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Nterview NO With Ierre Enry
Nterview NO With Ierre Enry
This interview and text are by Ios Smolders, and originally appeared in issue 44 of
Vital magazine, in 1995. This version has been slightly edited by Brian Duguid;
some quotes by Ios, Henry and Michel Chion have been altered to make them read
better in English.
For years the list of people who I wanted to interview was headed by
Pierre Henry. Together with Pierre Schaeffer, Henry was one of the
founding fathers of musique concrète. He was especially interesting to me
because after an initial close relationship with the "official teachings" of
musique concrète Henry chose his own path. Having left the Groupe de
Recherches Musicales (G.R.M.), Henry successfully set up his own studio
and pursued his own career. His latest release is L'Homme a le Camera,
based on the film by Dziga Vertov with the same title. For this interview
the questions were faxed to M. Henry. For his answers he set up a little sketch, his assistant
assuming the role of interviewer. This fake interview was recorded and the tape returned.
Henry loved the theatrical presentation of music, admiring Wagner for example. He also became an
ardent admirer of the ballet of Maurice Bejart. With Bejart's group Henry travelled the world as
sound engineer. He also composed many works for ballet. La Messe Pour Le Temps Present became
a very popular piece of music that was scored for ballet. He expressed this fondness for dramatic
theatre in compositions, staged in large halls, that had the atmosphere of (pagan?) masses, lasting
at least three hours without a break.
In the 60s you worked with the rock group Spooky Tooth on Ceremony. Why was that?
The reason for this was much more commercial than artistic. The great success of La
Messe Pour Le Temps Present and Les Jerks Electroniques with Michel Colombier
gave my editor at Philips the idea that I should work together with an English group
to make a thematic album, based on the idea of the Mass. When this started, I didn't
know these people at all, and I accepted for a number of reasons which would not
interest me now, but to me this enterprise was totally without any result for years. I
am planning a new work with a rock group, but I can't say anything about that now.
CONTEXT
Henry was almost the opposite of Pierre Schaeffer, the godfather of musique concrète. Schaeffer
was a thinker, a theoretician, and not a musician. Schaeffer was interested in concrete sounds from a
theoretical point of view. Henry on the other hand was a trained composer, and most of all
audacious, ready to set about things. Concrete sounds were interesting to him as a means for
composing music. The two Frenchmen had in common their curiosity and a maniacal search for
order. But whereas Schaeffer got stuck in ordering his thoughts about sound and instrumentation, in
search for a totally experience of music, Henry in 1958 left the Paris institute to set up his private
studio, where he could work with his sounds without being bothered by bureaucratic rules and
regulations.
HISTORY
Pierre Henry was born in Paris in 1927. He never went to school; his teachers came to his house.
Being of feeble health he had to do gymnastic excercises and perhaps that is the reason that he
developed a strong feeling for rhythm. In 1944 he studied at the conservatory; piano and percussion
with Passeronne, composition with Nadia Boulanger and harmony with Olivier Messiaen. Henry is
an ardent film lover and visits the cinema two or three times a week. "Le Ballet Mecanique" by
Fernand Leger is a great inspiration because of the direct link between sound and vision. In 1949 he
received a commission to write music for a television documentary called "Seeing the Invisible".
He then started working with the 'disque souple', the writable record. The tape recorder was not yet
available in a practical model. He by then had already made acquaintance with Pierre Schaeffer and
with the music of Luigi Russolo, John Cage, Walter Ruttmann etc. When Schaeffer asked Henry,
because of his skills as a percussionist and at the piano, to assist him with the Symphonie pour un
Homme Seul in 1950, the career as a composer of musique concrète or, better, electroacoustic music
has taken a lift-off.
The early electroacoustic compositions, dating from 1950, show Henry dabbling about with sounds
recorded with the disque souple recorder, much in the same vein as Schaeffer. The structure,
however, is much more complicated. Whereas Schaeffer keeps to simple classical and rhythmical
structures, Henry shows much more insight into complex composition.
In 1964 Henry produced his Jerks Electronique with a 'song' called Psyche Rock under the
pseudonym Yper Sound. It sold some 150,000 copies. It made Henry instantly famous, not only
with connoisseurs of avant garde art but also with the man in the street. A few years ago its echo
was to be heard in the background of a house music record. Anyway, it enabled Henry to make a
good deal with the Philips label. Although always following his own path, Henry has never been a
RECORDINGS
Henry's works have in the past been released on vinyl by Philips, all of which have been long
deleted. Much to my regret because what I did know of his work I have been able to purchase at
fleamarkets. But sound quality was poor of course. Philips only rereleased the Variations pour Une
Porte et Un Soupir on CD a couple of years ago. Now French label Mantra has rereleased a series
of works by Henry. I was amazed to see this because the Mantra catalogue for the most part features
New Age, Krautrock and hippy music. Henry however doesn't seem to be worried by this marketing
anomaly. So why should we? The quality of the releases is excellent.
L'Homme A La Camera
Based on the film by Dziga Vertov. Here again Henry's love for the filmic genre is shown. Actually
this work should not be listened to without seeing the images. The titles give a clue about the
scenery but that's hardly enough. Indeed, we can hear Henry go back to what he calls the pure
composition that he favoured in his early works. In this soundtrack the large and dramatic
movements are absent. The music is as machine-like as the film is. It tries to abstract the concrete.
This interview was made possible thanks to Jerome Noetinger of Metamkine. For
those who would like to read more on the life of Pierre Henry, Michel Chion wrote a
biography in 1980, published by Fayard in Paris, and available from Metamkine, 13
rue de la Drague, 38600 Fontaine, France.
As you could tell by the name, music concrete is a French concoction- one of its
pioneers is composer Pierre Henry. Along with Pierre Schaeffer, Henry took sounds and
manipulated, re-arranged and recontextualized them. In one brilliant piece, Henry took a
squeaky door and a person sighing and turned these into saxophones, bells, laughter,
gongs, wind gushes and other unidentifiable noises. After creating his early
revolutionary work with Shaeffer in a state sponsored studio, Henry went to work on his
own studio in the late '50's, further exploring this medium, which continues even now.
Today, Henry's work with sound manipulation is what we usually think of as sampling.
His works have included the very moving "Voile d'Orphee" (1953) (where sound
sources become meditative orchestras and choirs), the above mentioned "Variations
pour une Porte et un Soupir" (1963), "Le Voyage" (1961-63, based on the Tibetan Book
of the Dead) and more recently "A La Recherche..." (a radio play based on a Proust
work) and "Le Livre des Morts Egyptien" (1990). His work has also included assorted
collaborations with poets, dancers, film makers and rock bands (Ceremony with Spooky
Tooth, 1968), not to mention his foray into popular music with Yper Sound ("Psyche
Rock", 1964).
Iara Lee conducted this interview for her film Modulations in September 1997 at
Henry's home/studio in Paris.
Concrete music is not a music of today nor of yesterday. It comes from a long
way off. Many composers, artists, writers, painters imagined that one day
music would transform itself into a vast opera of new sounds, unprecedented
sounds, sounds that have never been heard of.
Because concrete music comes from nothing it has a high range of possibilities.
It's a spontaneous creation and at the same time it doesn't play, therefore it
keeps on being. Fortunately recording still exists. Now it's through digital
recording, before it was on a tape recorder and before that on a soft record.
Concrete music was born in Pierre Schaeffer's studio. Pierre Schaeffer had the
idea to produce sounds by means of different tools, by splitting the attack of a
sound, prolonging the sound by reverberation, repetition, a sort of alchemy that
doesn't exist in orchestral music.
There weren't many reactions because it simply didn't exist. When we started it
in 1948, 50 years ago, there weren't any researchers or inventors. We were
isolated. Many instruments could be considered electric. There were
sophisticated organs. Electricity was fashionable. The introduction of electric
guitars and other electronic instruments was certainly interesting for us. It
encouraged us to use high-speakers in order to create other sounds that came
from nowhere. Thus concrete music is a music that was invented based on
nothing. It's a dust of sound, it's a coma of sound, it's almost nothing. In a piece
entitled "Spiral," the sound came from some sort of amplified respiration that
repeated itself endlessly, this continuity was of a very interesting choice in the
sense that one could see that it could be performed and developed with the
wrist and with fingers. This music cannot be played with instruments but with
electronic tools.
Q: Did you consider this music to be a stance against any particular school of
musical thought that came before it?
There weren't any reactions against any school. We came from a musical cell.
Before, I was a normal music composer. I wrote for instruments. I studied at
the academy of music with Olivier Messiaen. I played percussion. The classical
approach to music led me to connect this new music to tradition. So there
The idea was to find a new form of music, a new writing style instead of just
imitating and being stuck in a trend. We essentially wanted to bring out a new
music. It had nothing to do with the other kind of music. It was meant to be a
revolution in connection with the state of being a musician, to the musician's
function and to listening. We are different from other musicians but we are not
opposed to any music.
Henri Michaux had lent me a record of Japanese music, sacred music and I
started doing something with it. It was an interesting way to begin, more
interesting than a flute. It had a different blow that we could play off. We could
make variations out of it. Variation is the principle of concrete music. A cell
becomes another and then there are combinations, associations, and many
possibilities of inter-mixing, of polyphony. Current music is extremely
polyphonic. It's like a grand orchestra but it's done track by track.
Q: How did the sounds that you create literally come about?
It was a day by day, in the 50s an ongoing invention, but it was also a search
for brainwaves. This music was still not codified, standardized equipment such
as the synthetics, before synthesizers.
All current processes were discovered at that time. The anarchy was to search
for these processes but it wasn't a revolution. A composer is inevitably
revolutionary. But it's not necessarily revolutionary in his writing, in the way
he composes. He is a revolutionary in the mind meaning he has his own
esthetic. Beethoven was a revolutionary compared to those that preceded him.
I wrote about destroying music in order to alter little by little the listening of
music. But contrary to groups of painters or writers, the musician is like a
monk. He has to stay in his studio and work everyday by constantly trying out,
listening, starting all over a piece. Musicians don't have time to be
revolutionary.
Concrete music leads to authenticity more than the usual kind of music. It's like
a photographer who makes try outs, does Polaroid, spotting. Music proceeds
from photography, cinema. We set up planes, cut out the editing but also the
grain of sound like the grain of photography.
We've been recently talking a lot about techno music, in reference to the mass
of the present that sort of initiated not so much rhythmic music than music of
the rhythm. It's a music that must be drawn from technique and be connected to
what I'm trying to do that is inspiration, to the body, some sort of cerebral
trans., though I think it's unfortunate that it is for the moment too much
connected to the place it is listened to, to high volume listening where bass is
powerful. It's a music far too much connected to physiological reactions and
not enough to mental reaction. It has no sensitivity, it's not surprising enough
and it lacks poetry. I feel music should keep its share of poetry.
I don't think music shouldn't have a soul. Music should consider the past as
much as the future. And there are still many things to discover in the future. So
we should begin illustrating this future with futurist projections such as the
apocalypse, by emphasizing changes, and by pointing out the differences in
each centuries, and that there is an evolution. A technical music is of no interest
for me.
Q: Does it bother you to use digital equipment for your work nowadays?
No, it doesn't disturb me. It helps me keep and preserve the sound. Concrete
music was precarious, very difficult because sounds were almost immediately
damaged.
There are many things we can do with digital sound such as uncovering the
original sound. All sounds become original sounds, the sound of the beginning.
That's interesting but there is a betrayal in the sense that digital sound is not as
good as analogical sound. It has less strength, less impact, less presence.
Therefore it's necessary to mix analog, that is, old equipment with new
equipment. We can't get rid of old equipment. We still need to have the future
connected to the past. And that's what life is, this mixture slightly archeological
of the laws of the past with the foresight of the future.
I did that in the '50's while I was working with records and making
improvisations. But I used tape recorders. I did concerts where I would
improvise and perform using artificial waves. I had transmitters set on my skull
so that we could hear what came directly out of my skull. Instinct served
music. The music was intuitive, instinctive.
We need to catch it. But that which is intuitive, instinctive, imaginary comes
also from fate because fate is nature. It's always the same. There's thought and
fate, the control of fate by thought, and the simulation of thought by
fate.
I can't really say that I felt close to Italian futurists. I thought of them as fascists
and not as artists. Of course it was glorifying for them to say we could make
noise, but there always has been noise, even classical composers would add a
cannon shot in their work. Noise becomes a musical note when altered.
Real noise is very interesting. A drama should be told with noise, and then it
can be broadcast. I enjoy noise in film, I dislike music in film. I like to
conceive a score like a film, with noises, voices.
We were isolated. There was the bet. There was John Cage whom I didn't
know. And Stockhausen was much younger. It all started distinctively and then
similarities were discovered. I've also performed prepared piano different from
John Cage's performance. Stockhausen's research was somehow slightly
similar to mine. And then there was the splitting. There was a need for new
music. New music meant new sounds, new ears.
And it's easy now for youngsters. They can get for only a few thousand francs,
a box, an amp, something that makes sounds. There is no longer a formal
sensitivity, meaning that music comes out. I prefer music that stays inside of
us, that allows us to dream, to imagine and even perhaps to love. The music I'm
referring to is the one of communication. It's a language more than an art. Now
it's no longer a language. It's some sort of tam-tam constantly present. I'm not
convinced by current music, the way it is done. But there are some
possibilities. It's form is similar to the one of beginning of music in the Middle
Age in France where it was not only just a form but it was also very boring. I
don't particularly like cave music. I prefer vocal music starting with Bel canto
and then with Melesande and Pelleas. Music of yesterday was linear and white.
When Renoir spoke of white he meant with no colors. And music of today has
no colors. That's why I try to add a little spatial effect and colors in my music.
It was an option because sound existed with length. With length on a record or
a soundtrack, we couldn't always cut off the attack but we could place it at the
end or reverse part of the sound. Cutting off the attack... well many film
makers have done it way before us. Optical tools allow us to cut off the attack
of sounds. Many film effect were done that way. It's not an invention. Invention
is recording a sound and playing with it. That's invention. Cutting off the attack
is part of the 1001 possibilities of manipulation.
That's a harmonic question. It's a question of thickness of sound. It's not very
interesting. At the beginning Pierre Schaeffer cut off the attack of the piano and
it gave sound. What's important is to have many possibilities of manipulation
in order to give substance to the game, the game of sounds.
Sounds must play for we don't play with instruments, we play with soundtrack,
with editing, filtering, reverberation. These games must use all kind of
possibilities. It's about transformation, the magic of transformation of sounds is
important. I've always thought of music as a way to let things come out. Many
sounds, and also many ideas. It's an animation, an animation of sound talk.
Q: Do you find that your work with Sheaffer has been something of an
exploration?