The programming at Tim Parkinson’s regular
Stratford Place concerts gives some clues as to the inspiration
behind his own compositions: Morton Feldman rubs shoulders with
music by a host of post-minimalists: Lawrence Crane, James Saunders,
and Bryn Harrison, who recommends only that we listen. . .
It can often be difficult (and rather paradoxical) to write of
a music that speaks largely for itself – to fall into the
trap of using one language to express another. As I made notes for
this article I found myself facing the same paradox – how
to comment on a music that asks only one thing of the listener –
to listen.
Tim himself has, in the past, expressed this same difficulty with
regard to choosing titles for pieces. ‘any’, ‘both’,
or ‘violin and piano piece’ might just as well be described
as ‘non-titles’ since they lead us nowhere and convey
no direct sense of meaning. They are, however, entirely fitting
since they intelligently allow an associative freedom on the part
of the listener.
These are pieces in which notes quietly collide, brush against
each other or simply co-exist in a state of harmonious indifference.
What we, the listener, are presented with is a time frame in which
rates of change can be contained. Pieces such as ‘both’,
‘violin and piano piece’ or ‘straw dogs’
might even be better described as musical assemblages due to the
way in which the material is presented; the two parts require only
an approximate sense of co-ordination.
There is here, I feel, a nod towards indifference, but not without
a certain sense of caution - accepting freedom yet respecting the
attendant responsibility that comes with that freedom. For Tim,
these responsibilities seem to lie in making intentional the unintentional,
and of creating something that is “artfully artless”.
Such statements may appear once more paradoxical. Tim, on the other
hand, would perhaps rather modestly say that he was simply “fond
of ‘junk’ and how to present it’.
What these assemblages contain for me is a sense of clarity, both
in line and texture. These are pieces that, despite their apparent
simplicity, require prolonged time scales in order to draw the listener
sufficiently into the fabric of the music and to give us time to
let go of a sense of association. As we become more and more immersed
in the music, thought becomes subjugated to non-thought, boundaries
disappear and, as words fail us, we start to listen.
Bryn Harrison, March 1999
Extract from "Bed" © Tim Parkinson 1997
(Tim Parkinson photo: Damian Llambias)
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