‘Liminal’, from the Latin limen, denotes both thresholds and, curiously, the home. Since its original use by the anthropologist Arnold van Gennep in 1909 to label the central stage in a transformational rite of passage, the term has been used in very many contexts: from writings concerning sociology within both local and global contexts to an internet aesthetic of eerie empty spaces, a sort of loose understanding of modern spiritualities and plenty of art gallery labels.

The recent new edition of Helmut Lachenmann's Salut für Caudwell (1977) published in Breitkopf & Härtel (2020) by guitarist-researcher Seth Josel has renewed public attention on this seminal work from contemporary guitar literature. As a performer myself, I first performed the piece in 2008 (its Chilean premiere) and have recently premiered the new edition. Performing this piece in a concert situation is always a big event for both performers and listeners; the score seems to age well and its multivalence urges a rethink about how to approach it today. The purpose of this article is threefold: to consider the contribution of the new edition, to examine the relation of notation and performance through the analysis of selected recordings and to interrogate the possible futures for Salut, given recent developments in research into contemporary performing practice.

This is the transcript of an interview with Glasgow-based Australian composer Dr Jane Stanley. The interviewer is Dr Judith Bishop, an Australian poet and lyricist whose words appear in two of the works discussed: ‘14 Weeks’ (from Interval (UQP, 2018) and ‘The Indifferent’ (from Event (Salt Publishing UK, 2007)). The interview was recorded at the University of Glasgow on 29 May 2023 and edited for clarity, length and concision. It was recorded a day after the world premiere of Jane Stanley's 14 Weeks at the Glasgow School of Art Choir Composeher concert in City Halls, Glasgow. In response to a recent survey which revealed huge gender inequalities in the granting of music commissions, Composeher had commissioned seven female composers to write choral works of around ten minutes, of which 14 Weeks was one. The interview ranges widely, from the composer's textural style to her creative process, and touches on her forthcoming composer portrait album, to be released by Delphian Records in 2024.

This article examines the relationship between notation and improvisation and the ways in which notational representation and prescription are extended by para-notation in the work and practice of the improvisers Sarah Brand and Moss Freed and in the work of ethnomusicologist Floris Schuiling, in particular through his research into the Dutch collective, the Instant Composers Pool (ICP). Sarah Brand analyses her own improvisation transcriptions using concepts derived from music therapy to help sharpen awareness for future improvisation. Moss Freed's Micromotives features his own variant of conduction, developed through reflexive and cyclic processes of notation, rehearsals and discussion. Floris Schuiling's ethnomusicological research into the ICP reveals how notation can be used to generate creative challenges, not only for the members of the collective but for musicians in general. A series of interviews reveals that these musicians use notation to render processes visible and to build and develop communities and cultures.

Beginning with Soliloquy I for solo violin in 1998, the author has been engaged in creating a series of highly virtuosic solo pieces for various instruments. Each piece presents a different character, yet all are framed by a single protagonist who narrates in different languages.

This article focuses particularly on analyses of Soliloquies II, VI, VII, VIII and IX, but also offers a discussion of the genesis of and processes involved in the whole cycle, which now embraces instruments from every section of the orchestra; the most recent, Soliloquy IX, for solo trumpet, was written in 2022. The suitability of the title Soliloquy is also considered; this article in turn could itself be considered a soliloquy.

In Homer's The Odyssey, Odysseus and his men are on their way home to Ithaca when they land on a remote island inhabited by lotus-eaters. The locals share their indolent-making lotus plants with the Greeks, such that the troops’ homeward journey is disrupted and they find themselves in a state of limbo. Identities, both individual and communal, become entangled and blurred. Beat Furrer takes these sorts of uncertainties of self as inspiration in his Lotófagos (2007) – that is, Lotus-eaters – scored for soprano and double bass, which sets José Ángel Valente's poem of the same name. Drawing on Gilles Deleuze's conception of bodies, this article argues that the identity of an elusive but persistent collective subject in Valente's text can be found within the difference between the two performers’ bodies in Furrer's setting. The pair's movements weave in and out of each other, moving through spectres of each other's material, fleetingly suggesting cohesion through tension before jettisoning this for what contextually appears as relief. As such, the series of surreptitious vignettes presents a ‘conatus’ of the piece defined by tension, emulation and transience; Furrer's Lotófagos creates space for Valente's mysterious subject to be presented as the immanence of forces between two performing bodies.

This article examines how practice-based researchers in a transcontinental intensive residency transformed their practice and developed their skills through composing digital scores. Four researchers from an Australian university undertook an intensive residency in Hamburg, focused on creating and performing new digital scores. An analytical study of this residency was conducted, centred around each researcher's connection to the materials, experiences of flow, changes in digital musicianship and transformations. The study revealed both challenges and illuminating experiences for the researchers. Each composition went through significant changes during, before and after the transcontinental project, resulting in changes to the digital scores, directions for interpretation and the researchers’ established artistic practices. Exposure to new environments and facilities allowed them to develop fresh approaches to collaboration and technology. Engaging with digital scores led to new skills being developed and new collaborative projects with each other and international musicians. The intensive and transcontinental nature of the project resulted in significant developments to the skills and approaches of the four researchers.

The title of Beat Furrer's nuun, for two pianos and chamber orchestra (1996), invites two principal readings. As a pun on the German ‘nun’, meaning ‘now’, it invokes a presentist mode of musical thinking, whereby each moment is heard to exist in a continuous state of development. It also invokes myth, as suggested by Wolfgang Fuhrmann, in its palindromic reflection of the name of the Breton goddess Nu, who, in medieval mysticism, ‘had the power to let time stand still’. In this article, I use Byron Almén's 2017 theory of musical narrative as the basis for a narrative analysis of nuun, aiming to reconcile these allusions with the aesthetics and formal processes of the piece, as well as Furrer's documented preoccupation with notions of storytelling in music. In doing so, I expand upon the hermeneutic readings of the piece proposed thus far, establish connections with textural archetypes in Furrer's oeuvre, both pioneered by and preceding nuun, and consider lines of dialogue with broader discourse on time in contemporary music.

This article considers the possibility that the emphasis we place on composers developing an artistic voice might be unhelpful for making good pieces. I look at what constitutes an artistic voice and consider pros and cons for having a voice. As an alternative I examine strengths and weaknesses for being a capricious composer, which I define as a willingness to explore different compositional avenues without concern for constructing a consistent body of work. My objective is not to discredit composers who have a strong voice, but rather to loosen the grip of the single-voiced model that dominates the value system of new music.

This article explores the times and datedness of new opera. When referring to an opera (20**) the bracketed number that follows the composition title usually refers to the date of composition or the first performance. When asked how many times an opera was played, its interpreters tend to refer to the number of performances, not the number of instances of rehearsal and individual practice. These times often remain unmentioned by performers, composers, production teams and institutions. But what do we make invisible when we exclude the main act of collective labour in the production of a new staged work? How do new operas structure their times and, in turn, how do these various times restructure new opera? I call for an inclusion of the rehearsal in the temporal narratives that new opera tells through its dates and times, emerging from collaborative processes in compound temporalities. With ethnographic glimpses into different operatic rehearsal studios, I examine the process that takes up most of new opera's time – rehearsal time – rather than audiences’ or performers’ lived experiences during the performance. This article maps the times inside rehearsal time – from daily schedules, call times and deep times of props to computational time and the timing of time itself – for better understanding new opera's ontology.

Gerald Barry's approach to composition has undergone a number of changes. Frequently these developments coincide with the composition of a large-scale opera. One of these points of transition in his output occurs in the period before he commenced work on The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant. Between 1999 and 2000 Barry composed three works – 1998, The Eternal Recurrence and Wiener Blut – in which he attempted to find a new compositional direction after a period in which canonic proliferation dominated his musical material. This article examines some of the main traits of these works, and Wiener Blut in particular, since it contains a greater variety of approaches than the other two compositions. The article also considers how Barry's shift in approach may have been linked to his decision to set Rainer Werner Fassbinder's play. Its quite plain, realistic prose was a contrast to the sort of text Barry had previously chosen to set, requiring a different musical response, and the article draws out some possible connections between Barry's three ‘pointillistic’ compositions and the opera.

The natural world is a frequent touchstone for the Swiss-born Austrian composer Beat Furrer. In the operatic work Violetter Schnee (2019), for instance, images of snow and coldness take on a central role. Other works, such as Wüstenbuch (2009) and the Spazio Immergente triptych (2015), refer more indirectly to notions of barren landscapes and ecological excess. At the basis of all these works are sentiments of slippage and loss, of far-reaching melancholia and an unrepairable detachment from reality. The composer's multi-layered use of repetition further underlines these sentiments and aids in the creation of constantly shifting sonic landscapes. This article argues that the recurrent use of nature imagery in Furrer's work signposts a latent ecological dimension in his oeuvre. In doing so, the article focuses on the slipperiness of musical repetition, and more particularly on the heavily destabilising power of the loop. Taking Violetter Schnee as the starting point for inquiry, and using Timothy Morton's philosophical project of ‘dark ecology’ as a heuristic framework, the article reads Furrer's recent work against the background of ecological critique.

In February 2011 the Brunel Sound Series hosted Phill Niblock at Brunel University London, a memorable visit expertly orchestrated by our late colleague Bob Gilmore.1 The occasion featured Phill's Disseminate and the premiere of his TWO LIPS aka Nameless, led by Bob. As an amateur clarinet player, in an ensemble made up of Brunel staff and students, I had the privilege of delving into the intricacies of Niblock's compositions. The event marked a significant chapter in our music department's history, with performances at Brunel University and, a day later, at London's trendiest club for hip contemporary music, Cafe OTO, in Dalston, leaving an indelible imprint on our students’ musical journey, and not just theirs.2

This article focuses on three of Beat Furrer's works described as opera or music theatre: Begehren (2001), FAMA (2005) and Wüstenbuch (2010). Each of these pieces sets texts from Roman, contemporary and historical authors in exploration of the liminal spaces between life and death, and the possible transitions between them. In Wüstenbuch one such text is included from the Papyrus Berlin 3024, known as the source of the Ancient Egyptian philosophical text ‘The Dispute between a Man and his Ba’, a reflection on the meaning and value of life and the transition between life and death. Furrer's compositional style does not offer a linear narrative on such questions but rather multiple perspectives and tableaux, each of which calls the others and itself into question. In order to explore this and understand what the meeting and interchange of the different texts and authors offers within the context of Furrer's music, I outline a method of ‘listening intertextually’ in order to hear the liminal spaces not only within but between these compositions. I consider the hybrid and hypertexts that arise within the music, and the ways that they can be therefore considered – as in the subtitle often given to FAMA – a ‘drama of listening’.