Reykjavík Grapevine - 21.06.2019, Qupperneq 21

be carried by the winds, but move
through to the strings; the winds start
doing something else, and the strings
continue. When you start to know the
music, then you start to learn that
process—that something is being
passed to you. That creates a differ-
ent kind of perspective as you move
through a piece.”
“A musician can, of course, read the
notes on the paper and play their part,”
she continues, warming to the theme.
“But they might not realise at first
that their part is being passed to them
from another performer or group of
performers. It can speed things along
if I am there to point that out. There
are various degrees to why it’s interest-
ing to work with performers—they are,
of course, the experts on their instru-
ments, so I learn a lot from them too.
I can’t always be there in person when
my music is performed, but I try to go
as much as I can to the largest perfor-
mances.” She smiles. “It’s a luxury
problem.”
The composer
that you are
Anna’s rise to prominence has been
sure and steady. After attending music
school and studying for her bachelor's
degree in Reykjavík, she moved to San
Diego in 2006 to pursue a Masters and
doctorate at the University of Cali-
fornia. “It’s a very good department
for contemporary music, for many
reasons,” Anna explains. “But primar-
ily because everyone is keen to work
on contemporary music there, and
there’s a lot of openness to embrace
the personality of the composer, rather
than steering them into a certain chan-
nel. There are so many paths you can
take as a composer. And I really appre-
ciated that in San Diego you’re allowed
to become the composer that you are.”
As she finished her studies in
2011, Anna released her first portrait
album, entitled ‘Rhízōma,’ referring to
rhizomes, or exploratory roots. “I spent
a lot of time finding the right title for
that album,” she says. “As a composer,
when you release an album, the pieces
might have been composed over five
years. You’re not creating an album so
much as curating pieces into an album.
‘Rhízōma’ was my first portrait album,
and I wanted it to have references
to roots, and the way I think about
music—creating layers that grow in
and out of each other. And that’s how
we found this title.”
Work hard and
be sincere
‘Rhízōma’ had long been in develop-
ment, both musically, and in terms of
the release arrangements, financing
and planning. But the release would
prove to be a decision that would shape
Anna’s career. “I didn’t realise how
important it would be, at the time,”
she remembers. “When I was moving
to California I’d already decided I
would release it when I graduated. It
was a long-term goal, and it was very
expensive, so I had to save up for a long
time. I didn’t really have high hopes
for it. You never know what’s going to
happen. So it was a beautiful surprise
that people paid attention and were
encouraging. I found that people got to
know my music through that album.”
One of the two centrepieces of
the album is ‘Dreaming,’ a 17-minute
composition for orchestra that would
go on to win the prestigious Nordic
Music Council Prize in 2012. “That led
to the Deutsche Grammophon release,”
says Anna. “Colin Rae, who was distrib-
uting ‘Rhízōma,’ had said to me that he
would help make sure my music was
put out on a large label.” She stops, and
smiles, appreciative and mystified by
the path that led her to this moment.
“I strongly believe in working hard,
and being sincere in what you do,” she
continues. “Although this was noth-
ing you ever could have planned... it
worked out.”
Scary music
Talking amiably with Anna on a
summer’s day about the open hori-
zons of Borgarnes, the rich multi-
disciplinary arts culture of Reykjavík,
and her stints living in California and,
later, Australia and England, it’s easy
to forget about the seriousness and
weight of her music. Although her
catalogue of works is rich and diverse,
it’s also characterised by certain moods
that fly counter to her sunny disposi-
tion; particularly, recurring dark,
ominous, and even violent moods and
elements.
“You’re not the first person to say
this,” says Anna. “I’ve also had people
who know me describe this contrast
between my personality and my work.
Some people read my work as dark and
scary, but that’s not really how I think
about it.” She pauses, momentarily
reconsidering. “Actually, maybe I am
just making scary music. But I don’t
know where this darkness comes from.
I make it intuitively and naturally... but
certainly not intentionally.”
She peters out, staring into the
middle distance. “However, I do love
the lower registers and bass. Perhaps
that fundament that I give to that
register plays into this experience of
the music.”
I wonder out loud if her music gives
voice to aspects of herself or person-
ality that aren’t top-of-mind in day-
to-day life. “Certainly, doing music is
very therapeutic,” she smiles, “but I’m
never angry when I write, but I am
sometimes sad. Writing music is a very
emotional thing for me; I allow the
music to come into existence through
this human experience. Something I do
believe in is tension in music. It’s very
important in creating structures and
contrasts and how things flow from
one to the next. Maybe it’s this tension
that comes across as darkness.”
Balance with
the abstract
Whatever it is that makes Anna’s
music so captivating, she’s continu-
ing to thrive and develop, winning
the Martin Segall, Lincoln Center and
Kraviz Emerging Composer awards,
as well as prized commissions from
The New York Philharmonic Soci-
ety, The Gothenburg Symphony and
The Iceland Symphony Orchestra, to
name but three. She’s released three
more albums—’Aerial,’ ‘In The Light Of
Air,’ and ‘AEQUA’—and The Financial
Times recently described her as “the
most exciting force in Icelandic music
since Björk.” ‘Aion’ (2018) pushed the
envelope again with the inclusion of
choreography by Erna Ómarsdóttir
and the Icelandic Dance Company, and
‘Metacosmos’ (2017) will be performed
at the BBC Proms later this year at the
Royal Albert Hall.
For Anna Þorvaldsdóttir, it seems
the sky’s the limit. But what comes
across most of all is her deep love for
her calling. “I really believe in music
for music,” she says. “It’s difficult to
describe, but the way I have always
worked comes from the music listening
space—I feel a strong sense of connec-
tion between sounds and textures that
might not be considered harmonic or
traditionally musical, but I love work-
ing with sounds in a lyrical way, find-
ing the balance with the abstract.”
Once again, she’s describing her
ocean of sound. “It is really the way I
think about it, and feel it, and hear it,”
she finishes. “With all these elements
that are there, you might not notice all
of them—because they are there to be
part of a whole. You don’t pay attention
to each drop, but when they all come
together—it’s then they create the
ocean.”
21 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 10— 2019
“When you grow
up in a place where
you’re surrounded by
water and mountains,
this is what you feel
is normal. I feel that I
still carry that now—
these roots have
stayed with me.”