Sphinx

David Sawer Sphinx

Commissioned by the London Philharmonic Orchestra with support from the Nicholas Berwin Charitable Trust.

For British composer David Sawer, the concept of a work often begins with its name: ‘I usually have titles in my head before I start writing a note of music, and that gives me the overall character of the piece.’ The result is rarely narrative, however. In the case of Sphinx, Sawer was particularly drawn to a painting of the same name by the French avant-garde artist Francis Picabia. ‘He was going through a transparency period where he laid different images on top of one another, sometimes literally with transparent paper. I was intrigued by the idea of using this approach in music – of trying to layer different ideas so that you can almost see through the music – and how I might create that depth by layering different types of material over each other.’

This prompted Sawer to explore the idea of the mythical Sphinx in more detail, particularly in its Greek rather than Egyptian form: a human head, often female but sometimes male; the body of an animal – ‘usually a lion or something that could leap and jump’ – and the wings of a bird. These qualities suggested three corresponding elements in Sawer’s piece. ‘The head is a vertical, chordal idea, which can move left, right, up and down or remain stationary in the middle – a series of five movements. Then there’s something that runs, the four legs – a more rhythmic idea reflecting the pattern of the way the legs might move, and the rhythms that might be created between four pulses. Then the wings enable it to fly, moving up and down.’ Sawer used intervals that might evoke these gestures: the head is characterised by fourths and fifths and the running by major and minor thirds, with semitones for the wings. Different permutations of these elements are presented: one element might be more prominent, with the others receding, and then the emphasis shifts, ebbing and flowing. The result is ‘this constantly evolving, morphing thing – which was the piece I wanted to write.’

The different sections of the orchestra are at first heard ‘quite bluntly’; stark contrasts which then disintegrate, change, morph and mix together, shifting from blocks to blends of colour. The strings are sometimes split into distinct groupings, with a string quartet creating a chamber-like sonority in the midst of the fuller ensemble. As Sawer explains, ‘I respond to colour and timbre. I used to play the violin and played in amateur orchestras, so I have a sense of what that feels like; where sounds are coming from and might connect, from one side of the orchestra to the other. When I’m writing, I can imagine it happening live – but if it’s a concert piece it’s not accompanying any visual elements or action. The action is in the performance.’

In a similar vein, Sawer does not regard his music in prescriptive terms, but would rather invite audiences into the work, bringing their own individual interpretations to the experience: ‘Let yourself be drawn into it and go with it. There aren’t structural markers as such; it’s an amorphous piece of moving material. What should people listen out for? Whatever they hear.’

© Joanna Wyld, 2025