Winston Chan( Coll:, 22-) cannot believe his ears
The Wykehamist
Kirby Prize
Winston Chan( Coll:, 22-) cannot believe his ears
At the heart of what some might call the best music department in the nation, lies the often-overlooked Kirby Prize. Indeed, what better measure of music-making triumph is there than the ability to conjure up a wholly original composition of one’ s own, then to convince a group of friends to workshop and rehearse said creation, and finally to perform to it to a packed hall of rapturous applause? The newly overhauled and now biennial competition has seen a noticeable upgrade in quality since its last outing, with various familiar faces now considerably older and wiser, whipped into shape by the ever-valiant EIE. Chaired by adjudicator Dr Luke Lewis of New College, Oxford, the evening was sure to be one of the music department’ s finest.
Rather surprisingly, the instrumental, electronic and vocal categories, as well as the Junior and Senior divisions were all merged and interspersed into a continuous programme, creating what was, to say the least, an extremely diverse evening of music. Jayden Lai’ s( E, 24-) melancholic spin on Pachelbel’ s famous Canon in D, presented on two pianos with an incredible amount of Baroque ornaments, was followed immediately by Rory Dobson’ s( Coll:, 22-) Soundtrap creation Ticket Printing, an ingenious and satisfying EDM amalgamation of both electronic and real-life samples, launching us from the bustle of Farnborough Station to a distorted realm of myriad effects. Indeed, only two out of the ten entries were written for solo piano: even so, the delicate neoclassicism of Laurie Sawbridge’ s( H, 22-) Interlude, a harmonically ambitious gavotte much resembling that of Grieg’ s Holberg Suite, contrasted greatly with Asher Li’ s( E, 21-) characteristically conservative but confident style, presented in an angsty lament titled Minus One. Perhaps the latter’ s debut on Spotify more than a year ago has desensitised me to its sensibilities, though, if anything, that ought to say more about the composer’ s memorability than my stubbornness.
Of course, one must also recognise the orchestral instrumentalists, especially in the Lower School— it is a highly impressive feat for anyone to master the manipulation of an instrument’ s technical limitations, making the most of timbral subtleties and extended techniques not just for the sake of it, but for sophisticated and characterful effect. For instance, Edwin Humphrey’ s( Coll:, 24-) Prelude for solo cello— incredibly subtitled‘ Broken reverie of the soul of the smoking dawn’— gave the instrument a voice and a soul in a mournful soliloquy. Promising a Messaien-esque portrayal of‘ stars turning into gold, others melting into night’, Edwin traversed sweeping chords and tortured ad libitum passages alike, all whilst adhering to distinctly Baroque influences.
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