Creating a new listening experience for the playlist generation. Why not Joy Division alongside Buxtehude, Max Richter alongside Britten?

Like every arts organization, Orchestra of the Swan has been grappling with questions of audience engagement, diversity and the ever-changing world of new technologies. Ironically it was the forced hiatus of COVID-19 that provided the opportunity to really tease apart these burning issues and for The Swan, we made a virtue of our inherent versality by creating an album which broke the mould of our extensive back catalogue of recordings. Timelapse, which we released mid-lockdown in January 2020, seamlessly melded together disparate eras of music to create a compelling time-travelling playlist featuring music by Rameau and Radiohead, Schubert and The Smiths and Adès and Bowie.

It was conscious attempt to reach beyond our regular audience towards an entirely new listenership. Its overarching journey and clear sense of mood struck a chord with 4 million streaming listeners. The key to its appeal is the timeless quality of the material; in the context of this recording, you realise that a work composed in the 17th century by Couperin sounds as fresh and contemporary as a piece by Reich written in the 1980s. It’s neither cross-over, cross-genre, easy-listening – in fact all the genres are immaterial.

Autonomous technology and the rise of the algorithm is dictating the way we consume and listen to music. But is this as frightening as it appears?

Hot on its heels, we recorded our follow-up album Labyrinths in April while concert venues remained closed. Labyrinths has taken the mixtape concept further. For different configurations in the orchestra, I made arrangements of music by Joy Division, Pink Floyd’s Syd Barrett, Brian Eno and Yann Tiersen. Jazz pianist and harpsichordist David Gordon reimagined Buxtehude and folk singer Jim Moray brought a fresh take on Purcell’s icy “What power art thou?”, the freezing aria from King Arthur. These sit alongside Respighi’s The Dove from the Birds, Maxwell Davies’ Farewell to Stromness, Piazzolla’s Oblivion, jazz saxophonist Trish Clowes’ new work Bounce, Nico Muhly’s Dog and Frog and anonymous medieval work La Rotta.

It’s is an extraordinary collection of works connected by ideas of pilgrimage, contemplation, exploration and enlightenment. As with Timelapse, the joy is to be found in discovering the surprising and delightful connections between culturally disparate and musically contrasting time periods. Perhaps not every track will appeal to everyone, nonetheless it invites listeners to immerse themselves completely in a sonically rewarding and wholly unexpected musical experience.

This last year has been one in which we have all been confronted by the spectre of isolation and have certainly felt the need for face-to-face communication. Labyrinths have been an important part of humanity’s cultural landscape for thousands of years; from the Ancient Greek myth of Theseus and the Minotaur to the intriguing stories of Jorge Luis Borges and Umberto Eco. Our overwhelming desire to find patterns and ‘the hidden truth’ is perhaps nowhere more evident than in the subversive and complex vistas of music.

Technology has been instrumental in recognising and addressing the issues we have uncovered regarding diversity in the classical sector and indeed the various lockdowns during the pandemic have made us aware of how crucial technology is, not only in regard to communication and self-improvement but also as a way of shaping our brand. Social media has a vast appetite for instant content, and it is an arena where the short attention span is king (approximately 8 seconds per item). At first glance this seems counterintuitive to the long form nature of classical music but in terms of engaging that elusive new audience it is indispensable.

Autonomous technology and the rise of the algorithm is dictating the way we consume and listen to music. But is this as frightening as it appears? It’s worth remembering that the advent of new technologies has invariably been accompanied by a fear of dumbing down and a sneering attitude aimed at younger generations who take it on board without a second thought. The printing press, the novel, the steam engine, the wireless, newspapers and even education itself were all considered to be contributors to information overload and harmful and confusing to the psyche.

It’s important to remember that today’s media landscape is populated by consumers who are also curators and have the ability to specifically shape their own ‘on demand’ desires. To have even the smallest chance of connecting with this easily distracted audience requires an in-depth knowledge about how to present what you do effectively in bitesize, social media-friendly chunks. Just because the medium of classical music is antithetical to the way social media functions it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t use it to our advantage. All of this is simply about introducing new and interested consumers to our brand - something which most of us in the sector have, historically, not been good at doing. Sales of the physical Timelapse disc are pretty insignificant in comparison to the millions of streams.

There still seems to be a fear of crossing the line from ‘high’ to ‘low' culture but in reality it has been eroding for years and is currently at a gloriously fluid stage. Defining exactly what constitutes ‘high’ or ‘low’ culture has become increasingly difficult and perhaps to try and do so in 2021 is meaningless. These days there is no reason why they can’t co-exist creatively and even enjoy each other’s company.

Watch Labyrinths