Emily Williams
Now: I am a (sort of)* freelance soundtrack composer living in London. I work part time in an office because it turns out that I don’t have the skillz to pay the billz, and am eternally searching for the perfect job that requires me to do no work, and yet is not boring. That fulfils me emotionally, but that I can leave in my desk drawer at 5pm and not have to think about until 9am the next day. And where my colleagues do not frown upon me for trawling MySpace all day. I refuse to accept the possibility that I am being difficult.
My interest in documentation has so far sprung from an interest in oral history. The idea of trying to document or authentically represent life fascinates me. The notion of “truth”, memory (and the fallibility of such), interpretation and the conveyance of emotion over narrative are themes that I often find springing up in my work. I spend much of my time trying to interweave spoken word with music. I want to make them one and the same. So that the boundary between abstract sounds and speech no longer exists. I try to aim for musical breathing.
I can’t wait to start the workshops.
Then: I studied a degree in Multimedia and Sonic Arts at UCLAN in Preston, during which time I made some films, and recorded some music, recorded some music for some films and got involved (as a musician) with the work of (Dr) Paul Stapleton. I was initially sceptical, but soon realised that Paul had something pretty special going on, and am forever glad that I didn’t drop out in the early stages when I didn’t get it. I learnt methods of improvising and interacting with other musicians that felt new and exciting. My idea of what music was, and is, was stretched and re-moulded, and stripped of the conventions and structures that I was familiar with, became something more than a group of instrumentalists experimenting with outlandish instruments.
One of the highlights of this time was during composition e when, during a performance at the Preston Guildhall, two elderly women got up and shuffled out. It reminded me of the account of the first performance of Ubu Roi. There was no riot, although they looked a bit dodgy.
Always: I love sound. I struggle for words when speaking.
* “sort of” because I spend more time pottering around the house than being gainfully, musically employed.
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March 15th, 2007 at 8:43 pm
Hey there
I’m also interested in documentation because of oral history.
The trad song community sometimes functions like a huge, slow database. I ask someone about a song in a pub, and four months later someone else comes up to me at a folk festival and answers my question. It doesn’t matter if the question is answered ‘correctly’ - what people believe is important - whether or not it fits what history books say.
I’m interested in what you mean by:
please elaborate.
Cheers, big ears!
March 15th, 2007 at 10:33 pm
word.
I guess it’s to do with using the quality of the voice to connect with the listener, rather than relying solely upon the content of their words. When I use passages of spoken word, i’ll often edit out some of the speech that might illustrate more clearly the incident being spoken about, in favour of sections that, though possibly more obtuse, I feel have a certain intonation, or inflection that reveals more openly the speaker’s feelings on the subject. It’s an approach that I probably stole after one too many Tarkovskys. I rarely feel that I understand the details of a Tarkovsky film, but I never fail to come away with an overwhelming sense of emotion, and of empathy for the protagonists.
emx