Perusal scores available on request

 

INSTRUMENTAL

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Four Pieces for Two Pianos

1988 (rev.1990) (appx.15’)

Commissioned by Alexandra and Nicola Bibby 

 

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Sketches of the Bayon

1992 (appx. 9’)

Oboe, piano

Commissioned by Melanie Ragge

 

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And from the Tempest a Myriad of Stars

1992 (appx.10’)

Clarinet, piano

Commissioned by the Clarinet and Saxophone Society for the Robert Hicks Memorial Trust

 

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FireBird

2007 (approx 7’)

Soprano Saxophone and 5-octave bass marimba

Commissioned by Snapdragon 

Programme Note:

This work was composed with the lyrical and mellifluous sounds Sarah Field produces on her soprano saxophone. That said, all sorts of other influences began to emerge: the idea of the Phoenix, and its playfulness and the mystery associated with such a beautiful mythical creature. Then the idea of flames, regeneration and transformation seeped in. Finally, Angkor (a place which has haunted me and pervaded my music for many years) impacted. The Garuda (the Khmers’ own mythical bird) and the images of Apsaras (heavenly dancers) that richly grace the walls of the great exotic Khmer temples all played their part. The main notes of the work are derived from the musical equivalents to the word ‘PHOENIX’. Those notes are transformed in multifarious ways (turned inside-out and upside-down, etc) and the harmonies, and the ways in which material is developed, all stems from this original pattern of notes. The work is dedicated to the two musicians who I so admire, and who very kindly asked me to write it.  © Paul Max Edlin 2007

 

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Glimpses of the Rubaiyat

1994 (appx.10’)

Version for flute, piano

 

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The Pathos of Lost Meaning

2010 (appx. 10’)

for trumpet and piano

Programme note:

This personal work was initially born from a lecture given by writer Sarah Wood on the interrelationship of music with other art forms. She used three words ‘pathos’ and ‘lost meaning’ that struck me particularly – I knew I had a title for my new piece. 

Ultimately, in this imaginary journey we search for truth amid the chaos of life. The music also refers and responds directly to history. Beethoven’s deeply nostalgic Piano Sonata no. 30, Op 109 seeps into the composition, helping to similarly guide us. Beethoven’s music seems to me so inextricably linked with compassion and humanity, something that lacks in far too many people.

Thus there are twists and turns toward a seeming apotheosis. Yet, despite all the lyricism, the plaintive calls, the fierce passages and the music’s own path toward a climactic end, that same level of doubt remains throughout. Beethoven’s muse, and the cries of its other source of inspiration, all lead to a work that cannot truly cope with what confronts it.

This work was sponsored by Lady Fraser and was first performed by Huw Morgan and Timothy End in the PLG New Year Series on 13th January 2011 in the Purcell Room, Southbank Centre.  © Paul Max Edlin 2010 (rev 2013)

 

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Portraits

for 'cello and piano

Set 1: Ángeles – la búsqueda de los sueños

2012 (appx. 12’)

 

Set 2: Variations on the names of OJ and AK

2012 (appx. 10’)

Programme note:

Art allows us to say things that are important to us, and, as we are all so different, from various backgrounds and born into diverse cultures and cultural identities, we adopt different means to express ourselves. Music, the most abstract of art forms, allows us to be unusually honest, yet extremely obscure. 

Composers can create ways to symbolise events and thoughts, they can tell us truths disguised in groups of notes, they can be open and honest in unparalleled ways. Forms can represent journeys, events, structures of buildings, etc. Numbers and durations can be used to represent actual time, place, proportion of endurance, etc. Notes can be aligned to names and places and events by means of encryption. Other existing works can be alluded to in order to allow the listener (if they are aware of those other existing works) to sense subliminal or literal allusions and thus achieve a sense of nostalgia within oneself or within the subject matter presented, or both.

These ‘Portraits’ tell us of people, of places, times and of events, and they respond to the actual creativity of those people. These portraits tell us of the dynamic of relationships, from within and from without. They simultaneously delve deep and they observe from a distance.

These portraits tell of people whose friendship has meant a great deal. The music was composed over the summer of 2012. Two sets of portraits describe four artists. © Paul Max Edlin 2012 

 

 

Broken Song

2007 (appx. 4’) Unaccompanied trumpet

Programme note:

This short work for unaccompanied trumpet explores the more lyrical side of the instrument as well as some of the techniques it can achieve that take it away from the conventional range of timbres we associate with it while retaining a keen sense of beauty and the exotic. A melodic line exists throughout, though this is broken by passages of a more virtuosic nature, which, while interjecting, never disturb the intended flow of the music.  © Paul Max Edlin 2008

 

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C

2006 (appx. 6’) 

Solo flute 

Commissioned by Lisa Nelsen

Note:

The note C is the note from which the entire composition is derived, yet it is the one note we never hear at all. Thus the work finishes with a sense of lack of resolution, of wanting something that never existed, yet one wanted, subconsciously, to enjoy. It was written for the outstanding Canadian flautist Lisa Nelsen.

 

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Gone in 60 Seconds

2020 (appx. 1’ to 2’) 

Solo trumpet

Commissioned by Oxford Festival of the Arts for Brendan Ball 

 

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In Memoriam George Crumb

2022 (appx. 6’) 

Piano and Percussion

Commissioned by Oxford Festival of the Arts for Tricia Dawn Williams and Beibei Wang 

Programme Note

I will never forget having a long telephone conversation with George Crumb.  I was planning a festival in Kent in which he would have been the featured composer.  What a lovely chat we had.  While the festival (sadly) never happened, this call gave me the chance to tell George Crumb how much I admired his music and how I had been profoundly influenced by it.  And I was.  Nor shall I ever forget hearing his monumental Star Child at the BBC Proms in the late 1970s.  Or bringing to life his Ancient Voices of Children and Eleven Echoes of Autumn with talented young students.  

When George Crumb died earlier this year, the world lost one of the few last ‘great’ composers, a master who defined a new musical language that has had such a powerful impact on music since.  This work intentionally inhabits the sound world Crumb evoked – one of mystery and beauty.  It also uses a cipher of his name as the principal material.  And it takes those haunting ‘open fifth’ chords heard in the strings at the start of Star Child as another foundation.  In Memoriam George Crumb is a personal gesture of homage to a composer who I admire so much and whose work lives on in me constantly.

The work is dedicated to percussionist Beibei Wang and pianist Tricia Dawn Williams.

 

 

PIANO SOLO

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Prelude and Dance of the Fantastic Dragon

1983 (appx.5’) 

Commissioned by Richard le May 

An early work, composed at the start of studies at the RCM.

 

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From an Artist in Egypt

1993 (appx. 11’)

Programme note: 

This set of six short pieces captures the vivid imagery of ancient Egypt as depicted in the often charming watercolours of Edwardian artist Walter Tyndale whose book ‘From and Artist in Egypt’ became an inspiration. We move from the awe inspiring image of the great Sphinx at night, to the hussle and bustle of street markets, the natural flora and fauna of the region and more of the antiquities such as the tombs of the khalifs. These short pieces can be played as a set, or movements can be played on their own, especially ‘The Sphinx by Night’, which is a dramatic work, yet is not technically as demanding as the others.  © Paul Max Edlin 1995

 

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The Secret Gaze

1993 (appx 10’)

 

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Towers of the God-King

1997 (appx. 14’)

Programme note:

The ‘towers’ of the title are those of Cambodian King Suryarvarman II who built the vast funerary complex of Angkor Wat, now considered one of the seven wonders of the world. The music responds to the ground plan of the building and takes us on a literal journey through parts of the space, frequently responding directly to narrative bas-reliefs such as ‘The Churning of the Sea of Milk’. While this work stands up in its own right, it became the basis for a much larger work, ‘A Pilgrim of Angkor’, which is for full symphony orchestra, that work completing what was for me a compositional odyssey in which many monuments of Southeast Asia, informed and inspired my music.

 

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On Beauty – Book 1

2001 (appx. 17’)

On Beauty – Book 2

2001 (appx.10’)

Programme note:

These two ‘books’ respond directly to Immanuel Kant’s ‘Analytic of the Beautiful’ and his ‘Analytic of the Sublime’. In order to clearly allude to these important works of philosophical debate, the third exquisite and highly poignant movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in Major, Op 109, becomes more than a skeletal framework for the compositions. In Book 1, and within the spirit of the ‘theme and variations’ design as used by Beethoven, the music evolves from a stark presentation of ideas, gradually exploring these in a series of diverse and occasionally terse ways, yet always with a keen eye to aspects of symmetry and grace of pattern that ultimately reveal their beauty as opposed to their sublimity. Book 2 goes further and uses Beethoven’s melody as a starting point to an exploration of its line via use of harmonic and sub-harmonic series. Beethoven’s music makes this music, though it would be impossible to perceive without prior knowledge. The complex series of lines that make up the first of two movements in Book 2 are delineated by the use of colour. The second movement is utterly serene and hopes to finally respond to the sublime due to its understanding of what makes things ‘beautiful’ and that nature and natural process is what takes things to the ultimate point at which we may feel a sense of ‘sublimity’.  © Paul Max Edlin 2002

 

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Songs Without Words

2013 (appx. 10’)

Programme note:

When I heard Poulenc’s exquisite ‘Cavatine’ for cello and piano, the opening chords made a deep mark on me. The realm of musical composition can be a place of solace, in which we can hear inevitable beauty and allow it to take over our very being. I needed to compose a present for a fine pianist, and something to stop them thinking about new music as ‘professional noise’, so I embarked on writing a series of pieces that contained all the elements of traditional songs that we associate with the likes of Schubert and Wolf. Melodies with harmonies. Strangely, I found myself composing pieces where the notes became rather hard to organize, tricky to get right. There was to be no ugliness, no harsh dissonance, just a natural progression from note to note or chord to chord where tensions could naturally increase or subside.  © Paul Max Edlin 2013

 

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…and the body of transformations 

2018 (appx. 19’)

For Magnetic Resonator Piano

Programme note:

The temple complex of Preah Khan is part of the vast area more commonly referred to as ‘Angkor’ in Cambodia. It was built by Jayavarman VII. An obsession with Angkor began thirty years ago and I had written a series of large-scale works based on its architectural designs, as well as encrypting the pieces with lots of relative information. However, it was not until 2017 that I actually visited Cambodia and saw the ancient city ‘in person’.

I felt a need to return ‘musically’ to Angkor and to respond to what I had seen. Of all the extraordinary sights, Preah Khan left a new and immensely strong impression. Books generally refer to the unique two-storey pavilion with its almost Romanesque columns, no doubt because they initially appear more ‘European’. However, there is nothing remotely of the ‘West’, and its neighbouring ‘Hall of Dancers’ reveals some of the most exquisite bas reliefs in all of Angkor. Similarly, the mix of man made and natural architecture is exemplified by the way in which trees and buildings now entwine, as if purposefully juxtaposed by a surrealist artist. I know that I will never forget standing in what still seems like a surreal and other worldly part of the complex, surrounded by mysterious buildings encrusted in fine and ornate bas reliefs. That was a literal ‘dream’ in a day’s reality.

The piano is an instrument we believe we know fully. Yet there are aspects and sonorities of the piano yet to be discovered. There is another hidden instrument. Andrew McPherson’s Magnetic Resonator Piano adds a complex set of magnets to the strings of the conventional grand piano, which, through clever manipulation, creates totally natural new sonorities. Instead of having the strings ‘struck’ by hammers, these strings aurally ‘glow’ in response to magnets that pull at them and cause them to vibrate. And through further clever manipulation, they can be made to vibrate in certain ways to achieve a series of new and unexpected sonorities. Some of these sonorities sound ‘electronic’, but they are absolutely not. All are entirely natural – and therefore they achieve an ever-changing quality of tone and colour. Exact repetition is impossible.

The Magnetic Resonator Piano (MRP) exemplifies a mix of familiar and unknown, it captures a seeming ‘other’ world, a surreal quality that I adore, and it beguiles through its completely natural beauty of tone. It seemed right to try to evoke a new response to Angkor through this deeply special instrument.

The curious thing I found was that while my music had moved on, I returned to the same schemes of creating ciphers and designing musical structures I had adopted many years ago. I realised that these compositional tools were ‘within’ my natural way of thinking. The fact that I had now seen Angkor in reality, as opposed to through illustrated books, ultimately made little actual difference to the creative spur the inspiration ignited. Yet there is a difference, which I can acknowledge. To attempt to recreate a ground plan, a physical structure that can be viewed from an infinite number of angles, plus the heady atmosphere of a moment in time is impossible. All we can ever do is evoke a perceived mystery and report aspects of an inspiration.

The opening lines on Preah Khan's stele translate as "The Lord (bhagaván) is divided, for his body is the Body of the Law, the Body of Enjoyment, and the Body of Transformations". From here comes the title of this work, which is ultimately all about transformations.

Grateful thanks to Andrew McPherson and James Doherty for their help in the preparation of this work for MRP, and to Rolf Hind whose exemplary pianism brought it to life. © Paul Max Edlin 2018

 

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Different Perspectives

2019 (appx. 46’)

For solo piano

I - languorous, maybe even with a touch of melancholy
II - brilliant, but also lyrical, with much rubato
III - mechanical and brittle
IV - song like
V - fleeting
VI - mechanical
VII - strident
VIII - song like
IX - phantasmagorical
X - like three disconnected song lines
XI - languorous, but with optimism
XII - almost a mirror image
XIII - with assertive questioning
XIV - fanfares
XV - a tender song
XVI - mysterious and fleeting
XVII - weaving
XVIII - with a sense of formality
XIX - with austere lyricism
XX - sombre, yet beautiful
XXI - quasi mechanical, but also with a curious sense of legato/detaché as well as innate energy
XXII - with bravura!
XXIII - strident, and also beautiful
XXIV - with a mix of tempered ferocity and extreme tenderness
XXV - tenderly and with a sense of innocence
XXVI - with a curious mix of romanticism and austerity
XXVII - with grandeur and energy

This set of 27 miniatures was composed in short bursts during a busy summer of 2019. The original idea of creating a set of four or five miniatures quickly grew. After completing ten such short pieces, I pondered the idea of returning to each piece and recreating it anew, from a 'different perspective'. The result was a set of complex variations which create a single large-scale work. What started as a patchwork became a highly integrated piece. © Paul Max Edlin 2019

 

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Five Exotic Photographs

2020 (appx. 6’)

For solo piano

1. Apsara
2. Columns
3. Kite
4. A Stone Smile
5. The Lake of Trees

Programme Note

These short pieces (musical glimpses) tell what photographs cannot. They are musical reminders of things I have seen and emotions I felt at the time of taking photographs of specific places and things. For instance, it is impossible to describe the grace one sees in an image of an apsara on the temples of Angkor. Similarly, it is impossible to fully explain the smiles of the many faces on the Bayon temple in early morning, or the mystery of the few trees that seem to float on the lake surrounding Neak Paen.  © Paul Max Edlin 2019

 

 

A Little Gift

2023 (appx. 3’)

For solo toy piano

Commissioned for a film by Tricia Dawn Williams

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The Illusionist’s Magic Box

2024 (appx 10’)

Piano, toy piano and electronics

Commissioned with funds from Arts Council Malta

Programme Note

The charming toy piano is actually not an easy instrument to write for, with an often-clumsy action which means it cannot play fast passages.  However, its sound is so instantly recognisable, and it immediately evokes childhood, magic, illusion, and sheer fantasy.  It arouses thoughts of an unreal or lost world.  The piano, on the other hand, is arguably the grand wizard of instruments, capable of conjuring up so many sonorities, and being able to mimic an entire orchestra and much more.

The birth of this piece took a slightly unusual path.  Having received the commission from Dawn, together with some specific instructions and time limit, I set about drafting sketches. I immediately started thinking about a larger-than-life character who could manipulate, transfix, tantalise, beguile and command.  And this was combined with the surrealist art I love and grew up with (my mother painted so much surrealist work).  And then there was the daily news, focusing so much on the politics of charlatans who cast their magic spells on their often-gullible people.  I imagined a grandiose character that was both enigmatic and ambiguous: possibly genial, possibly malevolent, but certainly a combination of many characteristics.   

The sketches became the foundation to a huge (second) concerto for piano and large orchestra that I wrote on a whim.  I temporarily abandoned the immediate commission, knowing I had many months to complete that work.  Then I turned to the task in hand, and the sketches (the exact same musical material I had naughtily yet intentionally used in that concerto) took on a new life, independent yet complimentary, and with a totally different structure.  And the sound world was so different too, because I chose to create an other-worldly electronic soundscape that would act as a cohesive and magical force that allowed the two pianos (real and toy) to expand their ideas (their spells and their stories).  Ultimately, both this work and the concerto are companions – the very same illusionist casting the same spells from their ‘box of tricks’, yet yielding more unforeseen results.

The electronics uses sampled sounds of bowed metal percussion instruments as well as more conventional ‘struck’ sonorities in ranges that simply don’t exist, and using quarter-tones (the notes in-between conventional semitones) that these instruments cannot play.  So, through electronic manipulation, the unreal is created out of the real, and the two keyboard instruments act as the seeming masters of all that goes on, with that ‘grand-wizard’ announcing both start and symbolically shutting up that ‘magic box’.

There is no story to this work.  This is music to evoke individual responses, but the piece is born from visual imagery.  It is dedicated to the pianist Tricia Dawn Williams.  © Paul Max Edlin 2024