanged roles. It also tests the boundary between concert playing and the creation of a dense wall of sound, in which the whole transcends and even separates from the sum of its parts. The movement is important to hear as precisely structured: the improvised part is bounded by exact timings and instructions, even where the notation is graphic. It uses as a motto a line from the song 'Poison' by the British band The Prodigy, recorded by me and played at a specific point.
2. Lovers — Tries to reflect something of the San Francisco atmosphere of the 1960s as it appears in my own consciousness. Atmospheric in character, using breath sounds, drumming that imitates heartbeats, spoken text and a range of playing techniques that create effects. At the same time it makes complex use of polyrhythm, layering patterns of different lengths and metres one above another so that the harmonies and relationships between them change each time. It combines live playing with live looping: the quartet's playing at the start of the movement is sampled and looped throughout, with other patterns of different lengths played over it.
3. Black Widow — The most 'classical' of the three. Its theme is an expressive twelve-tone row, returning in various forms across the movement, accompanied by a long, complex rhythmic pattern that appears in canon at the distance of a quarter, creating instability and restlessness throughout. The second theme is contrasting — quiet and delicate, polytonal and very lyrical.

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