EIF: Dame Evelyn Glennie in Conversation at the Hub

The Hub - 18/08/23 

This Festival event was predominantly an interview with the acclaimed Scottish musician, who became the world’s first solo percussionist.  

Throughout the interview, conducted by Kate Molleson, Glennie discussed her musical journey and the “challenges and rewards” of her career, alongside the importance of listening, a topic she has been passionate about for many years. 

Musically gifted from a young age, Glennie became proficient on the piano and clarinet. By the age of twelve she had lost all her hearing, but her passion for music remained and she took up percussion. Determined it was her calling, at sixteen, she applied to study percussion at The Royal Academy of Music. Despite showcasing impressive performance and theory, she was rejected on account of her disability.  Unrelenting, she successfully appealed the decision and brought about a change in legislation, setting a ground-breaking precedent. Now, no one can be discriminated against when applying to musical institutions on account of any disability, provided their musical ability is up to standard.    

I myself am visually impaired and passed my grade eight voice exam with distinction. Instead of sight-singing, I was tested on the recall of complex musical phrases. Perhaps it was Glennie’s campaigning that made that adjustment possible.   

Throughout the interview, Glennie was calm and composed, whilst extremely confident and articulate. At times however, she would embellish a point for a little too long for my taste.   

One interesting topic was that music does not have to equal sound itself. At one point, she walked to the front of the stage, holding the bow of an instrument poised to play, but without striking a note. The suspense in the room was palpable. She said this, too, was music - we were all here at this unique point in time and space…. Whilst hearing nothing, we still experience something; we are still listening.  It reminded me of ‘4’33’, by John Cage. He and Glennie share a fascination for the sounds, or lack thereof, in everyday life and the concept that there is no such thing as complete silence. ‘4’33’, having not a single note on the score, makes each live rendition of it unique.  

The venue’s oval domed ceiling provided beautiful acoustics for various recordings of Glennie’s collaborations with other musicians, my favourite being ‘A Little Prayer’ featuring Fred Frith. The calming patterns on the Marimba with his soaring solo guitar were sublime and meditative. Less calming was ‘Prím’, by Áskell Másson, the first piece ever written for solo snare drum, which Glennie played to open the show. I appreciated its ardent 32nd note pattern along with more separated, harder hits. Glennie played with gravitas, as she commanded the instrument. I couldn’t wholeheartedly say I enjoyed this performance though, simply because the louder hits were played with such velocity as to make them unbearably loud; they triggered a headache and earache that has lasted two days. I don’t blame Glennie, but I think someone should have sound-checked and perhaps advised her to play softer in that venue. This shock to the system left me unable to fully relax into the rest of the show. 

Though I left with my ears still ringing, I also left with food for thought. Sometimes as music-makers, we become so fixated on perfectionism that we forget to zoom out and truly listen.  

Cover photo: Philip Rathmer