Jan van de Putte: 'My work is about conquering music'

Dutch composer Jan van de Putte (b. 1959) invariably crosses the boundaries of music. Hesitant starts, silence, wide gestures and explorations of our subconscious are as natural in his score as resounding tones. Last autumn he published his four-part song cycle set to poetry by Pessoa, in which he aptly depicts the Portuguese poet's stammer.

His latest composition will be heard on 8 November, Cette agitation perpétuelle/cette turbulence sans but (This eternal agitation/this aimless restlessness). In this too, gestures and seemingly irrelevant prevelations appear to be at the heart of the piece. He composed this for Klangforum Wien, which is performing the world premiere at Muziekgebouw aan 't IJ. There will be a public rehearsal beforehand, from 13.00-13.45. Afterwards, I will talk to him about the how and why of his composition. As a taster, I asked him three questions in advance.

Abstract theatre

What typifies you as a composer?

One thing is very important to me: I try to make long lines with a drawn-out development. I want something to happen that takes people from one world into another, everything is connected. Form is very important in this and there is a great intertwining of music and theatre. - In which, incidentally, I also consider theatre to be music. My plays are often about the same thing: everyone is doing something but they are not making any progress, there is no point. This futility is characteristic of my music, but there is always a sincere and sometimes passionate attempt.

I use the theatrical elements abstractly, unlike, say, Mauricio Kagel. In his work, someone does something funny and then goes on making music. With me, the theatre comes from musical actions that are performed anyway, but are not experienced as part of the music. That could be turning a page, for example. My recently completed piece for solo cello starts with walking. Only after ten minutes does the cellist take up the stick. This is followed by another long scene before he or she finally picks up the cello and actually starts playing. The performer needs my music to capture you, so to speak. This is how I allow things that are seemingly far apart to merge together: regular acts lose their anonymity and gain meaning.

Pantomime and puppet theatre

What is your piece about and where does the title come from?

I have been interested in pantomime and puppetry for many years in the 19^e century. I read about this in a series of booklets by publisher La Pléiade on the history of theatre in France. In the 19^e century, the Comédie Française was the only one with all performance rights. Pantomime originated from tightrope walkers, who were only allowed to perform if they did not use words. That is why there was always a State controller in the audience. A big star of pantomime was Jean-Gaspard Deburau. He was immortalised in 1945 as the white-masked Pierrot in the film Les enfants du paradis.

Later, one dancer was allowed to say something anyway, but this was obviously smuggled. Then someone would speak a sentence, leave the room and another would return and give the answer. That way you still got a kind of dialogue. Debureau played an important role in this development and all French writers went to his theatre. It was a kind of idolisation of the vulgar theatre by the aristocratic class. The French romantic author Théophile Gautier also wrote about this; my title is a phrase from one of his articles.

Raging downtime

Cette agitation perpétuelle/cette turbulence sans but reflects on today's world, in which everything moves far too fast. Hartmut Rosa wrote the brilliant book about this Beschleunigung (acceleration). We used to write the occasional letter, then email came along and we thought it would save us a lot of time. But it ends up being in its opposite, we get buried under an excess of messages. This leads to French philosopher Paul Virilio's notion of 'Raging stasis', which my oboe quartet was also already about.

How did you set up the work?

I work with acceleration and deceleration, even how the musicians enter is precisely prescribed. They enter the stage at a pulse of metronome number 135, just a little too fast. Then they slow down to a normal walking pace. As a spectator, you sense that something strange is going on, but you don't know exactly what. Bowing also takes just a little too long, after which they walk to their spot and the pace slows even further. This foreshadows the ending, in which everything happens in slow-motion and becomes a kind of visual poetry.

As everyone sits ready for the conductor, the oboist and the flautist have a conversation in a whisper about a married lady being seduced by a pretty boy. And how outrageous that is - it's 19^e century puppet theatre for a simple, adult audience. They get jealous of each other and get into huge arguments, but you can barely hear it. When the ladies stop talking, the double bass looks up, the guitarist follows his gaze to see what is happening there and only then do they start playing. That, too, foreshadows the finale.

Acceleration and deceleration

Everything is moving super fast, there is a constant turmoil. This manifests itself in many ways. Melodies jump, for example, every 16^e from instrument to instrument, moving swiftly through the ensemble. They repeat everything again but faster. Then, in reverse order, they do it even faster again. Until suddenly they start doing something completely different, it's one nervous scramble.

Towards the end, a huge delay occurs as a sixteenth keeps adding. This goes on and on until they stop playing and switch to movement. This gets slower and slower, so that you see an ensemble in slow-motion. They also barely produce any sound, except for a single instrument. The musicians look up, at a very high note sounding there. When this starts moving, they follow the up-and-down with their gazes, the making of music completely gone. Everything has turned into poetry, the turning of a leaf, the looking. From the looking they start singing, then the music starts up again. There begins the second part, which I will write below.

Thursday 8 November 2018 Muziekgebouw aan 't IJ: Klangforum Wien / Beat Furrer
Music from Beat Furrer, Rebecca Saunders and Jan van de Putte. More info and tickets for the concert here.
Tickets for free public rehearsal here.
The concert will be repeated on Friday 9 November at November Music, in the Verkadefabriek.