‘You may not be here, but your music most certainly is’
Louis Andriessen (6 juni 1939 – 1 juli 2021) was componist. De Amerikaanse componist Steve Reich schrijft hem een brief.
Dear Louis,
As I write this, I’m listening to De Staat. I’ve got chills down my spine and as you know, that’s a very good sign. The opening is so tightly dissonant with that enormous brass/woodwind force. Then – the women’s voices and we’re in another world, that sits right on D, E, G#, A. That E-A center hangs around, until a bit later you give us good strong Eb. Then many clusters/motives and here comes C, D, G, F#, A, repeated with shifting accents until, watch out, here’s Eb, F, Gb, Ab to challenge tonality and rhythm. Blocks suddenly changing into other blocks and Stravinsky’s in the background.
You gave us that great piece in 1976. Now you’re not here, but I was just listening to you, and I’m certainly not the only one. I remember you yelling out my name at a concert I gave with my ensemble at Carré sometime in the late 70s or early 80s. Then we became friends and I saw you in Holland when I was working with Reinbert and the Netherlands Wind Ensemble. I was interested in hockets and so were you. You even wrote Hoketus the same year you finished De Staat. (The same year I finished Music for 18 Musicians.)
Now I’m listening to Hoketus. What a productive year! You were interested in what I and others were doing in America, but you were clearly your own man and nowhere more clearly than in your harmony. You had studied with Luciano Berio and so had I. You were a teacher and supporter of Bang on a Can and they became good musical friends of mine in New York.
My last memory of you, and Reinbert too, was when you both took me to have tea with Queen Beatrix, about ten years ago. A very varied collection of memories. In any event, as I said before, you may not be here, but your music most certainly is.
As ever, your friend.
Steve