JALALU, WE WOULD LIKE TO WELCOME YOU AS OUR FIRST COMPOSER-IN-RESIDENCE! COULD YOU FIRST TELL US ABOUT YOUR HISTORY AS A COMPOSER AND PERFORMER? 

Well, I was born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma on August 19th, 1951, in the height of the Korean War. During this time, one would see gross segregation and racial discrimination in America. It would be, in five years, the beginning of the age of Dr. Martin Luther King –  that would transform America.
In the fifties, when I was born, most of the black people in Oklahoma City lived on the East side of town; of course, that was on the other side of the railroad tracks. I attended, during all of my school years, all-black schools. Although in my high school years we had a couple of white teachers.

But in terms of my first exposure to music:  At my grandmother’s house, there was a beautiful upright piano which was the most beautiful piece of furniture in the whole house. So I was surrounded by music at an early age. It all seemed so natural to me that I would soon try my hand at playing the piano.
And many times, I would listen to radio broadcasts from the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra or the New York Philharmonic. I somehow just had a natural love for classical music.

My aunt and grandmother encouraged me. And, of course, I was one of the millions of young people who watched Leonard Bernstein’s Young People’s Concerts on T.V. So many young people became musicians because of these broadcasts, and I was one of them. Little did I know then, that over fifteen years later I would meet him at Tanglewood.
So, I listened to all kinds of classical music, as well as gospel music, that my Aunt Vera loved. She would often take me to concerts of famous black Gospel   music groups that came through Oklahoma City, like The Five Blind Boys of Alabama and many others. 

I believe that I began to put notes down on paper around the age of ten or eleven - things that I made up on the piano. I began taking piano lessons at 10 or 11 years old. When I was thirteen, I began playing the trumpet. My second piano teacher, Mrs. Dorothy Barrett, was very encouraging for me. When she presented her annual spring recital of her students, she encouraged me to play trumpet and even play my compositions for piano. I always looked forward to this event. My aunt and grandmother were in the first row of course. So, this was the beginning of my life as a composer-performer.

And as they say, the rest is history.

THANK YOU, JALALU. ARE TEHRE ANY INFLUENCES OR MUSICAL HEROES THAT HAVE HAD A LASTING IMPACT ON YOU?

Oh yes, I have a few! My first musical hero was probably my Aunt Verna, who sang in the Church Choir. She had such a beautiful voice, and I just loved to hear her sing every Sunday. This sort of music gave me my early vision of having a life in music. 

Along with my aunt Verna, I can say that my earliest musical heroes were not musicians at all. They were my Grandmother Gussie and my Aunt Vera, the sister of Verna. Aunt Vera never married, she lived with my Grandmother until my Grandmother died in 1968. And she died six months later. The piano was at their home, and as I said, this is where I discovered music. They always encouraged me when I was young. They paid for my piano lessons, which cost 75 cents. Can’t believe it!  But I was happy when they gave me a dollar, which was a lot of money in the 50’s. I would have 25 cents left over. And I could buy a treat of cookies, a drink and chips!!!  This was the best part of the Saturday piano lessons. They both taught me life-lessons, until they died, that I still try to follow these many years later. They are always with me. Their spirits still encourage and watch over me.

One early musical hero of mine is the Great Duke Ellington. I first saw him in the summer of 1968, in Boston, when I was attending a summer course at the Berklee School of Music. He was performing an outdoor concert in the Roxbury section of Boston. I met him when he performed in Oklahoma City in the spring of 1969, and I would see him when he would give concerts in the mid-west. In the summer of 1972, there was a Duke Ellington Festival put on by the University of Wisconsin at Madison. My School gave me funds to attend, as a part of my studies. This was a unique experience because this was five days of nothing but Ellington!  I heard his band each night. I became friends with some of the musicians in the band. Especially the great Paul Gonsalves, who played tenor saxophone. He was such a kind person, and an amazing musician. He was a long-time member of the Ellington band. I remember the last time that I saw him was in Indianapolis, in September 1973. One of my other heroes was the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius. I was blown away when I first heard his work “Finlandia”. And I went on to discover other works of his. Also, during my high school years, I discovered the music of Webern, Schoenberg and of course Stravinsky. Especially his “Firebird Suite”.

All this music came naturally to me. My dear Aunt and Grandmother tolerated it when I would listen to this music on the radio. They never held me back in my musical explorations or told me to stop, when I would be banging on the piano.

My other musical hero was the Greek composer Iannis Xenakis, whose 100th birthday is celebrated this year. I remember, in Oklahoma City at a record store, I discovered a record by him. I went up to the counter to buy the record, and the owner of the store was surprised that I wanted to buy this, what for him was nothing but noise. He asked me if I thought that this was music, and I said yes. He said, “I am gonna do you a favor. I will give you this record for free to just get it out of my shop.” So, I did him the favor!And destiny would have it, that two years later, when I entered Indiana University, I discovered that he was a professor there. And I studied with him, along with my other great composition teacher, John Eaton. 

I remember the last time that I saw Xenakis was many years later, when I was in Paris in the spring of 1995. I was staying with a friend near the Pigalle metro station, and I remember that Xenakis told me that he lived in this area. In the evening after playing my friend a CD I had of a work of his, we went out for a walk. As we passed a small food shop, I looked in, and to my great surprise there he was! What a surprise, just speaking of him and went outside, and there he was! He happily greeted me. He was with his wife and friend. We exchanged some words. Then his wife motioned to him that they had to leave. This was the last time that I would see him. So, he was a very special musical hero of mine.

Of course, I have others, whom I also met: Eubie Blake, and Ornette Coleman, just to name a couple. And there is one hero of mine, who is not a musician, but is a famous author.  His name is Ralph Ellison, the author of the famous novel “The Invisible Man”. He attended the same high school I attended in Oklahoma City, Douglass High School, many years before. I met him when he visited Oklahoma City in 1966, to be given an award from the State. My dear Band director Mr. W.E. Perry took me out of school to attend a luncheon with him and two other famous Oklahoma artists - the composer, Roy Harris, and the ballet dancer, Maria Tallchief.

I spoke to Mr. Ellison after the luncheon. And a few days later he came to Douglass High School to speak. We again spoke, and he asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. A typical question that black adults would ask young black students. I said a trumpet player and a composer. And he told me that this is what he wanted to be, but he became a writer instead. He asked me if I would I become that for him. I said of course.

So, these are my early musical heroes. I was lucky to have met them when I did. They have inspired me all throughout my life.

CAN YOU TELL US MORE ABOUT YOUR EARLY MUSICAL EDUCATION, UNTIL YOU WENT AWAY TO COLLEGE?

Well, In Oklahoma City I was very fortunate to have had so much encouragement from my music teachers, as well as other professional musicians in Oklahoma City: I mean the white professional musicians in Oklahoma City. I attended many of the Symphony concerts by the Oklahoma City Symphony Orchestra led by a fine English conductor named Guy Frazier Harrison. He had exciting programs, and he invited many great artists to perform with the orchestra. 

This Orchestra had something about it that’s sadly still unique in many American orchestras today: it had three Black musicians playing in it - a cellist, a violinist, and a tuba player. I knew them all. So, I knew at an early age what a Black classical musician looked like.

In my all-black high school, we had great choirs, an orchestra, and marching and concert bands. And the teachers programmed very exciting and current music of that time. We played Bach’s Concerto for two violins, Sibelius’s Finlandia, William Tell Overture, and Shostakovich’s Festive Overture (right after it was written.) Playing this music came naturally to us. We were led by such brilliant black music teachers, who could play all kinds of music.

The last year of high school, I began looking into colleges, and my wonderful instructors thought it best that I attend college out of state. One former music student from Indiana University in Bloomington Indiana (IU) thought that it would be great if I could attend this university and its famed school of music. 

In 1969, one year after the death of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., many mostly white colleges and Universities were searching for ways to increase their black student bodies. So, they developed special programs to bring in black students. At IU, there was a program such as this, but it was only for in-state students, but I was able to be included in this program as the only student from out of state, because of my musical abilities. I arrived on campus in June of 1969. I had really never met other young black students from out of state. They spoke and thought differently than myself. They were from cities larger than Oklahoma City. And they were mid-western blacks, not southern blacks. A different frame of mind. This was a different experience for me.

During this period, I had the great unforgettable fortune to be there, just before the music school presented the first “Black Music Conference”. This, too, happened as a reaction to the death of Dr. King the year before. This was a conference mainly of Black composers of classical music, which was then a field of black music largely overlooked.

I met most of the great Black composers of the day, starting with the “Dean of Black Composers”, William Grant Still. And I met others, some of whom became life-long friends: Hale Smith, Noel da Costa, Talib Rasul Hakim, George Walker, and others. This event also gave me faith as a young black composer. And one twist of fate at I.U. is that when I was a student in Oklahoma City, I discovered the music of the Greek Composer, Iannis Xenakis. Shortly after arriving at I.U., I saw that he taught there, and I became a student of his.

I also studied with the composer John Eaton, who would have a great influence on my life, until his untimely death in 2015. I wrote about him in my book, “Words by Memory and Other Words” published in 2019.

So, perhaps this is enough about my early music education. But in 1974, I moved to New York City, after spending a summer at Tanglewood. I had a job in New York with the Lincoln Centre Education Institute, teaching music workshops in the South Bronx. I had many performances of my music in New York during these years. But life there as a free-lance musician was not easy.

Anyway, I lived there until 1981, when I moved to Holland and lived there until 1985, which was a great experience for me. I was able to get grants to compose works, and I had my music performed there. Then back to New York in 1985 until the summer of 1994, when I moved to Switzerland, where I’ve lived ever since.

WHERE AND HOW DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN AFRICAN-AMERICAN CREATOR LIVING FOR MANY YEARS IN SWITZERLAND/EUROPE?

Well, that’s an interesting question, I am happy you asked. I’ve lived in Switzerland since 1994. I came here because my wife is from Switzerland.

I have to say that in terms of music, my life here in Switzerland has been mixed. During the first ten years, I mostly worked outside of Switzerland. Couldn’t find work here. I worked in Denmark, Holland, Hungary, France, Belgium. Just couldn’t find anything here in Switzerland. In the last ten years, I’ve been able to get support for my music projects here, from private foundations, and from the city of Biel and Kanton of Bern.

But the other side of the story is that during all these many years here, I’ve had with the exception of one ensemble, no performances of my music by the major Swiss New Music Ensembles. I’ve reached out to them over and over again. And the doors have remained closed to this day. I’ve tried to reach out to Swiss composers, but with no luck. They have, for the most part, not been open to me. Sad to admit, but I’ve experienced lots of racism in the classical music field here. Because it’s happened time and time again to me.

So, this has made my musical life here in Switzerland rather isolated. I’ve had to go outside of Switzerland to bring musicians here who were open to work with me. But, during all these years of isolation, I’ve kept working, kept composing, kept creating - with little recognition. I just  kept putting the energy out there, knowing somehow that it would eventually come back to me. Recently there was hope of working with a couple of ensembles here, but it all fell through, sadly.

One light that has come to me has been connecting with some really talented musicians from Frankfurt who played in the International Ensemble Modern  Academy. They took a liking to my music and began performing it, here in Swiss and in Germany, and this is how I began to work with your wonderful Ensemble Broken Frames Syndicate.

For me, it’s so inspiring to be finally noticed and respected, after all these years of semi-isolation. But in Switzerland, I have to say that I’ve gotten more noticed by free-improvisation musicians than the new music crowd. I have a trio in Zurich called “The UNIT”, and we‘ve done several performances in the last three years. So, I’ve had acceptance from this world, which has been really great and inspiring for me.

I am looking forward to our future work together. I am sure it’s gonna be lots of fun!! Thank you for this interview, and for being interested in my work. There is still so much that we could speak about, but perhaps in a follow up interview. 

On a final note, we must not forget the kind of world that we are presently living in. We are living and making music in a time of War. I think every day about this War in Ukraine. I was there once, and I made some really special friends there. I worry and pray for them.

I want to end this interview, if you would permit me, with some words I wrote about this War.  Thank you very much.

TESTIMENT

UNTIL
The killing stops
UNTIL
The blood stops
Flowing in the streets
UNTIL
All the tears dry up
UNTIL
The refugee returns
Home again
UNTIL
The skies are filled
With birds
In blueness
And not bombs
In darkness

We should all be
Forbidden 
To laugh
And to play happy
Music
We should all be
Forbidden to
Dance

UNTIL

All the killing stops.

Biel, April 11, 2022

The memory of home is triggered by sounds

As professional musicians, we perceive our environment primarily acoustically - so the memory of "home" is also triggered primarily by specific sounds. Subconsciously, the sound of our hometowns constantly helps us to locate ourselves.

To share this phenomenon, we connect the ensemble pieces of "Displacement" through electroacoustic interludes. Thus, the concert will open with sounds familiar to people living in Germany. In the course of the concert, however, this familiar soundscape is increasingly enriched with field recordings and everyday sounds from the composers' countries of birth.
We hear recordings from South Korea, Japan, and the USA.

Listen for yourself! What does your own home sound like?

Gangnam Street, Seoul – South Korea

Shibuya, Tokyo – Japan

Times Square, New York City – USA

Frankfurt – Germany

Why do we miss home when we are not there?
Is the home we miss a specific place or an abstract feeling?
What should "not being at home" mean?
Can I feel "foreign" in a familiar environment?
What does "feeling foreign" do to me?

DISPLACEMEN" is a very personal program and was initiated by our composer Yongbom together with our cellist Kyubin. It is a first musical approach to themes such as home, belonging and the feeling of "being a stranger". "Home" is not necessarily a spatial phenomenon. The feeling of belonging or of being "displaced" is complex and can also concern our place in society, our spirituality, aesthetic preferences or sexual orientation.

The starting point for this is the "uprooting experiences" of our Korean composer Yongbom Lee. In a globalized world, the question of where one comes from is no longer easy to answer and is even increasingly seen as problematic. It is especially difficult for people who are often confronted with this question because of the color of their skin and who constantly have to justify their own sense of belonging, since a white majority society nevertheless ascribes them to a "foreign" cultural group, regardless of where they were ultimately born. Their personally perceived identity is thus always determined by others.
_

Broken Frames Syndicate unites 7 different nationalities

Different cultural backgrounds meet and are a regular topic when we work together.
In order to develop a common musical voice, it is necessary to embrace the existing differences, to listen to each other and to share individual experiences with the group. In doing so, our non-European members describe a surreal feeling of being uprooted and talk about their search for their own identity in a still "foreign" environment.

In this concert we focus on the experiences of our Asian friends, whose situation remains underexposed in the current racism debate.

Our composer Yongbom Lee:
"As a South-Korean composer living in Germany, I always had to struggle orienting myself. From the soundscape including the language to the daily foods, I spent many years adopting myself in Germany. Afer many years I could gradually admit being "displaced" and started to deconstruct the traditional meaning of one's orientation."

For composers, the question of their own cultural home is very relevant. For many decades composers have been living in a so-called "hypercultural" society and searching for their own voice in music. Despite their uprootedness, or perhaps because of it, they readily incorporate elements from the places in which they grew up. Here conflicts, reconciliation, change and redefinition occur.

Jeden Tag sehen wir uns einer schier unfassbaren Anzahl kleiner und größter Katastrophen gegenüber. Spätestens die Nachrichten in Fernsehen und Radio — ganz zu schweigen von unseren Timelines auf Facebook und Co. — versorgen uns permanent mit Schreckensbildern und zeichnen ein äußerst düsteres Bild der Welt.

Kriege und Hungersnöte, Pandemie, die Folgen von sich häufenden Naturkatastrophen, Unrechtsregime … die Liste ließe sich unendlich fortführen.

All das macht Angst.

Angst vor dem Unbegreiflichen. Angst vor dem, was noch kommt. Angst, das Gewohnte zu verlieren.

Dabei wird der enorme Luxus, in einem Land wie Deutschland zu leben, offensichtlich.

Noch geht es uns sehr gut hier …

… doch was, wenn alles schlimmer wird? Was, wenn die Folgen des Klimawandels für neue Flutwellen sorgen? Was, wenn plötzlich die falschen Kräfte an die Macht kommen?

OHNMÄCHTIG ALLEINE SEIN.

Uns bleibt nur die Rolle der ohnmächtigen Beobachter:innen. Mit weit geöffneten Augen stehen wir letztlich alleine und ungläubig da – wie das erstarrte Reh im Scheinwerferlicht eines heranrasenden Autos.

WARUM LEGT IHR DEN FINGER IN DIE WUNDE?

Wir wurden gefragt, warum wir unsere Ängste zum Thema eines Konzertprogrammes machen. Müsste Musik nicht vielmehr Erfahrungen schaffen, die uns die Wirklichkeit für einen Moment vergessen machen? Sollte ein Konzert nicht einfach nur unterhaltsam sein?

Nein. Musik und Kunst soll und kann zum Nachdenken anregen. Wir wollen ansprechen, was uns selbst auf dem Herzen liegt, was uns bewegt und zeigen unserem Publikum:

Ihr seid nicht allein.

NIGHTMARE schafft dennoch eine Parallelwelt. Ähnlich wie Alice im Wunderland schlüpfen wir durch ein imaginäres Hasenloch, tauchen ein in eine schräge Albtraumwelt. Weit unten schlummert die Hoffnung, bald zu erwachen — dass am Ende doch alles nur ein Traum gewesen ist

Die performten Stücke sprechen über Vereinzelung und das Alleinsein, thematisieren den Albtraum und lassen uns immer wieder aufschrecken. Auf der Bühne konfrontieren wir uns mit unseren ganz eigenen, persönlichen Albträumen und lassen Zuhörer:innen daran teilhaben.

—

Moritz Schneidewendt
14.09.2021

Was, wenn jeder Traum zum Albtraum wird? 

In der Regel erinnern sich die meisten Menschen in meinem Umfeld nicht an ihre Träume. Ich hingegen schon. Jede Nacht treffe ich viele Personen – manche kenne ich, viele nicht. Es ist, als säße ich die ganze Nacht in einem Kino und schaute einen Film nach dem anderen. Am nächsten Tag bin ich müde, verwirrt und gerädert. Häufig dauert es ein bis zwei Stunden nach dem Aufwachen, bis ich ziemlich schlecht gelaunt in der Realität ankomme. Viele Träume begleiten mich noch über den Tag hinweg, weil Bilder und Emotionen dieser Träume in meinem Gedächtnis hängen bleiben. Ich erinnere mich immer noch an Träume, die ich vor Jahren hatte. Vom freien Fall über Verfolgungsjagden bis hin zum Verlust geliebter Menschen und sogar erotische Träume ist alles dabei. Manche Träume sind der reinste Horror, die meisten jedoch zufällige und absurde Dinge, die, wenn ich versuche sie in Worte zu fassen, überhaupt keinen Sinn ergeben und in meinem Gedächtnis verblassen. Zurück bleibt am Morgen einzig das Gefühl der Verwirrung und der Überforderung als Folge überwältigender Bilder im Kopf. Manchmal bin ich mir nicht einmal sicher, ob ich bestimmte Alltagssituationen geträumt habe oder ob sie sich tatsächlich ereignet haben.

Seit ungefähr 15 Jahren leide ich unter diesem Phänomen. Was macht das mit mir? Eigentlich sollte der Schlaf Erholung bringen. Er ist essenziell wichtig für unsere Gesundheit. Doch mein Schlaf und ich, wir sind Todfeinde. Er ist zu meinem größten Albtraum geworden. Schlafen ist für mich so anstrengend, dass ich Angst davor habe. Denn oft finde ich ihn erst gar nicht und bin nächtelang hellwach. Oder ich schlafe und die vielen Träume überwältigen mich. Schlafentzug und die fehlende Erholung treiben einen nach und nach in den Wahnsinn. Irgendwann habe ich einmal gelesen, dass Schlafentzug eine effektive Foltermethode ist. Ich glaube, ich habe in den letzten Jahren eine Ahnung davon erhalten, wie es sich anfühlen kann. Gesunder Schlaf ist ein Luxusgut, das den meisten Menschen gar nicht bewusst ist. Sie empfinden es als eine Selbstverständlichkeit. Bis sie einmal schlecht schlafen! Dann ist das Gejammer groß. Aber was soll ich dazu sagen… Sorry Guys! WELCOME TO MY LIFE

—

Katrin Szamatulski
12.09.2021

JALALU, WE WOULD LIKE TO WELCOME YOU AS OUR FIRST COMPOSER-IN-RESIDENCE! COULD YOU FIRST TELL US ABOUT YOUR HISTORY AS A COMPOSER AND PERFORMER? 

Well, I was born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma on August 19th, 1951, in the height of the Korean War. During this time, one would see gross segregation and racial discrimination in America. It would be, in five years, the beginning of the age of Dr. Martin Luther King –  that would transform America.
In the fifties, when I was born, most of the black people in Oklahoma City lived on the East side of town; of course, that was on the other side of the railroad tracks. I attended, during all of my school years, all-black schools. Although in my high school years we had a couple of white teachers.

But in terms of my first exposure to music:  At my grandmother’s house, there was a beautiful upright piano which was the most beautiful piece of furniture in the whole house. So I was surrounded by music at an early age. It all seemed so natural to me that I would soon try my hand at playing the piano.
And many times, I would listen to radio broadcasts from the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra or the New York Philharmonic. I somehow just had a natural love for classical music.

My aunt and grandmother encouraged me. And, of course, I was one of the millions of young people who watched Leonard Bernstein’s Young People’s Concerts on T.V. So many young people became musicians because of these broadcasts, and I was one of them. Little did I know then, that over fifteen years later I would meet him at Tanglewood.
So, I listened to all kinds of classical music, as well as gospel music, that my Aunt Vera loved. She would often take me to concerts of famous black Gospel   music groups that came through Oklahoma City, like The Five Blind Boys of Alabama and many others. 

I believe that I began to put notes down on paper around the age of ten or eleven - things that I made up on the piano. I began taking piano lessons at 10 or 11 years old. When I was thirteen, I began playing the trumpet. My second piano teacher, Mrs. Dorothy Barrett, was very encouraging for me. When she presented her annual spring recital of her students, she encouraged me to play trumpet and even play my compositions for piano. I always looked forward to this event. My aunt and grandmother were in the first row of course. So, this was the beginning of my life as a composer-performer.

And as they say, the rest is history.

THANK YOU, JALALU. ARE TEHRE ANY INFLUENCES OR MUSICAL HEROES THAT HAVE HAD A LASTING IMPACT ON YOU?

Oh yes, I have a few! My first musical hero was probably my Aunt Verna, who sang in the Church Choir. She had such a beautiful voice, and I just loved to hear her sing every Sunday. This sort of music gave me my early vision of having a life in music. 

Along with my aunt Verna, I can say that my earliest musical heroes were not musicians at all. They were my Grandmother Gussie and my Aunt Vera, the sister of Verna. Aunt Vera never married, she lived with my Grandmother until my Grandmother died in 1968. And she died six months later. The piano was at their home, and as I said, this is where I discovered music. They always encouraged me when I was young. They paid for my piano lessons, which cost 75 cents. Can’t believe it!  But I was happy when they gave me a dollar, which was a lot of money in the 50’s. I would have 25 cents left over. And I could buy a treat of cookies, a drink and chips!!!  This was the best part of the Saturday piano lessons. They both taught me life-lessons, until they died, that I still try to follow these many years later. They are always with me. Their spirits still encourage and watch over me.

One early musical hero of mine is the Great Duke Ellington. I first saw him in the summer of 1968, in Boston, when I was attending a summer course at the Berklee School of Music. He was performing an outdoor concert in the Roxbury section of Boston. I met him when he performed in Oklahoma City in the spring of 1969, and I would see him when he would give concerts in the mid-west. In the summer of 1972, there was a Duke Ellington Festival put on by the University of Wisconsin at Madison. My School gave me funds to attend, as a part of my studies. This was a unique experience because this was five days of nothing but Ellington!  I heard his band each night. I became friends with some of the musicians in the band. Especially the great Paul Gonsalves, who played tenor saxophone. He was such a kind person, and an amazing musician. He was a long-time member of the Ellington band. I remember the last time that I saw him was in Indianapolis, in September 1973. One of my other heroes was the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius. I was blown away when I first heard his work “Finlandia”. And I went on to discover other works of his. Also, during my high school years, I discovered the music of Webern, Schoenberg and of course Stravinsky. Especially his “Firebird Suite”.

All this music came naturally to me. My dear Aunt and Grandmother tolerated it when I would listen to this music on the radio. They never held me back in my musical explorations or told me to stop, when I would be banging on the piano.

My other musical hero was the Greek composer Iannis Xenakis, whose 100th birthday is celebrated this year. I remember, in Oklahoma City at a record store, I discovered a record by him. I went up to the counter to buy the record, and the owner of the store was surprised that I wanted to buy this, what for him was nothing but noise. He asked me if I thought that this was music, and I said yes. He said, “I am gonna do you a favor. I will give you this record for free to just get it out of my shop.” So, I did him the favor!And destiny would have it, that two years later, when I entered Indiana University, I discovered that he was a professor there. And I studied with him, along with my other great composition teacher, John Eaton. 

I remember the last time that I saw Xenakis was many years later, when I was in Paris in the spring of 1995. I was staying with a friend near the Pigalle metro station, and I remember that Xenakis told me that he lived in this area. In the evening after playing my friend a CD I had of a work of his, we went out for a walk. As we passed a small food shop, I looked in, and to my great surprise there he was! What a surprise, just speaking of him and went outside, and there he was! He happily greeted me. He was with his wife and friend. We exchanged some words. Then his wife motioned to him that they had to leave. This was the last time that I would see him. So, he was a very special musical hero of mine.

Of course, I have others, whom I also met: Eubie Blake, and Ornette Coleman, just to name a couple. And there is one hero of mine, who is not a musician, but is a famous author.  His name is Ralph Ellison, the author of the famous novel “The Invisible Man”. He attended the same high school I attended in Oklahoma City, Douglass High School, many years before. I met him when he visited Oklahoma City in 1966, to be given an award from the State. My dear Band director Mr. W.E. Perry took me out of school to attend a luncheon with him and two other famous Oklahoma artists - the composer, Roy Harris, and the ballet dancer, Maria Tallchief.

I spoke to Mr. Ellison after the luncheon. And a few days later he came to Douglass High School to speak. We again spoke, and he asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. A typical question that black adults would ask young black students. I said a trumpet player and a composer. And he told me that this is what he wanted to be, but he became a writer instead. He asked me if I would I become that for him. I said of course.

So, these are my early musical heroes. I was lucky to have met them when I did. They have inspired me all throughout my life.

CAN YOU TELL US MORE ABOUT YOUR EARLY MUSICAL EDUCATION, UNTIL YOU WENT AWAY TO COLLEGE?

Well, In Oklahoma City I was very fortunate to have had so much encouragement from my music teachers, as well as other professional musicians in Oklahoma City: I mean the white professional musicians in Oklahoma City. I attended many of the Symphony concerts by the Oklahoma City Symphony Orchestra led by a fine English conductor named Guy Frazier Harrison. He had exciting programs, and he invited many great artists to perform with the orchestra. 

This Orchestra had something about it that’s sadly still unique in many American orchestras today: it had three Black musicians playing in it - a cellist, a violinist, and a tuba player. I knew them all. So, I knew at an early age what a Black classical musician looked like.

In my all-black high school, we had great choirs, an orchestra, and marching and concert bands. And the teachers programmed very exciting and current music of that time. We played Bach’s Concerto for two violins, Sibelius’s Finlandia, William Tell Overture, and Shostakovich’s Festive Overture (right after it was written.) Playing this music came naturally to us. We were led by such brilliant black music teachers, who could play all kinds of music.

The last year of high school, I began looking into colleges, and my wonderful instructors thought it best that I attend college out of state. One former music student from Indiana University in Bloomington Indiana (IU) thought that it would be great if I could attend this university and its famed school of music. 

In 1969, one year after the death of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., many mostly white colleges and Universities were searching for ways to increase their black student bodies. So, they developed special programs to bring in black students. At IU, there was a program such as this, but it was only for in-state students, but I was able to be included in this program as the only student from out of state, because of my musical abilities. I arrived on campus in June of 1969. I had really never met other young black students from out of state. They spoke and thought differently than myself. They were from cities larger than Oklahoma City. And they were mid-western blacks, not southern blacks. A different frame of mind. This was a different experience for me.

During this period, I had the great unforgettable fortune to be there, just before the music school presented the first “Black Music Conference”. This, too, happened as a reaction to the death of Dr. King the year before. This was a conference mainly of Black composers of classical music, which was then a field of black music largely overlooked.

I met most of the great Black composers of the day, starting with the “Dean of Black Composers”, William Grant Still. And I met others, some of whom became life-long friends: Hale Smith, Noel da Costa, Talib Rasul Hakim, George Walker, and others. This event also gave me faith as a young black composer. And one twist of fate at I.U. is that when I was a student in Oklahoma City, I discovered the music of the Greek Composer, Iannis Xenakis. Shortly after arriving at I.U., I saw that he taught there, and I became a student of his.

I also studied with the composer John Eaton, who would have a great influence on my life, until his untimely death in 2015. I wrote about him in my book, “Words by Memory and Other Words” published in 2019.

So, perhaps this is enough about my early music education. But in 1974, I moved to New York City, after spending a summer at Tanglewood. I had a job in New York with the Lincoln Centre Education Institute, teaching music workshops in the South Bronx. I had many performances of my music in New York during these years. But life there as a free-lance musician was not easy.

Anyway, I lived there until 1981, when I moved to Holland and lived there until 1985, which was a great experience for me. I was able to get grants to compose works, and I had my music performed there. Then back to New York in 1985 until the summer of 1994, when I moved to Switzerland, where I’ve lived ever since.

WHERE AND HOW DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN AFRICAN-AMERICAN CREATOR LIVING FOR MANY YEARS IN SWITZERLAND/EUROPE?

Well, that’s an interesting question, I am happy you asked. I’ve lived in Switzerland since 1994. I came here because my wife is from Switzerland.

I have to say that in terms of music, my life here in Switzerland has been mixed. During the first ten years, I mostly worked outside of Switzerland. Couldn’t find work here. I worked in Denmark, Holland, Hungary, France, Belgium. Just couldn’t find anything here in Switzerland. In the last ten years, I’ve been able to get support for my music projects here, from private foundations, and from the city of Biel and Kanton of Bern.

But the other side of the story is that during all these many years here, I’ve had with the exception of one ensemble, no performances of my music by the major Swiss New Music Ensembles. I’ve reached out to them over and over again. And the doors have remained closed to this day. I’ve tried to reach out to Swiss composers, but with no luck. They have, for the most part, not been open to me. Sad to admit, but I’ve experienced lots of racism in the classical music field here. Because it’s happened time and time again to me.

So, this has made my musical life here in Switzerland rather isolated. I’ve had to go outside of Switzerland to bring musicians here who were open to work with me. But, during all these years of isolation, I’ve kept working, kept composing, kept creating - with little recognition. I just  kept putting the energy out there, knowing somehow that it would eventually come back to me. Recently there was hope of working with a couple of ensembles here, but it all fell through, sadly.

One light that has come to me has been connecting with some really talented musicians from Frankfurt who played in the International Ensemble Modern  Academy. They took a liking to my music and began performing it, here in Swiss and in Germany, and this is how I began to work with your wonderful Ensemble Broken Frames Syndicate.

For me, it’s so inspiring to be finally noticed and respected, after all these years of semi-isolation. But in Switzerland, I have to say that I’ve gotten more noticed by free-improvisation musicians than the new music crowd. I have a trio in Zurich called “The UNIT”, and we‘ve done several performances in the last three years. So, I’ve had acceptance from this world, which has been really great and inspiring for me.

I am looking forward to our future work together. I am sure it’s gonna be lots of fun!! Thank you for this interview, and for being interested in my work. There is still so much that we could speak about, but perhaps in a follow up interview. 

On a final note, we must not forget the kind of world that we are presently living in. We are living and making music in a time of War. I think every day about this War in Ukraine. I was there once, and I made some really special friends there. I worry and pray for them.

I want to end this interview, if you would permit me, with some words I wrote about this War.  Thank you very much.

TESTIMENT

UNTIL
The killing stops
UNTIL
The blood stops
Flowing in the streets
UNTIL
All the tears dry up
UNTIL
The refugee returns
Home again
UNTIL
The skies are filled
With birds
In blueness
And not bombs
In darkness

We should all be
Forbidden 
To laugh
And to play happy
Music
We should all be
Forbidden to
Dance

UNTIL

All the killing stops.

Biel, April 11, 2022

The memory of home is triggered by sounds

As professional musicians, we perceive our environment primarily acoustically - so the memory of "home" is also triggered primarily by specific sounds. Subconsciously, the sound of our hometowns constantly helps us to locate ourselves.

To share this phenomenon, we connect the ensemble pieces of "Displacement" through electroacoustic interludes. Thus, the concert will open with sounds familiar to people living in Germany. In the course of the concert, however, this familiar soundscape is increasingly enriched with field recordings and everyday sounds from the composers' countries of birth.
We hear recordings from South Korea, Japan, and the USA.

Listen for yourself! What does your own home sound like?

Gangnam Street, Seoul – South Korea

Shibuya, Tokyo – Japan

Times Square, New York City – USA

Frankfurt – Germany

Why do we miss home when we are not there?
Is the home we miss a specific place or an abstract feeling?
What should "not being at home" mean?
Can I feel "foreign" in a familiar environment?
What does "feeling foreign" do to me?

DISPLACEMEN" is a very personal program and was initiated by our composer Yongbom together with our cellist Kyubin. It is a first musical approach to themes such as home, belonging and the feeling of "being a stranger". "Home" is not necessarily a spatial phenomenon. The feeling of belonging or of being "displaced" is complex and can also concern our place in society, our spirituality, aesthetic preferences or sexual orientation.

The starting point for this is the "uprooting experiences" of our Korean composer Yongbom Lee. In a globalized world, the question of where one comes from is no longer easy to answer and is even increasingly seen as problematic. It is especially difficult for people who are often confronted with this question because of the color of their skin and who constantly have to justify their own sense of belonging, since a white majority society nevertheless ascribes them to a "foreign" cultural group, regardless of where they were ultimately born. Their personally perceived identity is thus always determined by others.
_

Broken Frames Syndicate unites 7 different nationalities

Different cultural backgrounds meet and are a regular topic when we work together.
In order to develop a common musical voice, it is necessary to embrace the existing differences, to listen to each other and to share individual experiences with the group. In doing so, our non-European members describe a surreal feeling of being uprooted and talk about their search for their own identity in a still "foreign" environment.

In this concert we focus on the experiences of our Asian friends, whose situation remains underexposed in the current racism debate.

Our composer Yongbom Lee:
"As a South-Korean composer living in Germany, I always had to struggle orienting myself. From the soundscape including the language to the daily foods, I spent many years adopting myself in Germany. Afer many years I could gradually admit being "displaced" and started to deconstruct the traditional meaning of one's orientation."

For composers, the question of their own cultural home is very relevant. For many decades composers have been living in a so-called "hypercultural" society and searching for their own voice in music. Despite their uprootedness, or perhaps because of it, they readily incorporate elements from the places in which they grew up. Here conflicts, reconciliation, change and redefinition occur.

Jeden Tag sehen wir uns einer schier unfassbaren Anzahl kleiner und größter Katastrophen gegenüber. Spätestens die Nachrichten in Fernsehen und Radio — ganz zu schweigen von unseren Timelines auf Facebook und Co. — versorgen uns permanent mit Schreckensbildern und zeichnen ein äußerst düsteres Bild der Welt.

Kriege und Hungersnöte, Pandemie, die Folgen von sich häufenden Naturkatastrophen, Unrechtsregime … die Liste ließe sich unendlich fortführen.

All das macht Angst.

Angst vor dem Unbegreiflichen. Angst vor dem, was noch kommt. Angst, das Gewohnte zu verlieren.

Dabei wird der enorme Luxus, in einem Land wie Deutschland zu leben, offensichtlich.

Noch geht es uns sehr gut hier …

… doch was, wenn alles schlimmer wird? Was, wenn die Folgen des Klimawandels für neue Flutwellen sorgen? Was, wenn plötzlich die falschen Kräfte an die Macht kommen?

OHNMÄCHTIG ALLEINE SEIN.

Uns bleibt nur die Rolle der ohnmächtigen Beobachter:innen. Mit weit geöffneten Augen stehen wir letztlich alleine und ungläubig da – wie das erstarrte Reh im Scheinwerferlicht eines heranrasenden Autos.

WARUM LEGT IHR DEN FINGER IN DIE WUNDE?

Wir wurden gefragt, warum wir unsere Ängste zum Thema eines Konzertprogrammes machen. Müsste Musik nicht vielmehr Erfahrungen schaffen, die uns die Wirklichkeit für einen Moment vergessen machen? Sollte ein Konzert nicht einfach nur unterhaltsam sein?

Nein. Musik und Kunst soll und kann zum Nachdenken anregen. Wir wollen ansprechen, was uns selbst auf dem Herzen liegt, was uns bewegt und zeigen unserem Publikum:

Ihr seid nicht allein.

NIGHTMARE schafft dennoch eine Parallelwelt. Ähnlich wie Alice im Wunderland schlüpfen wir durch ein imaginäres Hasenloch, tauchen ein in eine schräge Albtraumwelt. Weit unten schlummert die Hoffnung, bald zu erwachen — dass am Ende doch alles nur ein Traum gewesen ist

Die performten Stücke sprechen über Vereinzelung und das Alleinsein, thematisieren den Albtraum und lassen uns immer wieder aufschrecken. Auf der Bühne konfrontieren wir uns mit unseren ganz eigenen, persönlichen Albträumen und lassen Zuhörer:innen daran teilhaben.

—

Moritz Schneidewendt
14.09.2021

Was, wenn jeder Traum zum Albtraum wird? 

In der Regel erinnern sich die meisten Menschen in meinem Umfeld nicht an ihre Träume. Ich hingegen schon. Jede Nacht treffe ich viele Personen – manche kenne ich, viele nicht. Es ist, als säße ich die ganze Nacht in einem Kino und schaute einen Film nach dem anderen. Am nächsten Tag bin ich müde, verwirrt und gerädert. Häufig dauert es ein bis zwei Stunden nach dem Aufwachen, bis ich ziemlich schlecht gelaunt in der Realität ankomme. Viele Träume begleiten mich noch über den Tag hinweg, weil Bilder und Emotionen dieser Träume in meinem Gedächtnis hängen bleiben. Ich erinnere mich immer noch an Träume, die ich vor Jahren hatte. Vom freien Fall über Verfolgungsjagden bis hin zum Verlust geliebter Menschen und sogar erotische Träume ist alles dabei. Manche Träume sind der reinste Horror, die meisten jedoch zufällige und absurde Dinge, die, wenn ich versuche sie in Worte zu fassen, überhaupt keinen Sinn ergeben und in meinem Gedächtnis verblassen. Zurück bleibt am Morgen einzig das Gefühl der Verwirrung und der Überforderung als Folge überwältigender Bilder im Kopf. Manchmal bin ich mir nicht einmal sicher, ob ich bestimmte Alltagssituationen geträumt habe oder ob sie sich tatsächlich ereignet haben.

Seit ungefähr 15 Jahren leide ich unter diesem Phänomen. Was macht das mit mir? Eigentlich sollte der Schlaf Erholung bringen. Er ist essenziell wichtig für unsere Gesundheit. Doch mein Schlaf und ich, wir sind Todfeinde. Er ist zu meinem größten Albtraum geworden. Schlafen ist für mich so anstrengend, dass ich Angst davor habe. Denn oft finde ich ihn erst gar nicht und bin nächtelang hellwach. Oder ich schlafe und die vielen Träume überwältigen mich. Schlafentzug und die fehlende Erholung treiben einen nach und nach in den Wahnsinn. Irgendwann habe ich einmal gelesen, dass Schlafentzug eine effektive Foltermethode ist. Ich glaube, ich habe in den letzten Jahren eine Ahnung davon erhalten, wie es sich anfühlen kann. Gesunder Schlaf ist ein Luxusgut, das den meisten Menschen gar nicht bewusst ist. Sie empfinden es als eine Selbstverständlichkeit. Bis sie einmal schlecht schlafen! Dann ist das Gejammer groß. Aber was soll ich dazu sagen… Sorry Guys! WELCOME TO MY LIFE

—

Katrin Szamatulski
12.09.2021