The London Contemporary Orchestra's Imagined Occasions: Not as scary as you might think

In a world of built-in obsolescence, everchanging fashions and even faster-changing technology, the arts might just be the last field in which age and experience have increased their value. Audiences will pay more now to see greats on their way out – Plác

The London Contemporary Orchestra
Imagined Occasions

In a world of built-in obsolescence, everchanging fashions and even faster-changing technology, the arts might just be the last field in which age and experience have increased their value. Audiences will pay more now to see greats on their way out – Plácido Domingo, Ian McKellen, the Rolling Stones – than those on their way up. So it’s something of a surprise to meet a classical group with no grand plans for the future.

“We have given real thought to what happens if we’re still going in ten or 15 years’ time,” says Hugh Brunt, the twenty something artistic co-director of the London Contemporary Orchestra (LCO). “When we get to 35 or 40, we may have to sack ourselves and find other artists and directors to take things forward.” He isn’t joking – it’s a mark of his seriousness, his faith in an ensemble whose raison d’être is staying relevant, that he would walk away from the group that he and the violist Robert Ames have built up from scratch.

In the five years since its beginnings as a one-off project, the LCO has created a cool but credible niche for itself. Combining pop collaborations and film soundtracks with avant-garde art music performances, in an increasingly polarised field the ensemble is forcing the Janus faces of the contemporary music scene to look one another in the eye.   

Brunt’s and Ames’s orchestra is an evershifting group that can equally comprise a quartet of soloists as it can 80 musicians. It has worked with artists such as Foals, Belle & Sebastian and Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood but also has ambitions to stage Karlheinz Stockhausen’s experimental chamber music behemoth Klang – a project beyond the fantasies even of the directors of the Stockhausen Foundation.

For the orchestra’s fifth anniversary, it is pushing the boundaries still further, staging a triptych of bold, new, site-specific concerts entitled Imagined Occasions that may startle even its staunchest regulars. Locations range from the top of Primrose Hill at sunset to an abandoned Tube station.

“The producer Helen Scarlett O’Neill introduced us to Søren Kierkegaard’s Three Discourses on Imagined Occasions, which gave us a sense of trajectory and broad thematic development for the series,” Brunt explains. “Kierkegaard meditates on three episodes: a confession, a wedding and a scene at a graveside. In a simplified form, our three concerts follow this journey, moving from death to life in the first, pausing at the graveside in the second and then pondering the afterlife in the third.”

The music of the Canadian 20th-century composer Claude Vivier – which Brunt describes as “very direct and heart-on-sleeve” – is the continuous thread through the concerts. His “Glaubst du an die Unsterblichkeit der Seele?” (“Do you believe in the immortality of the soul?”), left unfinished after Vivier’s murder by a teenage male prostitute, forms the centrepiece for the opener. A musico- dramatic monologue, it describes with terrifying prescience a journey on the Paris Métro in which the narrator becomes suddenly obsessed with a young man. The disused Aldwych Station will be the perfect setting for the LCO’s performance.

“By creating a physical narrative and context, we hope that we’ll allow the audience to engage more closely with the music than they might be able to in a concert hall,” Brunt tells me. “Here, the performance will start off outside the station at a newsstand where people will collect a newspaper that is their programme. They will then have their train tickets checked and continue into the ticket hall, where they’ll find themselves among the hustle and bustle of commuters – as though we have reopened the station. This is where sounds first attract the audience and they’ll be drawn down the 100-odd steps to the platform by the sounds of Philippe Manoury’s “Inharmonies” from below. It’s almost as if they become the spirits of past commuters.”           

The actual performances of the Vivier and the rest of the concert (which includes a new commission by Gregor Riddell written for the space) will take place on the train tracks, with audience members then retracing their steps to a now deserted ticket hall. It’s an ambiguous journey that will begin again in August at the top of Primrose Hill, where the LCO will perform Vivier’s Zipangu at sunset, before walking their audience down to the Roundhouse (to a specially commissioned musical soundtrack) for four hours of immersive, multimedia Stockhausen. Then, in October, the action relocates to Bethnal Green’s Oval Space, where the audience will move between derelict buildings around the site, to round off the process with a vivid experience of musical fragmentation and decay.

“It’s not as scary as you think” might as well be the subtitle to all performances of contemporary art music, so desperate are performers to reassure their audiences with promises of accessibility and reinvention. The London Contemporary Orchestra is young and hip and its performances are definitely not as scary as you might think – they are scarier and all the more exhilarating for it. Catch one while you still can: they may not be around for much longer.

The London Contemporary Orchestra’s “Imagined Occasions” performances are on 24 May, 22 August and 3 October at various locations in London

The London Contemporary Orchestra. Photograph: Jane Stockdale.

This article first appeared in the 27 May 2013 issue of the New Statesman, You were the future once

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Here’s everything wrong with Daniel Hannan’s tweet about Saturday’s Unite for Europe march

I am Captain Ahab, and Dan is my great white whale, enraging and mocking me in equal measure through his continued political survival.

I was going to give up the Daniel Hannan thing, I really was. He’s never responded to this column, despite definitely being aware of it. The chances of him changing his views in response to verifiable facts seem to be nil, so the odds of him doing it because some smug lefty keeps mocking him on the internet must be into negative numbers.

And three different people now have told me that they were blissfully unaware of Hannan's existence until I kept going on about him. Doing Dan’s PR for him was never really the point of the exercise – so I was going to quietly abandon the field, leave Hannan to his delusion that the disasters ahead are entirely the fault of the people who always said Brexit would be a disaster, and get back to my busy schedule of crippling existential terror.

Told you he was aware of it.

Except then he does something so infuriating that I lose an entire weekend to cataloguing the many ways how. I just can’t bring myself to let it go: I am Captain Ahab, and Dan is my great white whale, enraging and mocking me in equal measure through his continued political survival.

I never quite finished that book, but I’m sure it all worked out fine for Ahab, so we might as well get on with it*. Here’s what’s annoying me this week:

And here are some of the many ways in which I’m finding it obnoxious.

1. It only counts as libel if it’s untrue.

2. This sign is not untrue.

3. The idea that “liars, buffoons and swivel-eyed loons” are now in control of the country is not only not untrue, it’s not even controversial.

4. The leaders of the Leave campaign, who now dominate our politics, are 70 per cent water and 30 per cent lies.

5. For starters, they told everyone that, by leaving the EU, Britain could save £350m a week which we could then spend on the NHS. This, it turned out, was a lie.

6. They said Turkey was about to join the EU. This was a lie too.

7. A variety of Leave campaigners spent recent years saying that our place in the single market was safe. Which it turned out was... oh, you guessed.

8. As to buffoons, well, there’s Brexit secretary David Davis, for one, who goes around cheerfully admitting to Select Committees that the government has no idea what Brexit would actually do to the economy.

9. There was also his 2005 leadership campaign, in which he got a variety of Tory women to wear tight t-shirts with (I’m sorry) “It’s DD for me” written across the chest.

10. Foreign secretary Boris Johnson, meanwhile, is definitely a liar AND a buffoon.

11. I mean, you don’t even need me to present any evidence of that one, do you? You just nodded automatically.

12. You probably got there before me, even. For what it's worth, he was sacked from The Times for making up a quote, and sacked from the shadow frontbench for hiding an affair.

13. Then there’s Liam Fox, who is Liam Fox.

14. I’m not going to identify any “swivel-eyed loons”, because mocking someone’s physical attributes is mean and also because I don’t want to get sued, but let’s not pretend Leave campaigners who fit the bill would be hard to find.

15. Has anyone ever managed to read a tweet by Hannan beginning with the words “a reminder” without getting an overwhelming urge to do unspeakable things to an inanimate object, just to get rid of their rage?

16. Even if the accusation made in that picture was untrue, which it isn’t, it wouldn’t count as libel. It’s not possible to libel 52 per cent of the electorate unless they form a distinct legal entity. Which they don’t.

17. Also, at risk of coming over a bit AC Grayling, “52 per cent of those who voted” is not the same as “most Britons”. I don’t think that means we can dismiss the referendum result, but those phrases mean two different things.

18. As ever, though, the most infuriating thing Hannan’s done here is a cheap rhetorical sleight of hand. The sign isn’t talking about the entire chunk of the electorate who voted for Brexit: it’s clearly talking specifically about the nation’s leaders. He’s conflated the two and assumed we won’t notice.

19. It’s as if you told someone they were shit at their job, and they responded, “How dare you attack my mother!”

20. Love the way Hannan is so outraged that anyone might conflate an entire half of the population with an “out of touch elite”, something that literally no Leave campaigners have ever, ever done.

21. Does he really not know that he’s done this? Or is he just pretending, so as to give him another excuse to imply that all opposition to his ideas is illegitimate?

22. Once again, I come back to my eternal question about Hannan: does he know he’s getting this stuff wrong, or is he genuinely this dim?

23. Will I ever be able to stop wasting my life analysing the intellectual sewage this infuriating man keeps pouring down the internet?

*Related: the collected Hannan Fodder is now about the same wordcount as Moby Dick.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.