If you ask who Martin Green is, you would probably get the answer that he is a Scottish folk musician, who mainly plays the accordion, but also electronics. He is part of Lau, a trio that is one of the most important representatives of British folk music and In parallel, he has cultivated a very interesting solo career.
There is nothing wrong with this definition, as long as we understand the meaning of the word folk, or rather what it means today to ‘make’ folk music. The topic has already been discussed on the blog here, as well as Lau and briefly Green himself.
While Lau’s albums are still very faithful to the British folk canon and seek a contemporary approach to the genre, Green’s solo work moves the field of research even further, to the boundaries of what folk music means.
The first album, 2009’s “First Sighting”, was born as the recording output of “Martin Green Machine” a big-band ensemble assembled for the 2006 Celtic Connection festival that has since then become an inexorable live machine. The Machine is a sort of relentless blender that mixes the most disparate styles, often intertwining them even within the same track. Avant-garde, electronic, folk jazz, funk, rock, wind sections ranging from classical to big band jazz, passing through New Orleans marching bands, vocals ranging from singing to spoken word to hints of rap and autotune treatments; in short, a work which, although fragmentary, in some ways stands as a manifesto for the author’s idea of music without boundaries.
The following project was also commissioned, this time by Leeds Opera North for a theatre piece. “Crows’ Bones”, the name of the work, inaugurates the series of interdisciplinary works that will characterise Green’s solo work from then on. The album focuses on illustrated ghost stories, alternating between traditional and themed original pieces. For the occasion, Green recruited his wife Inge Thompson, Becky Unthank on vocals and the Swedish Nyckelharpa player Niklas Roswall. Green adds to these folk musicians, the decisive contribution of Portishead’s Adrian Utley, who plays and co-produces the project, and who will become a regular partner for Green. The project’s atmospheres are gloomy and ghostly, as per its theme, and the music is characterised by a gothic folk flavour, emphasised by the low notes of the piano and the strident ones of the nyckelharpa, as well as widespread ambient noise. In spite of the more traditional façade, the disc presents at its best the ability to make current and modern atmospheres and themes linked to the “ghost stories” that are perhaps mostly considered as a prerogative of the past.
It is then the turn of “Flit”, a multimedia project that accompanies the album with a video shot with the stop motion technique used during live sets. The theme is that of migration and memory, or rather the ability not to disperse and pass on the human heritage of experiences between generations or people from different places. In addition to the return of Becky Unthank and Utley, the work sees the involvement of both folk and rock musicians such as Aidan Moffat and Dominic Aitchison. The album is built on a “foundation and a common language” of synth-based electronic textures, pulsating bass drones and glitch noise assembled by Green in Utley’s studio, which the Scottish musician himself calls “dark tonal jams”. These fragments are then given to the capable hands of a diverse cast of songwriters comprising Anais Mitchell, Karine Polwart, Aidan Moffat and Sandy Wright with the aim of turning them into songs relevant to the underlying theme. The result is an album that moves ‘inside’, as plumbeous as it is extraordinarily capable of conveying emotion and humanity.
The recordings, however, represent only a part of Green’s solo activity, which is developed through his production company Lepus Production and includes, among others, theatrical works such as “Into the cuckoo’s nest” and the musical installation “Aeons”, which earned the author an Ivor Novello Award.
Now we come to the real star of this article, “The Portal”, Green’s new opera. Exactly, opera is the correct term because, once again, we deal with a work that is much more than a normal album. The concept initially started as a theatrical performance to explore the history of dance, from sword dancing to clubs and raves, trying to find a common thread and a coherent evolution. Due to the pandemic that struck the planet, “The portal” was transformed from a theatrical performance into a radio podcast, in which Martin took on the role of narrator/host to tell a story of music, dance and love structured in 12 episodes.
Once the podcast was finished, “The Portal” was also released in the more classic 5-track album format. The result struck us deeply with its evocative blend of British tradition, atmospheric noise, electronics and ethnic instruments, so much so that it became a “top favourite” of this ominous 2020.
For the occasion, we got in touch with Martin Green in person to talk with him about the conception of The Portal, its realisation, the message it conveys and… many other things! Here is the pleasant chat!
Can you tell us how the idea for The Portal project came about? How did the change in the form of expression from the theatrical staging to the Podcast affect it? Do you consider this change to be definitive or are there plans to bring the work back to its original theatrical dimension? The Portal grew out of an audience experience, where we tried to help people find a trance state, using close proximity of people and animations projected on the floor, combined with James Holden’s track from the soundtrack (“The Portal”) this experience became had been very successful with test audiences and it became the “high point” of the live show. We made a story to lead audiences to this point. It was a surprisingly easy transition to audio, the show had so much sound design in it, and the script I wrote was far too long, so having 12 episodes to play it out in was kind of wonderful. I loved the audio medium straight away, and it doesn’t feel second best to me, it sits very happily as a podcast I think. I would love to see the live show come back to life, but I can’t imagine it will happen in the next year.
You are present in the Podcasts as protagonist in the role of narrator: where does the choice to get involved in the first person come from? Is there a precise meaning behind the fact of combining real and fictional characters? I played the role as “host” in the live show- I think that I have always enjoyed that role in shows as a musician and also in real life, having hosted lots of parties in my time. It was a choice to use me as narrator, partly to continue this host role, partly to make the fact and fiction more blurred, and partly because in the edit, we had so much control over re-ordering things as “MG” (The Narrator) can help move us through scenes quickly. MG is not quite me, he is all my super intense dark bits.
Let’s speak about the two protagonists: how were they born? Did you start from particular or archetypical characteristics that then became embodied in the two? Are they completely fictional or were you inspired by real people? Etterigde was inspired by folk music collectors in general, (but especially Cecil Sharp and I am also interested in Percy Grainger, though not a collector, some of Etteridge’s stranger behaviours are inspired by him) I’m fascinated by these people who were drawn to gather all this music. We have to be thankful for them, or so much would be lost (so much has been) but also aware that any collector or curator is a prism, a filter which takes the bits they like and leaves the bits they don’t
Then there is the question of memory and recordings: what gave rise to the idea of using the recordings and the passion for them as a tool through which the platonic relationship between the protagonists is expressed? Partly because I love recordings, this started with music, but I do genuinely find the concept magical, capturing time, and repeating it at will. I loved reading about Eno listening to tapes of environmental (non musical) sound until he could remember them like music. Of course, for a podcast, it is also a very convenient method of first hand communication between characters.
How did you choose the historical moments and in particular the dance music represented in the different moments and tracks of the opera? From a musical point of view, what did you start from to give a representation that was not just a static photograph? It started with a little bit of truth, morris dancing and raves/clubs. I have encountered both and they seem to symbolise different aspects of society, and I wondered if they really are so different (I decided I think they are) but I have a love for both, and the others sort of filled in the gaps, sword dancing and post-war swing and London Ska and the birth of the nightclub.
The collaborators you chose for the work give a very strong imprint to the different pieces: how did you choose them and how much were they involved in the realization of the tracks? Brighde Chaimbeul: I met just before we started developing the live show (2017) and I just thought she was both brilliant and interestingly hardcore, she has a kind of air of purity in her music but actually there are a load of influences from all over the world and the thinking is really very modern. This fitted with ideas I wanted to explore about false ideas of “authentic”. I feel strongly that there is no “pure” folk music just as there are no “pure” ethnic groups of people. Nor should there be, it is both impossible and undesirable. But yet people are drawn to these notions, so Brighde is interesting in that regard, a modern person with an old sound.
James Holden is a hero of mine, and I tried several times to write a kind of post-techno track for the Portal and I just don’t have that understanding. James was the most modest, brilliant collaborator, he made a perfect track for the show. The Qanun (played by Yasaman Najmeddin in “The Tup”) was not a desire for an arabic flavour really, but I had started that track with samples I made on an autoharp with some motors And I thought it would be great to get that sound but from someone who could really play (and she is AMAZING) lockdown meant everything was remotely recorded anyway, so in a way they may as well be in Iran. Radie Peat just has a voice I can believe someone could become obsessed with, Lankum and Lau are good friends and Radie was involved in “Into The cuckoo’s nest” project that sort of turned into “The Portal”.
Was the album of “The Portal” conceived to be listened to and absorbed in a complete way even only in its musical form, or is it to be considered inseparable from the rest of the work? It is very much designed to listen to on its own just as an album. We made the album first before we recorded the podcast, which was great because editing the actors to the music is much more enjoyable (for me anyway) than writing music to dialogue.
The connection between folk dance music and electronic dance music immediately seemed to us very intriguing. What do you think these musical phenomena have in common? Are they all musical forms that celebrate the sociality of men or, shifting the perspective, are they music that have in common the fact of drinking from the same source, that is Dionysian spirit present in men? Dionysus came up a bit while we were writing the script. Yeah I do think that to a certain extent, drinking and making merry is a constant desire, and certainly one I believe in. Yes I think it links e.g. Morris and Rave culture but there I feel the connections stop, at least with people doing them now. I think the impetus is different, they both carry quite extreme cultural baggage and although I am by no means the only person I know interested in both, I think as a society, we almost ignore the base instinct (I want to dance about with other people) because there are (still, thankfully) so many options for doing this, and instead we look at the social structure around these forms. So much is based on, “I think people like me do this…” or “I think people like me don’t do this..” I get the impression that the early days of rave (which I missed) felt for while, whilst it was finding its own identity, it’s own clothes in particular, like an unusual moment in youth culture where different sorts of people found themselves at the same events (i.e. not just punks in punk clubs, or rockers in rock clubs etc)
Do you agree that the best folk music is still modern today thanks to deep roots and a look, that is aware of the past and so that allows it to adapt to the present and to grasp the spirit of the times? Hmmm.. A bit like what I was saying about Brighde above, yeah, sort of, but to be honest the thing that I often find is the most moving aspect of the folk music I love is the conviction of the player. That can come from many places, but one is a belief in ownership of the medium and that is increased by feeling very connected to a tradition, through sense of place or a musical family etc. Take for example Cormac Begley the music seems so ingrained in him, yet the style is entirely unique. The sense of conviction is so strong, that unique personality has space to come through. Also people from musical families often start playing very young and that helps get very good.
As a folk musician, how do you think this genre should relate to the present and the future? Do you think that its future vitality will be linked to its ability to hybridize with other genres, maybe similar in terms of instances, objectives or sensitivity? Do you perceive in this process the risk of a possible loss of traditional folk identity? And finally, regardless of the form it takes, when in your opinion a music can be called “folk”? I think in relation to the last part of the question, “when can it be called folk” there is little point trying to control or being unhappy about its usage, look at R&B, imagine being Fats Domino and being upset that the same term is getting used for Beyonce, there’s just no point, so let Taylor Swift and Mumford and Sons and the Levellers and Bob Dylan all be folk if people want to call it that. In relation to a thriving future folk scene, that depends on the social scene much more than the professional scene, there are 2 fiddle teachers in the village I live in, teaching maybe 30 kids between them. That’s the future of the scene, amateurs playing together and continuing to enjoy the music. I think every now and then there is a modernisation that brings in more listeners and that helps, partly because some of them take it up and become players and singers.
Where does the broad, interdisciplinary and multimedia vision that characterises your solo works come from? Do you think the hybridisation between different media is necessary to express artistically the world we live in today? I don’t think it’s necessary, I mean Cormac playing the concertina is a whole piece of art, but I love it! I LOVE music of course I do, but the discovery that you can SAY things, tell stories, without having to be able to sing, that blew my mind when we did a show called “Crows’ Bones” with an opera company in 2012 and that bit of my mind never came back.
The other constant in your solo discography is the involvement of numerous musicians, often from different backgrounds. Is it correct to say that these participations respond to the desire to enrich sound through the synthesis of diversity? When you compose a piece do you already have in mind the people with whom you will make it? Speaking of collaborations, do you have any ideas and secret dreams for the future? I am very reactive, I get really excited by the talents of other people and mostly my job is working out how to stitch them together. I do write whole pieces of music, but it’s not my preference, so it comes in many ways, from the Portal for example:
“Angela” – I had Radie singing from a previous project we’d done, and in rehearsals we tried various ways of using a sample of her for “the song” that Etteridge falls in love with, nothing I had was quite mysterious enough, so I reversed one. That worked well, so I wrote the rest of that track by messing about on pianos and stuff around that sample. Then she learnt to sing it backwards, which was quite amazing and we re-recorded it. So Radie wasn’t there for the making of the music, but it really came from her, that was the inspiration.
“The Portal” – I’d made this “instrument” for the show, the dronicorn, and we’d found a couple fo trippy rhythms for it, but as I say above, I never managed to make it into a track, so I just sent my Ableton sessions to James Holden and he just remade stuff around our original loops.
So it often is built around the players and what they bring for sure
Talking about dream collaborations, theatre company Complicitè for sure (The Encounter, is the best show I think I’ve ever seen) and anything with massive 15 meter high puppets….
Talking about the future, do you already have in mind the next solo work and do you intend to keep the multimedia approach? Yes we are working on something now, a show with the totally brilliant animators who did the Flit show and a brass band score, it will be massive and fun and slightly gruelling for all concerned, yeah!
Finally, we would like to close with an unusual suggestion that is also a kind of proposal. I don’t know if it’s a similar interdisciplinary/multimedial vision of art or a wide vision of folk music beyond its form but thinking of you I thought about Richard Skelton. An artist we appreciate very much and of which we think his music is quintessentially folk in spirit. So have you ever thought of a more rarefied record that laps atmospheres dear to him? I LOVE what I know of his work, and he has cropped up in a number of ways in my musical life. I think there is this conviction I speak about above, that allows people to make sparse, airy music, and I have always found that hard to do. It’s not really that I love listening to dense music, I just find it hard to do. But thanks for the push, I might just go and try…
