All Music

100 Seconds from Midnight (2020) is percussion quartet commissioned by Architek Percussion and dedicated to its members at the time; Ben Reimer, Noam Bierstone, Ben Duinker, and Alessandro Valiante.

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Comprised of three movements;

• Genesis

• Anthems

• 100 Seconds from Midnight

the work describes a journey through time, mirroring the evolution and looming downfall of our civilisation.

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Beginning with Genesis, and providing a musical exploration of the birth and development of our world, this movement lays the groundwork, painting a picture of the world's creation through percussion effects.

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In the second movement, Anthems, the power of martial rhythmic patterns (created with transformed audio excerpts from the Russian, American, and Chinese national anthems) evoke an ironic sense of power, and glory. The triumphant echoes are imbued with a subtle sense of foreboding. 

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The final movement, 100 Seconds from Midnight, symbolises a turning point, embodying the urgency and looming dread encapsulated in the metaphor of the Doomsday Clock, the symbol of global catastrophe. The rapid, propulsive grooves and the haunting resonance of the vibraphone evoke the sense of being on a runaway train, the path humanity currently treads. It offers a reflection on the societal and environmental challenges we face, delivering a thought-provoking message about our collective responsibility. The piece requires a diverse range of percussive instruments, including the drum set, snare drum, Scots snare, dohl, bass drum, pulli, triangle, metal objects, finger cymbal, vibraphone, and marimba. Each player's role is integral to the piece, creating a polyrhythmic weave that resonates with the urgency and complexity of the themes conveyed in the music. 

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Underscoring the impending 'civilizational crisis' referenced by Noam Chomsky and the vital need for change, the percussive elements and emotive rhythmic patterns encourage us to consider the kind of world we want to live in.

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In its entirety, 100 Seconds from Midnight offers an intense exploration of humanity's current journey.

100 Years (2014) is a commemorative video co-composed with longtime friend and collaborator Serj Tankian. The work is a somber commemoration to honor the Armenian, Greek and Assyrian victims of the first genocide of the 20th century. It is dedicated to all those fighting for truth, recognition and justice for this and all subsequent genocides

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Please note that the video contains graphic and sensitive archival images.

OurSpace, the interactive visitor experience at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, received international recognition, winning the UNESCO World Summit Award for eContent and Creativity, and featured cutting-edge technology and user-generated content alongside the museum's exhibits. I was commissioned by Gibson Group to develop an algorithm that created dynamically shifting musical textures in response to user engagement with an interactive wall.  I composed three unique musical landscapes for the project - Ambient, Ethnic, and Techno - and invited other New Zealand composers to contribute their own compositions. Our collaborative efforts resulted in nearly a dozen distinct musical environments that ebbed and flowed based on user interaction.

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4BY4 brings together four multi-percussionists, playing different pods of instruments, into one tribally energetic jam session that pushes the players to the edge of musical and physical possibility. Everybody has a kick drum, which solidifies the underlying pulse and cements the parts of each player as they're playing their own polyrhythmic grooves.

This musical supplication is inspired partly by the playing of world-renowned duduk player Djivan Gasparyan. It is a plea for a balm, a cool wind, to ease anguish and torment.

A Cool Wind (2007) is a stirring string quartet originally composed in 2007 and later revised in 2013. Commissioned by Chamber Music New Zealand, A Cool Wind (2007) captures the essence of the duduk's voice through the string quartet, enveloping listeners in a world of overlapping inner parts, where melodies and harmonies intertwine, mirroring the intricate complexities of human emotion. The title itself refers to the supplicative nature of the composition, as the music unfolds like a heartfelt prayer seeking a balm, a soothing and cooling wind to alleviate suffering. When collaborating with master folk musicians in Greece, I am deeply moved by their dedication to emulating the human voice in their performances. Regardless of the instrument they played, these musicians seek to eliminate the barriers between impulse and sound, striving to express themselves spontaneously and authentically. It is this concept that lies at the heart of A Cool Wind. The performance of A Cool Wind by the esteemed Takacs Quartet at its world premiere was a momentous occasion that showcased the profound beauty and power of the composition. The quartet's masterful interpretation captured the essence of the piece, bringing to life its emotional depth and sensitivity. Through the delicate interplay of the four string instruments, the Takacs Quartet breathed life into every note, allowing the music to resonate with the audience's souls. The strings sang with a profound yearning, echoing the emotional contours of the human voice and invoking a sense of empathy and catharsis. "A Cool Wind" is a testament to Psathas' ability to create music that transcends boundaries and touches the very core of human experience. It serves as a reminder of the transformative power of art, offering solace, healing, and a respite from the trials of life. By immersing oneself in the world of A Cool Wind, listeners embark on a profound journey of introspection and emotional connection

Abhisheka is a profoundly introspective and captivating string quartet that has since been adapted for string orchestra, viola quartet, and wind ensemble. Standing apart from my typically energetic and densely notated works, it invites listeners into a slower-paced and more contemplative musical landscape. The inspiration came from reading a book by the Buddhist guru Chögyam Trungpa. The Sanskrit word "abhisheka" translates to "anointment" or "to sprinkle or pour." In the context of this composition, it represents a moment of initiation or a spiritual awakening, where one is open and willing to give up busyness and overcrowding, allowing space and peace to permeate. The work explores the concept of space in music, infusing the composition with moments of silence and slower passages that provide an opportunity for reflection and inner contemplation. The use of quarter-tones adds an intriguing and unusual sound to the piece, further enhancing its emotive impact. Within the composition, each instrument in the string quartet has its moment to shine, with extended solo passages for the violins, cello, and viola. Against a backdrop of hushed chords, the melodies intertwine and unfold, creating a sense of depth and serenity. The composition builds towards an energetic climax, unexpected in its intensity, before the viola takes its turn, further enriching the sonic tapestry. The piece resonates with both beauty and profound meaning. The New Zealand String Quartet gave a striking first performance in Nelson, New Zealand, on August 23, 1998. Their interpretation captures the essence of its introspective nature, drawing listeners into a world of quiet contemplation and musical eloquence. Through the interplay of the four string instruments, the New Zealand String Quartet invites audiences to embark on a transformative journey, exploring the nuances of Abhisheka and experiencing the power of music to convey profound emotions and spiritual depth. Its unique blend of tranquility and complexity offers a rare opportunity for introspection and self-discovery, reminding us of the transformative power of art and the beauty that lies within silence and space.

Abhisheka (1996) is an introspective string quartet that has since been adapted for string orchestra, viola quartet, and wind ensemble. Standing apart from my typically energetic and densely notated works, it invites listeners into a slower-paced and more contemplative musical landscape. The inspiration came from reading a book by the Buddhist guru Chögyam Trungpa. The Sanskrit word "abhisheka" translates to "anointment" or "to sprinkle or pour." In the context of this composition, it represents a moment of initiation or a spiritual awakening, where one is open and willing to give up busyness and overcrowding, allowing space and peace to permeate. The work explores the concept of space in music, infusing the composition with moments of silence and slower passages that provide an opportunity for reflection and inner contemplation. The use of quarter-tones adds an intriguing and unusual sound to the piece, further enhancing its emotive impact. Within the composition, each instrument in the string quartet has its moment to shine, with extended solo passages for the violins, cello, and viola. Against a backdrop of hushed chords, the melodies intertwine and unfold, creating a sense of depth and serenity. The composition builds towards an energetic climax, unexpected in its intensity, before the viola takes its turn, further enriching the sonic tapestry. The piece resonates with both beauty and profound meaning. The New Zealand String Quartet gave a striking first performance in Nelson, New Zealand, on August 23, 1998. Their interpretation captures the essence of its introspective nature, drawing listeners into a world of quiet contemplation and musical eloquence. Through the interplay of the four string instruments, the New Zealand String Quartet invites audiences to embark on a transformative journey, exploring the nuances of Abhisheka (1996) and experiencing the power of music to convey profound emotions and spiritual depth. Its unique blend of tranquility and complexity offers a rare opportunity for introspection and self-discovery, reminding us of the transformative power of art and the beauty that lies within silence and space.

Abhisheka (1996) is an introspective string quartet that has since been adapted for string orchestra, viola quartet, and wind ensemble. Standing apart from my typically energetic and densely notated works, it invites listeners into a slower-paced and more contemplative musical landscape. The inspiration came from reading a book by the Buddhist guru Chögyam Trungpa. The Sanskrit word "abhisheka" translates to "anointment" or "to sprinkle or pour." In the context of this composition, it represents a moment of initiation or a spiritual awakening, where one is open and willing to give up busyness and overcrowding, allowing space and peace to permeate. The work explores the concept of space in music, infusing the composition with moments of silence and slower passages that provide an opportunity for reflection and inner contemplation. The use of quarter-tones adds an intriguing and unusual sound to the piece, further enhancing its emotive impact. Within the composition, each instrument in the string quartet has its moment to shine, with extended solo passages for the violins, cello, and viola. Against a backdrop of hushed chords, the melodies intertwine and unfold, creating a sense of depth and serenity. The composition builds towards an energetic climax, unexpected in its intensity, before the viola takes its turn, further enriching the sonic tapestry. The piece resonates with both beauty and profound meaning. The New Zealand String Quartet gave a striking first performance in Nelson, New Zealand, on August 23, 1998. Their interpretation captures the essence of its introspective nature, drawing listeners into a world of quiet contemplation and musical eloquence. Through the interplay of the four string instruments, the New Zealand String Quartet invites audiences to embark on a transformative journey, exploring the nuances of Abhisheka and experiencing the power of music to convey profound emotions and spiritual depth. Its unique blend of tranquility and complexity offers a rare opportunity for introspection and self-discovery, reminding us of the transformative power of art and the beauty that lies within silence and space.

Abhisheka is a profoundly introspective and captivating string quartet that has since been adapted for string orchestra, viola quartet, and wind ensemble. Standing apart from my typically energetic and densely notated works, it invites listeners into a slower-paced and more contemplative musical landscape. The inspiration came from reading a book by the Buddhist guru Chögyam Trungpa. The Sanskrit word "abhisheka" translates to "anointment" or "to sprinkle or pour." In the context of this composition, it represents a moment of initiation or a spiritual awakening, where one is open and willing to give up busyness and overcrowding, allowing space and peace to permeate. The work explores the concept of space in music, infusing the composition with moments of silence and slower passages that provide an opportunity for reflection and inner contemplation. The use of quarter-tones adds an intriguing and unusual sound to the piece, further enhancing its emotive impact. Within the composition, each instrument in the string quartet has its moment to shine, with extended solo passages for the violins, cello, and viola. Against a backdrop of hushed chords, the melodies intertwine and unfold, creating a sense of depth and serenity. The composition builds towards an energetic climax, unexpected in its intensity, before the viola takes its turn, further enriching the sonic tapestry. The piece resonates with both beauty and profound meaning. The New Zealand String Quartet gave a striking first performance in Nelson, New Zealand, on August 23, 1998. Their interpretation captures the essence of its introspective nature, drawing listeners into a world of quiet contemplation and musical eloquence. Through the interplay of the four string instruments, the New Zealand String Quartet invites audiences to embark on a transformative journey, exploring the nuances of Abhisheka and experiencing the power of music to convey profound emotions and spiritual depth. Its unique blend of tranquility and complexity offers a rare opportunity for introspection and self-discovery, reminding us of the transformative power of art and the beauty that lies within silence and space.

Aegean, arranged here for percussion ensemble by Omar Carmenates, is the second of two companion works written for piano trio (PE181) the other being Corybas (PE179) The works were commissioned by Ian Graham as a birthday gift for his wife Agi Lehar-Graham ( the original manuscript adds a little wordplay to the work’s title, spelling Aegean as Agi-Ian), and in grateful recognition of the New Zealand Chamber Soloists (NZCS) Piano Trio – Katherine Austin, Lara Hall and James Tennant.

The performance materials for this percussion version of Aegean are available (as a digital download) from Promethean Editions HERE

Short and elegant, Aegean is a good fit for percussion ensembles wishing to add an element of gentle romance and nostalgia to their programme. The work is inspired in part by the view from my parents’ house, which overlooks the Aegean Sea, presenting a scene in which a calm sea gently rises and falls. The opening odd-metered and softly-articulated rhythmic figure evokes the irregular movements of the ocean’s surface, while passages that add repeated two-note semiquaver patterns in the upper register mirror the glistening of sunlight on the water’s rippling contours. The peacefulness of Aegean is reinforced by the poise in the other layers that decorate the work’s unhurried journey. These layers rhythmically intertwine, with softly expressive solo passages emerging throughout. The work becomes bathed in warmth, like the sun emerging from behind a cloud, sending light to play once again on the Aegean’s undulating surface. The parts finally merge into a rhythmic and melodic unison, sharing the idyllic (and ultimately melancholic) melodic statement that concludes the work.

Whenever I've been present at rehearsals for this piece, my input has tended to be the same each time. I work with the musicians to create an overall serenity and calm. To achieve this desired effect, the playing in all instruments needs to be very stable and even. Even when it becomes busier in the middle section, the imagination should veer toward depicting the glassy smooth surface of the Aegean; serene and mesmerising.

The very end of the piece, when parts are in unison, is (to me) a very sad section of music. It has a sorrowful feeling of ending and finality. I am always reminded of the time my mother's final months when I hear the end of Aegean. I guess it's because the piece was created in the same year as her passing.

Very few ensembles get this piece just right. I've sometimes wondered if there is vital information missing in the score, but I don't think so. I think perhaps there is a tendency in ensembles to look for more than what there is, in the music, and to over-dramatise contours and particular events within the flow.

The aim is to create a calm and serene atmosphere; mesmerising, lost in reverie.....

Omar's adaptation of the work is wonderful. I've heard it performed in person a number of times, and I can feel the piece resonated with him. His handling of the more intimate percussion timbres, and combinations of these into broader textures, is masterful.

Aegean is the second of two companion works written for piano trio (PE181) the other being Corybas (PE179) The works were commissioned by Ian Graham as a birthday gift for his wife Agi Lehar-Graham ( the original manuscript adds a little wordplay to the work’s title, spelling Aegean as Agi-Ian), and in grateful recognition of the New Zealand Chamber Soloists (NZCS) Piano Trio – Katherine Austin, Lara Hall and James Tennant.

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Short and elegant, Aegean is a good fit for trios wishing to add an element of gentle romance and nostalgia to their programme. The work is inspired in part by the view from my parents’ house, which overlooks the Aegean Sea, presenting a scene in which a calm sea gently rises and falls. The piano’s odd-metered and softly-articulated rhythmic figure evokes the irregular movements of the ocean’s surface, while passages that add repeated two-note semiquaver patterns in its upper staff mirror the glistening of sunlight on the water’s rippling contours. The peacefulness of Aegean is reinforced by the poise in the string writing that decorates the work’s unhurried journey. The violin and cello rhythmically intertwine, with softly expressive solo passages emerging throughout. The work becomes bathed in warmth, like the sun emerging from behind a cloud, sending light to play once again on the Aegean’s undulating surface. The strings finally merge into rhythmic unison, sharing the idyllic (and ultimately melancholic) melodic statement that concludes the work.

Whenever I've been present at rehearsals for this piece, my input has tended to be the same each time. I work with the musicians to create an overall serenity and calm. To achieve this desired effect, the playing in all instruments needs to be very stable and even. Even when it becomes busier in the middle section, the imagination should veer toward depicting the glassy smooth surface of the Aegean; serene and mesmerising.

The very end of the piece, where the violin and cello are in unison, is (to me) a very sad section of music. It has a sorrowful feeling of ending and finality. I am always reminded of the time my mother's final months when I hear the end of Aegean. I guess it's because the piece was created in the same year as her passing.

Very few ensembles get this piece just right. I've sometimes wondered if there is vital information missing in the score, but I don't think so. I think perhaps there is a tendency in ensembles to look for more than what there is, in the music, and to over-dramatise contours and particular events within the flow.

The aim is to create a calm and serene atmosphere; mesmerising, lost in reverie.....

One of the works/movements from the concert-length show "Between Zero and One" created in collaboration with New Zealand's Strike Percussion.

Ahlan wa Sahlan

By John Psathas, Oum El Ghait, Kyriakos Tapakis

1. Ahlan Wa Sahlan (soloists Oum el Gait, Kyriakos Tapakis) 6:30

2. Hijra (soloists Oum el Gait, Kyriakos Tapakis) 6:00

3. Achalino (soloist Kyriakos Tapakis) 5:30

4. Freedom• (soloists Oum el Gait ) 6:00

5. Dhakira (soloists Oum el Gait, Kyriakos Tapakis) 6:00

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A long-term collaborative ambient project with Jack Hooker

I've worked with Jack on many projects: Between Zero and One, No Man's Land, It's Already Tomorrow, The Last Days of March, and now Ambient Ousia. Our collaborative relationship feels very open-ended. He's extraordinarily talented, as composer, guitarist, and keyboard player (featuring in his band The Shocking and Stunning). With Ambient Ousia we've found a way of creating meditative, textural works that I love. I listen to these albums a lot. And there are more on the horizon.

Albums

A Piano Trio adaptation of the third movement of Halo

A SoundCloud Playlist with recordings of some of the pieces:

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The 'news' breaking....

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Also, there are many videos below of the cues I was responsible for.

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Here are some notes I compiled from various presentations…..

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‍SECRECY

It's a pleasure to be able to talk about this because the process was shrouded in so much secrecy that not many people know what I did. I’m going to talk a bit then show you some dvd footage of the cues I was involved in.

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HOW I GOT THE GIG

• I had an unknown (to me) job interview with George Koumendakis.
• Then a phone call at home....‍
• unlike what you’d imagine I didn’t immediately accept – ‍
• Freeing up the time – Stuart McCutcheon (then VC of VUW) was very supportive. Arts Laureate timing.
• Decision made with Carla. Knew it would be disruptive, but I’d be supported at home.
• Chance meeting with David Hirschfelder

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1ST TRIP TO GREECE ‍

Before I could travel - formidable confidentiality contract. (toward the end it became a real challenge keeping my involvement out of the media).

I asked was it because I was Greek? No – not parochial; they wanted an international sound.

Their research; several years. Cupboard of short list materials – 600 composers. In this cupboard was my Te Papa fanfare.

As they revealed their vision I was blown away by their daring and creativity. E.g. DJ Tiesto for the entrance of the athletes = party atmosphere.

Ceremonies divided into two elements: protocol and creative. Protocol segments are the obligatory sections in the ceremony – the things that must formally take place, such as the raising of the national and Olympics flags, the swearing of the oaths, the arrival and placing of the Olympic Flame etc. Often the protocol sections have been pretty tedious, but this creative team had the ambition to make the protocol segments as powerful and satisfying as the creative segments.

Originally disappointing but then I realized I was to be involved with the strongest symbols associated with the Games. The most important and meaningful moments.

They got a feel for my sense of what was being celebrated. Greece’s recent history – 1st and 2nd WW, Civil war, military dictatorship – it is really the last 30 years that the general population have experienced a sense of ownership and control over Greece’s cultural and historical direction. Given this historical context it was essential that I felt (not merely understood) the importance of the statement being made for Greece and it’s history.

Many trips to Greece in the next year. Sometimes just for 2 or 3 days.

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THE PROCESS

Came back and worked until the very last minute. So close to the wire that they were recording the music for the closing ceremony after the opening ceremony had occurred.

The time pressure was phenomenal and just kept getting tighter and tighter. I began working on this material in late 2003 – about 9 months out from the Opening Ceremony. At the Sydney 2000 games the music had been composed and recorded 9 months out!      

Even though it didn’t seem it at the time, in retrospect, the work itself i.e. realizing the vision through music, was not so difficult. I was very fortunate to be working with a great musical director;

• An excellent composer in his own right
• A great communicator
• Excellent manager of the project

Overall vision was to paint with broad, bold strokes. No fancy stuff. Musically this translated to more Dorian style of melody (not much melisma or melodic decoration). It was a challenge doing things in the time available as the vision kept evolving right up to the last minute.

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24-HOUR TURNAROUND

You’d think being on the other side of the planet would be a handicap but in fact….

I-work- they-sleep / I-sleep-they-provide-feedback

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IN CLOSING
Most important outcomes:

• I was part of and contributed to a Grand Experience
• I didn’t let them down – I validated their decision to choose me.

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More details about each cue can be found below

avenoir - n. the desire that memory could flow backward

Commissioner: Corey Hamm

Dedicated to: Corey Hamm

Instrumentation: Piano

Premiered by Corey Hamm on August 1, 2022 at the Perugia, Italy

We take it for granted that life moves forward. But you move as a rower moves, facing backwards: you can see where you’ve been, but not where you’re going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of you. It’s hard not to wonder what life would be like facing the other way…

Performance Materials available here: Avenoir Score

Baw My Barne is an intricate and intriguing setting of a medieval lullaby, which may be performed either by a group of eight solo voices or by a larger choir with a solo soprano. Written for SSAATTBB, this short work features Middle English, set with complex harmonies and angular intervals, which makes for a unique blend of old and new that could feature in any professional vocal or choral concert. Screenshots of the score are in the image gallery.

One of the works/movements from the concert-length show "Between Zero and One" created in collaboration with New Zealand's Strike Percussion.

What happens in the universe’s downtime? What would we humans do if we knew none of our gods were watching? Maybe we’d spend all our time just trying to find each other ... or maybe we’d release ourselves into an ecstatic frenzy...

Between Zero and One

is a music and visual performance on an epic scale – a new percussion work written by internationally acclaimed New Zealand/Greek composer John Psathas and performed by Wellington’s Strike Percussion.

Beginning and ending with a Big Bang, expect wild instrumentation, complex rhythms, moments of delicacy and warmth together with Strike’s signature charm.

Real time projection by Australian multi-media artist Tim Gruchy turns the space into a work of art. Also featuring additional compositions from David Downes and Jack Hooker plus guest musicians.

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One of the pieces/works from the concert-length show "Between Zero and One" created in collaboration with New Zealand's Strike Percussion.

Key Details:

Difficulty: Advanced

Premiered: 2013

Duration: 1:10:00

Commissioner: Strike Percussion

Video editing: Tim Gruchy

Performers: Strike Percussion

Set and Lighting: Glen Ashworth

Video and Interactives: Tim Gruchy

Director: Philippa Campbell

Instrumentation: Percussion Sextet: Mixed Percussion

Premiered by Strike Percussion on September 6, 2013 at the Christchurch Arts Festival, Christchurch, New Zealand

Programme

Arvo Pärt Silouan's Song
John Psathas, Oum, Kyriakos Tapakis Ahlan wa Sahlan

Interval

Second-Half program to be decided. An example of a suitable match with the first half is Rimsky-Korsakov's Sheherezade

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We offer an expression of peace and unity through music.

Haere mai and ahlan wa sahlan to a very special concert. To mark the 5th anniversary of the Christchurch terror attacks, we present a unique collaboration promoting peace and unity through music.

Conducted by Fawzi Haimor, featuring powerful Moroccan vocalist OUM and oud virtuoso Kyriakos Tapakis, we offer a program of Arvo Pärt, a new work from Aotearoa New Zealand composer John Psathas, and RimskyKorsakov.

Psathas’ Ahlan wa Sahlan, composed incollaboration with OUM and Tapakis, uses the Arabic welcome to let people know they are in a place where they belong. Finding inspiration in a quote promotingpeace, love and forgiveness from Mosque attack survivor Farid Ahmed’smemoir Husna's Story, Psathas, OUM and Tapakis have fused together musical styles from Eastern and Western cultures in Ahlan wa Sahlan. This work was commiddioned by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra and created with guidance from The Central IqraTrust and Muslim communities from across Aotearoa New Zealand.

The Orchestra also plays Arvo Pärt’s spiritual and meditative work Silouan’s Song, to open the concert.

Beyond Words is a symphonic expression of peace and unity. Let us take you on this journey beyond borders and beyond words. 

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Additional Programming Options

OUM arr. Tom McLeod Daba
Kyriakos Tapakis arr. Tom McLeod Mantilatos

One of the pieces/works from the concert-length show "Between Zero and One" created in collaboration with New Zealand's Strike Percussion.

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Buyan is a workout! Testing the timpanist's proficiency in various techniques. Across its six minutes, the player navigates syncopated grooves in compound time, roll and glissandi techniques, and playing with fingers. Most challenging of all, is the extensive pedalling required to articulate the melodic material. Buyan moves fast, its timpani line skipping around the backing track's cinematic electronica. The variety of playing techniques in Buyan explores many of the subtleties offered by the timpani.

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Calenture was commissioned by Double Edge (Edmund Niemann and Nurit Tilles).

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The first - and possibly most important - thing to say about this piece is that it has never been performed. It is possibly my most impractical uses of an ensemble (and there have been a few of those). One of the pianists needs to also be an advanced percussionist, and one of the movements requires both pianists to be moving fluidly between playing inside the piano (rapidly changing harmonics), and on the keyboard. Also, the guitar is required to produce an intimate quiet dry sound (1st movement), an extremely compressed continuous wailing (3rd movement), a clean jazz line (2nd movement) and wave-like swells (with an e-bow) in the last movement.

In Calenture I aimed to explore some of the expressive possibilities of the piano duo and electric guitar, showcasing the ensembles' ability to create unique textures and a captivating musical landscape. It was recorded on my first ever album - Rhythm Spike

Here's some AI text.....The work consists of four movements that combine techniques of contemporary classical piano with those found in rock and jazz electric guitar playing. Through this fusion, the music express some of the expressive possibilities of the electric guitar and piano duo, exploring both impressionistic tones and compelling rhythms, as they seamlessly blend together through immersive sonic motifs.

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There was actually another movement. Very short, about 30 seconds, in which the guitarist slid one finger dynamically across the finger-board throughout. It was cool but very likely would have produced a bloody stump. I shared it with guitarist friends here when writing the piece and they were pretty clear in their thoughts about it.....

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When writing the first movement I was teaching my students about musical canons. This one is reasonably strict in its canonic sharing between the three instruments. Specifically, the canon idea was used to introduce rhythmic modulations from within phrases; start adding triplets into the leader's part and as the other follow the music becomes saturated in triplets, thereby slowing down or speeding up, the overall motion. This movement also aims to draw the listener in with a mesmerising blend of harmonics resonating from within the piano, intertwining with half-muted guitar pitches. The instruments' rhythmic and tonal similarities create an atmosphere that I hear as enigmatic. As the movement progresses, fluttering piano gestures in the mid-register intertwine with ethereal guitar harmonics, expanding the sonic landscape.

In the second movement, one of the pianists switches to hand percussion (there'll be very few ensembles - if any - that can cover this extra requirement), providing a rhythmic foundation for fragmented quirky jazz-inspired phrases from the other musicians.

I also used the canon idea in the pianos in the third movement. In this movement, the piano's relentless rhythms anchor the composition, while the guitar introduces chordal stabs before soaring into its upper register. Here, the guitar emits bending, sustained notes and haunting squeals,bringin more intensity.

The fourth movement is my favourite, mostly due its strangeness. It unfolds around a gentle, harmonically static piano accompaniment. Amidst this tranquil backdrop, the other pianist punctuates this hypnotic state with punchy outbursts. Meanwhile, the guitar weaves in a series of sustained pitches using an ebow, heightening the movement's alien-sounding landscape. I used some of the ideas in his movement in the middle movement (Inferno) of my piano concerto Three Psalms

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There's an incredible improvised adaptation of Calenture by The Chris Mason-Batley Group on Spotify

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And, if you're feeling brave......Calenture Performance Materials

Co-written with Australian saxophonist Adam Page, Call of the Wild is a large-scale concerto for tenor saxophone and orchestra. Surprisingly, given Adam's prodigious improvising abilities, the soloist's part in this concerto is almost entirely notated.

The piece is in three parts:

I She Stands at the Edge of the Incomprehensible (11:30)

II He Can Worship It Without Believing It (7:00)

III Tramontane (6:45)

I was approached by The Nudge (Iraia Whakamoe, James Coyle, and Ryan Prebble) to add some layers to this  beautiful song. I ended up approaching it sideways bringing in some middle eastern strings, bass clarinet, etc. As I write this it’s 2024 and the song has just been released……….

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Originally the second movement of my guitar duo Muisca, this is an arrangement for solo piano and is performed by Jian Liu on the Atoll album “Sarajevo"

Cloud Folk was written at the invitation of Michael Burritt for the Eastman Percussion Ensemble. It was the recipient of the 2017 John Beck Composition Prize with the generous support of Ann Carol and Paul S. Goldberg, The Eastman School of Music Percussion Department, Michael Burritt, Kathleen Holt and Stephen Lurie, Ruth and Bill Cahn.

The Cloud Folk are (imaginary) visitors to earth, invisibly parked in our upper atmosphere, observing 21st century human behavior. I’d imagined an arrival driven by optimism, intense curiosity, and excitement; followed quickly by incomprehension, shock, and the hastiest possible departure (back into a wondrous universe teeming with life). With no contact made, in fact avoided at all costs, we were never aware we’d been visited. The music loosely follows this narrative.

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Connectome embarks on a captivating journey of musical exploration that delves into the intricate neural connections within the human brain. Just as a comprehensive map reveals the intricate wiring of the brain, this composition offers three distinct reflections on the potential futures that the mind's intricate network may lead us to.

In Part 1 - "Pashupatastra (From the Mahabharata)," we draw inspiration from an ancient tale. Arjuna seeks the sacred and formidable weapon, Pashupatastra, which possesses the power to vanquish both man and god. However, he is warned of its uncontrollable nature—the weapon cannot be discarded, returned, or reversed once unleashed. Echoing the spirit of a New Orleans funeral's second line, we contemplate whether we, as humans, have become the ultimate weapon, potentially aiming destruction upon ourselves. Could this be our own funeral march, accompanied by a recognizable yet fragmented melody?

Part 2 - "Farewell to the Flesh," an elegy, contemplates the prospect of achieving complete scans of our neural connections, creating accurate and comprehensive connectomes within our brains and nervous systems. This increasing likelihood raises profound questions about the transition to digital consciousness after death—an immortal existence. Yet, amidst this transformation, we ponder the mourning of our physical, sensual selves. Will emotions still resonate within us as code? Will a well-crafted joke evoke genuine laughter? Can we experience the senses of touch, taste, smell, and hearing? And as digital beings, will our very essence be subject to editing, replication, or the merging of human and artificial intelligence?

In Part 3 - "Rom in Space," we venture further into the future of space travel, imagining a time when all individuals have the freedom to traverse the cosmos. Picture a vibrant community of gypsies and nomads, filling the stars with their energy and creativity. This vision invites us to consider the boundless possibilities and the collective spirit that humanity, and perhaps even our connectomes, could bring to the uncharted realms of outer space.

"Connectome" offers a thought-provoking musical odyssey, exploring the intricate pathways of the human mind and the potential futures that lie within. Through evocative melodies and profound reflections, we invite you to contemplate the intertwined nature of our neural connections and the extraordinary possibilities that may await us on this extraordinary journey of self-discovery and cosmic exploration.

Release Date: Sunday 20 April 2014

"This album from the NZCS features all of renown New Zealand composer, John Psathas' works for chamber ensemble that include piano - most originally commissioned for the ensemble.

Featuring works up to quintet formation, the performers are: Katherine Austin (piano) James Tennant (cello), Lara Hall (violin),
with Amalia Hall (violin) Robert Ashworth (viola)"

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Tracklist

1. Corybas 12:24

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2-4 Piano Quintet

2. Quintet: 1 Quintet 8:08

3. Quintet: 2 8:08

4. Quintet: 3 4:37

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5-7 Helix

5. Archon: Metron 8:57

6. The Biggest Nothing of Them All 6:53

7. Tarantismo 7:03

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8. Aegean 4:45

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9-11 Island Songs

9. Island Songs: 1 4:53

10. Island Songs: 2 4:58

11. Island Songs: 3 3:07

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Hardcopy of the CD album available here

Arranged here for percussion ensemble by Omar Carmenates, Corybas, a dynamic, willful, and playful paino trio was commissioned by Ian Graham as a birthday gift for his wife Agi Lehar-Graham, and in grateful recognition of the New Zealand Chamber Soloists (NZCS) Piano Trio – Katherine Austin, Lara Hall and James Tennant.

It's in stark contrast to the calmer, more serene, Aegean its companion work (also adapted by Omar for percussion ensemble) which can be thought of as its postlude.

As a composer, it was an intriguing situation to consider the influence of the work being a gift. So, I reached out to Ian for a reference point and discovered Aggie's interest in the Corybas flower. The name originates from the helmet-shaped flowers, resembling the headgear worn by the dancers of Corybas in Ancient Greece. The lively odd-metered rhythmic patterns in Corybas echo the vibrant movements of the dancers in Eastern European traditions, capturing their spirit and energy

An exciting aspect of writing Corybas was getting my head around a particular dance groove found in Macedonia, which is in 17/8 time but divided into measures of 7/8, 6/8, and 4/8. It’s a fantastic groove but it takes some work to internalise it. I had to play with this groove in a way that would keep performers from going crazy because of the amount of variation and syncopation on top the 17/8 meter, otherwise the material would be stressful and unsatisfying to play instead of exciting.

I’m very happy about Corybas because I think I got the balance right in this respect. Once performers internalise the underlying meter I see a transformation take place and they love to play it. Later on I found out the name of Ian and Aggies boat was called Corybas, so there is some kind of connection

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Performance notes

• Vibraphone 1 is written for a standard 3-octave vibraphone.
• Vibraphone 2 is written for a 3.5 or 4-octave vibraphone. However, if an extended range instrument is not available, a standard vibraphone could be used and those low-range notes could be played up the octave.
• Four bows are required for arco passages, two each for Vibraphone 1 and 2.
• The motors of both vibraphones are used and pedalling is at the discretion of theplayers except where marked.
• Marimba 1 is written for a 4.3 octave instrument, and also plays some Glockenspiel including low FÍ. If low FÍ is not available then those notes may be transposed up.
• Marimba 2 and Marimba 3 are both written for 5-octave instruments
• Percussion includes: bamboo chimes, flat ride (with sizzles), tubular bells, sizzle
• cymbal, triangle, four tom-toms, and daouli.‍
• Daouli (also called a davul) is a double-headed drum played with a stick in one hand and a thin switch in the other. If a daouli is not available, a small unmuted bass drum will suffice instead. However, if the performer prefers, any kind of frame drum or hand drum such as a tar, daff, or doumbek would also be welcome. To accommodate any of the above choices, these sections are notated with two broad sound choices noted in the score: ‘doum’ (a low open tone) or ‘tak’ (a high-pitched tone). Performers are welcome to adapt these parts to the idiosyncrasies of their chosen instrument.

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Corybas, a dynamic, willful, and playful paino trio was commissioned by Ian Graham as a birthday gift for his wife Agi Lehar-Graham, and in grateful recognition of the New Zealand Chamber Soloists (NZCS) Piano Trio – Katherine Austin, Lara Hall and James Tennant.

It's in stark contrast to the calmer, more serene, Aegean its companion work which can be thought of as its postlude.

As a composer, it was an intriguing situation to consider the influence of the work being a gift. So, I reached out to Ian for a reference point and discovered Aggie's interest in the Corybas flower. The name originates from the helmet-shaped flowers, resembling the headgear worn by the dancers of Corybas in Ancient Greece. The lively odd-metered rhythmic patterns in Corybas echo the vibrant movements of the dancers in Eastern European traditions, capturing their spirit and energy.

An exciting aspect of writing Corybas was getting my head around a particular dance groove found in Macedonia, which is in 17/8. This is divided into measures of 7/8, 6/8, and 4/8. It’s a fantastic groove but it takes some work to internalise it. I had to play with this groove in a way that would keep performers from going crazy because of the amount of variation and syncopation that's layered on top the 17/8 meter. Otherwise the material would be stressful and unsatisfying to play instead of exciting.

I’m very happy about Corybas because I think I got the balance right in this respect. Once performers internalise the underlying meter I see a transformation take place and they love to play it. Later on I found out the name of Ian and Aggies boat was called Corybas, so there is a lovely connection there.

Corybas is one of my favourite pieces and I wish it was performed more. I'm grateful for Omar Carmenates's excellent percussion adaptation of the piece, which has given it more outings.

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Arranged here for Saxophone, Cello, and Piano, Corybas, a dynamic, willful, and playful piano trio was commissioned by Ian Graham as a birthday gift for his wife Agi Lehar-Graham, and in grateful recognition of the New Zealand Chamber Soloists (NZCS) Piano Trio – Katherine Austin, Lara Hall and James Tennant.

It's in stark contrast to the calmer, more serene, Aegean its companion work which can be thought of as its postlude.

As a composer, it was an intriguing situation to consider the influence of the work being a gift. So, I reached out to Ian for a reference point and discovered Aggie's interest in the Corybas flower. The name originates from the helmet-shaped flowers, resembling the headgear worn by the dancers of Corybas in Ancient Greece. The lively odd-metered rhythmic patterns in Corybas echo the vibrant movements of the dancers in Eastern European traditions, capturing their spirit and energy.

An exciting aspect of writing Corybas was getting my head around a particular dance groove found in Macedonia, which is in 17/8. This is divided into measures of 7/8, 6/8, and 4/8. It’s a fantastic groove but it takes some work to internalise it. I had to play with this groove in a way that would keep performers from going crazy because of the amount of variation and syncopation that's layered on top the 17/8 meter. Otherwise the material would be stressful and unsatisfying to play instead of exciting.

I’m very happy about Corybas because I think I got the balance right in this respect. Once performers internalise the underlying meter I see a transformation take place and they love to play it. Later on I found out the name of Ian and Aggies boat was called Corybas, so there is a lovely connection there.

Corybas is one of my favourite pieces and I wish it was performed more. I'm grateful for Omar Carmenates's excellent percussion adaptation of the piece, which has given it more outings.

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CubaSonic, an outdoor, multisite extravaganza of Brass, Percussion and Digital Audio, featured 500 musicians spanning 3 inner city blocks of Wellington's famous Cuba Street as part of the 2021 CubaDupa Festival.

Originally conceived in 2018 and set to premiere in 2019, the piece's significance transformed unexpectedly amidst the backdrop of the global lockdowns caused by the Covid-19 pandemic.

The inspiration for CubaSonic came from the vibrant atmosphere of CubaDupa, an annual festival that unfolds along one of Wellington's longest inner-city street. The festival's diverse program and spatial layout sparked the idea of presenting and experiencing music in a truly unique way. The evolving landscape of CubaDupa, with its sprawling yet condensed festival site, opened up endless possibilities for musical exploration. With a focus on space and immersion, CubaSonic weaves its musical ideas throughout the three blocks of Cuba Street with ensembles and speakers remaining stationary, whilst the musical material flowed, creating a sonic environment that enveloped the audience.

Juxtaposing ensembles and utilizing call and response techniques, the composition highlighted the vast distances between performers, enhancing the immersive experience. CubaSonic's grand scale and epic nature perfectly suited the outdoor setting, amplifying the impact of percussion, brass, wind, and amplified instruments over the expansive distances. While delays and cancellations resulted in numerous rewrites and a lack of a single representative score, the composition brought together an impressive list of participating ensembles. It also represented a great feeling of togetherness at a time where massed gatherings of this nature seemed to be a thing of the past.

I couldn't have created this piece without the extraordinary talent, collaboration,(and perseverance) of Nick Veale

The music on Diálogos is a conversation between my precisely notated compositions and the intuitive processes of collective improvisation.

With influences as diverse as new classical, contemporary jazz, world, and drum’n’bass, Diálogos kind of ignores the boundaries of generic idioms.

Diálogos is a revelation. I don’t know what the language is that properly describes what Chris, Sam, David, and Stephen are doing, but they’re somehow creating new works. This isn’t ‘arranging’ or ‘adapting’, I feel it’s better described as continuing the composing process, and taking it into an entirely new creative space.

1 Fragment

2 Demonic Thesis

3 Minos

4 His Second Time

5 Drum Dances Part 4

6 Calenture Part 1

7 Calenture Part 2

8 Calenture Part 3

9 Calenture Part 4

10 Calenture Reprise

11 Inferno (from Three Psalms piano concerto)

Buy the album from Bandcamp here: Dialogos on Bandcamp

Djinn - a concerto for marimba and chamber orchestra, was written for and inspired by percussionist Pedro Carneiro.

It has since been arranged for solo marimba and digital audio, marimba and percussion ensemble, and marimba and traditional Chinese instruments.

This concerto is an early example of collective commissioning with three of New Zealand's regional orchestra's contributing to the process with funding provided by Creative New Zealand. Orchestra Wellington under the leadership of Christine Pearce- who drove the commission and the project - the Auckland Philharmonia, and the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra each performed the work as part of its premiere season in April 2010 with Marc Taddei at the baton, and Pedro as soloist, for all three performances.

Inspired by the mystical concept of the djinn, or genie, Djinn embarks on a musical exploration of magical themes and mythical tales. In three movements, the concerto unfolds like a transformative journey through the realms of Pandora, the labyrinth, and the ethereal realm of dreams.

Djinn contains possibly my best marimba writing, particularly the unaccompanied parts in the middle movement (and particularly the end of that movement). Listening back, I seem to have understood (at least temporarily) the integrated instrument and the effect of its resonance. As someone who struggles composing for that instrument, I'm heartened to have at least some examples of writing for it that are not primarily conceived around the attack points, or transients, of notes.

As an orchestral work it is a beast. One of the most difficult to put together. Every part is hard; and to be fully realised, it requires a rehearsal approach that is closer to chamber music preparation than the orchestral process. The second movement in particular has the detailed writing that would be more suitable to a string quartet. And the third movement has intentional derailments of the flow that were an attempt to simulate the how entire musical textures can speed up and slow down when manipulating a vinyl on a turntable. I worked this out painstakingly, event by event, (now I have a plug-in), then worked out how to notate it, and tried to make it as user-friendly as possible for the players...but it's still nasty to put together.

There are two competing voices in me; one is ever-grateful that I only ever write what I want to hear, the other hectors me like a shrew that I create works like Djinn which are almost never performed. So many composers figure out the middle ground; I'm nearly 60 at the time of writing and I'm still so far away from knowing how to write what I want to hear in a way that is eminently playable. I always seem to find my inspiration at the edge of what's possible, and only there.

The journey of this work is woven in and around my relationship with Pedro. I feel incredibly lucky to have met him when I did. He is responsible for One Study One Summary as well as Psyzygysm, he recorded View from Olympus and he inspired Djinn. In 2018 when I was on sabbatical in London, I went to Lisbon to record this concerto with Pedro. His internalisation of the solo part, the depth of his understanding of the instrument when playing this music, was a once-in-a-lifetime, profound, experience for me. He revealed the music within the music that I didn't yet know was there. In the end that recording didn't make it to release, a real loss of sharing such a great artist's capture of this music. These are big milestones in musical relationships.

Pedro also performed the work in Taiwan with a Chinese instruments orchestra - there's a video below. For me, absolutely extraordinary.

Djinn - a concerto for marimba and chamber orchestra, was written for and inspired by percussionist Pedro Carneiro.

It has since been arranged for solo marimba and digital audio, marimba and percussion ensemble, and marimba and traditional Chinese instruments.

This concerto is an early example of collective commissioning with three of New Zealand's regional orchestra's contributing to the process with funding provided by Creative New Zealand. Orchestra Wellington under the leadership of Christine Pearce- who drove the commission and the project - the Auckland Philharmonia, and the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra each performed the work as part of its premiere season in April 2010 with Marc Taddei at the baton, and Pedro as soloist, for all three performances.

Inspired by the mystical concept of the djinn, or genie, Djinn embarks on a musical exploration of magical themes and mythical tales. In three movements, the concerto unfolds like a transformative journey through the realms of Pandora, the labyrinth, and the ethereal realm of dreams.

Djinn contains possibly my best marimba writing, particularly the unaccompanied parts in the middle movement (and particularly the end of that movement). Listening back, I seem to have understood (at least temporarily) the integrated instrument and the effect of its resonance. As someone who struggles composing for that instrument, I'm heartened to have at least some examples of writing for it that are not primarily conceived around the attack points, or transients, of notes.

As an orchestral work it is a beast. One of the most difficult to put together. Every part is hard; and to be fully realised, it requires a rehearsal approach that is closer to chamber music preparation than the orchestral process. The second movement in particular has the detailed writing that would be more suitable to a string quartet. And the third movement has intentional derailments of the flow that were an attempt to simulate the how entire musical textures can speed up and slow down when manipulating a vinyl on a turntable. I worked this out painstakingly, event by event, (now I have a plug-in), then worked out how to notate it, and tried to make it as user-friendly as possible for the players...but it's still nasty to put together.

There are two competing voices in me; one is ever-grateful that I only ever write what I want to hear, the other hectors me like a shrew that I create works like Djinn which are almost never performed. So many composers figure out the middle ground; I'm nearly 60 at the time of writing and I'm still so far away from knowing how to write what I want to hear in a way that is eminently playable. I always seem to find my inspiration at the edge of what's possible, and only there.

The journey of this work is woven in and around my relationship with Pedro. I feel incredibly lucky to have met him when I did. He is responsible for One Study One Summary as well as Psyzygysm, he recorded View from Olympus and he inspired Djinn. In 2018 when I was on sabbatical in London, I went to Lisbon to record this concerto with Pedro. His internalisation of the solo part, the depth of his understanding of the instrument when playing this music, was a once-in-a-lifetime, profound, experience for me. He revealed the music within the music that I didn't yet know was there. In the end that recording didn't make it to release, a real loss of sharing such a great artist's capture of this music. These are big milestones in musical relationships.

Pedro also performed the work in Taiwan with a Chinese instruments orchestra - there's a video below. For me, absolutely extraordinary.

Djinn - a concerto for marimba and chamber orchestra, was written for and inspired by percussionist Pedro Carneiro.

It has since been arranged for solo marimba and digital audio, marimba and percussion ensemble, and marimba and traditional Chinese instruments.

This concerto is an early example of collective commissioning with three of New Zealand's regional orchestra's contributing to the process with funding provided by Creative New Zealand. Orchestra Wellington under the leadership of Christine Pearce- who drove the commission and the project - the Auckland Philharmonia, and the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra each performed the work as part of its premiere season in April 2010 with Marc Taddei at the baton, and Pedro as soloist, for all three performances.

Inspired by the mystical concept of the djinn, or genie, Djinn embarks on a musical exploration of magical themes and mythical tales. In three movements, the concerto unfolds like a transformative journey through the realms of Pandora, the labyrinth, and the ethereal realm of dreams.

Djinn contains possibly my best marimba writing, particularly the unaccompanied parts in the middle movement (and particularly the end of that movement). Listening back, I seem to have understood (at least temporarily) the integrated instrument and the effect of its resonance. As someone who struggles composing for that instrument, I'm heartened to have at least some examples of writing for it that are not primarily conceived around the attack points, or transients, of notes.

As an orchestral work it is a beast. One of the most difficult to put together. Every part is hard; and to be fully realised, it requires a rehearsal approach that is closer to chamber music preparation than the orchestral process. The second movement in particular has the detailed writing that would be more suitable to a string quartet. And the third movement has intentional derailments of the flow that were an attempt to simulate the how entire musical textures can speed up and slow down when manipulating a vinyl on a turntable. I worked this out painstakingly, event by event, (now I have a plug-in), then worked out how to notate it, and tried to make it as user-friendly as possible for the players...but it's still nasty to put together.

There are two competing voices in me; one is ever-grateful that I only ever write what I want to hear, the other hectors me like a shrew that I create works like Djinn which are almost never performed. So many composers figure out the middle ground; I'm nearly 60 at the time of writing and I'm still so far away from knowing how to write what I want to hear in a way that is eminently playable. I always seem to find my inspiration at the edge of what's possible, and only there.

The journey of this work is woven in and around my relationship with Pedro. I feel incredibly lucky to have met him when I did. He is responsible for One Study One Summary as well as Psyzygysm, he recorded View from Olympus and he inspired Djinn. In 2018 when I was on sabbatical in London, I went to Lisbon to record this concerto with Pedro. His internalisation of the solo part, the depth of his understanding of the instrument when playing this music, was a once-in-a-lifetime, profound, experience for me. He revealed the music within the music that I didn't yet know was there. In the end that recording didn't make it to release, a real loss of sharing such a great artist's capture of this music. These are big milestones in musical relationships.

Pedro also performed the work in Taiwan with a Chinese instruments orchestra - there's a video below. For me, absolutely extraordinary.

Djinn - a concerto for marimba and chamber orchestra, was written for and inspired by percussionist Pedro Carneiro.

It has since been arranged for solo marimba and digital audio, marimba and percussion ensemble (by Omar Carmenates), and marimba and traditional Chinese instruments.

This concerto is an early example of collective commissioning with three of New Zealand's regional orchestra's contributing to the process with funding provided by Creative New Zealand. Orchestra Wellington under the leadership of Christine Pearce- who drove the commission and the project - the Auckland Philharmonia, and the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra each performed the work as part of its premiere season in April 2010 with Marc Taddei at the baton, and Pedro as soloist, for all three performances.

Inspired by the mystical concept of the djinn, or genie, Djinn embarks on a musical exploration of magical themes and mythical tales. In three movements, the concerto unfolds like a transformative journey through the realms of Pandora, the labyrinth, and the ethereal realm of dreams.

Djinn contains possibly my best marimba writing, particularly the unaccompanied parts in the middle movement (and particularly the end of that movement). Listening back, I seem to have understood (at least temporarily) the integrated instrument and the effect of its resonance. As someone who struggles composing for that instrument, I'm heartened to have at least some examples of writing for it that are not primarily conceived around the attack points, or transients, of notes.

As an orchestral work it is a beast. One of the most difficult to put together. Every part is hard; and to be fully realised, it requires a rehearsal approach that is closer to chamber music preparation than the orchestral process. The second movement in particular has the detailed writing that would be more suitable to a string quartet. And the third movement has intentional derailments of the flow that were an attempt to simulate the how entire musical textures can speed up and slow down when manipulating a vinyl on a turntable. I worked this out painstakingly, event by event, (now I have a plug-in), then worked out how to notate it, and tried to make it as user-friendly as possible for the players...but it's still nasty to put together.

There are two competing voices in me; one is ever-grateful that I only ever write what I want to hear, the other hectors me like a shrew that I create works like Djinn which are almost never performed. So many composers figure out the middle ground; I'm nearly 60 at the time of writing and I'm still so far away from knowing how to write what I want to hear in a way that is eminently playable. I always seem to find my inspiration at the edge of what's possible, and only there.

The journey of this work is woven in and around my relationship with Pedro. I feel incredibly lucky to have met him when I did. He is responsible for One Study One Summary as well as Psyzygysm, he recorded View from Olympus and he inspired Djinn. In 2018 when I was on sabbatical in London, I went to Lisbon to record this concerto with Pedro. His internalisation of the solo part, the depth of his understanding of the instrument when playing this music, was a once-in-a-lifetime, profound, experience for me. He revealed the music within the music that I didn't yet know was there. In the end that recording didn't make it to release, a real loss of sharing such a great artist's capture of this music. These are big milestones in musical relationships.

Pedro also performed the work in Taiwan with a Chinese instruments orchestra - there's a video below. For me, absolutely extraordinary.

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Here's movement III......

Djinn: III. Outdreaming the Genie by John Psathas, Arranged By Omar Carmenates

Performed by the Florida State Percussion Ensemble in Opperman Music Hall on November 9th, 2024.

Video recorded and edited by Justin Ball.

Audio recorded and edited by Justin Ball and John Parks.

Personnel: Will Vasquez (Soloist), Will McCoy, Jessica Weinberg, Jake Fenoff, Jackson Kowalczyk, Drew Jungslager, Mackenzie Selimi, Jordan Brown, Kenny Sharkey, Ian Guarraia, and Ethan Brink.

Dreams of Twilight is a two movement trio for Clarinet, Piano and Mallet Percussion (Marimba and Vibraphone). The work is commissioned by Texas A&M International University (TAMIU) Professors Abby Lloyd, Tatiana Gorbunova and Mark Boseman to whom it is also dedicated to.

The process of creating this piece started better than it ended. I had a great ongoing dialogue with Tatiana (who instigated the work), and one terrific zoom call with the whole trio. I launched into the composing and was absolutely loving the music (working on the first movement). I then received a notification from the group that to satisfy their funding criteria (particularly if they were to record the piece) it had become necessary to complete the work much sooner than I'd planned.

Very unfortunately, because of this I had to pull out of being a mentor at the Nelson Composer's Workshop at the last minute, causing the organisers no small amount of inconvenience. I went to my composing outpost in Waitarere and immersed myself in the work to finish by the new deadline. I'm very happy with the first movement but can hear that the second movement would have benefited from more time.

This is one of the risks of having a multi-year schedule; at the time of writing this (2025) my schedule extends to 2030, with 2026 and 2027 almost entirely full with little or no wiggle room. With this domino-like setup of projects and travel, there is little room for adjustment. Over several decades I've refined things to suit my idiosyncratic way, and pace, of composing; allowing enough time (with some extra) to create the best work I'm capable of. This creative engine room has been fine-tuned and works extremely well for me, especially since having left university.

Which means though, that an external imposition of change to the schedule can be challenging.

I did accommodate the change in delivery date, and the work was received. But I don't know if the recording project (which prompted the shift in timeline) ever happened. Or if the work has ever been performed. Communication dried up. I can't help but assume the trio were disappointed in the work.

I did really enjoy writing for the specific ensemble. Particularly the sound of the clarinet with mallet percussion. It steered me toward more gentle textures. I think the first movement is strong and beautiful in its way. The second movement (plagiarising the opening piano idea from Atalanta) has some great material and moments, but needed more exploration of possibilities, particularly around the climax.

Arranged for percussion ensemble by Omar Carmenates.

This work is heavily influenced by jazz and rock drumming, particularly from the late 1980s to early 1990s. Commissioned by Dame Evelyn Glennie, Drum Dances has become a standard for drum kit and piano repertoire. A few of the percussionists who have performed the work have shared its strongest endorsement when they told me, after the performance audience members asked them if they were improvising or if their part was fully notated.

This piece was written during the launch and rise of Chick Corea’s Elektric Band, a band that also revealed the genius of Dave Weckl (along with John Patitucci, Eric Marienthal, and Frank Gambale) to the world. I was mesmerized by the interaction between drums and keyboard in the Elektric Band, and the influence of that music is evident in Drum Dances.  I was greatly inspired by the drumming of Dave Weckl, the very different pianistic styles of Keith Jarret and Chick Corea, and the enormous energy in the music of guitarists like Steve Vai.

Each of the four 'dances' was stimulated by a certain rhythmic interaction possible between two performers. From the chaotic first movement (which is like a game where both players attempt to force each other's cadences), to the ending of the prestissimo fourth movement (where both parts are synchronised) the two performers gradually begin working together instead of battling for priority. The second movement includes a glockenspiel part for the percussionist and the third movement involves a very tight rhythmic interaction, driven by syncopation simultaneously occurring on several levels (from the semiquaver to the crotchet). I still can't accurately count through the drum intro to the third movement....

Drum Dances is dedicated to my wife, Carla.

One of the early milestones of my composing life was receiving a cassette in the mail from Joel Sachs at the Juilliard School in New York. This cassette contained a recording of Drum Dances (the first time I'd heard it performed, beyond my midi demo). I received the tape during a tutorial with a student, and I suggested we listen together. Hearing this work played by Stephen Gosling on piano and Brian Resnick on drum set (both students at the Juilliard at the time), was a moment of powerful landing in my understanding of myself as a composer. I listened to this electrifying performance - by what were probably teenagers - and realised it was possible. I could write the way I wanted to and there were people out there that could play it. It's incredible to think back and understand what permission was granted me in that moment.

Hearing that performance inspired me in a number of ways. The most immediate was the determination to record the piece in a good studio with those specific musicians. There was a special timing at work; I had just started what would become a long and immensely rewarding relationship with a newly-established New Zealand record label, Rattle Records. They had included Matre's Dance on one of their first ever albums Different Tracks.

We started talking about an all-Psathas album. This was in 1997, around the time that I had decided to self-fund travelling to New York for the premiere by the New Juilliard Ensemble of a work they'd commissioned, Stream 3.

I booked into the Hit Factory and spent an incredible day there with Brian and Stephen. These were big experiences, a premiere at the Lincoln Centre, a recording in the same studio space where Billy Joel had recently been recording and where they were making remixes of Seal's songs while I was there. And there I was, with my personal New Zealand-dollar budget. When we ran out of tape (just 20 bars from the end of the last movement) I had to tell the engineer I couldn't afford another reel (they were huge multi-track analog tapes that cost the equivalent of around $500 NZ dollars). To put it into context, I was in NY sleeping on someone's floor, and walkign everywhere because I couldn't afford cabs. The recording engineer, kindly and graciously, cut the lead-in section of the tape-reel (which they normally never record on, for safety reasons), and spliced it on to the end of the reel. We got the last takes recorded just seconds before the tape ran out.

I transported these two massive tape reels back to New Zealand and we transferred them into Steve Garden's digital environment. Drum Dances then became tracks 7-10 on my first ever album Rhythm Spike. Everything else on that album was recorded here in New Zealand and I feel incredibly lucky to have such fantastic recordings and performances of these early works. Rattle secured funding from Creative New Zealand to bring Brian and Stephen - and bassist David Arend - to Wellington. We recorded Stream 3.3 and Spike with them.

This work is heavily influenced by jazz and rock drumming, particularly from the late 1980s to early 1990s. Commissioned by Dame Evelyn Glennie, Drum Dances has become a standard for drum kit and piano repertoire. A few of the percussionists who have performed the work have shared its strongest endorsement when they told me, after the performance audience members asked them if they were improvising or if their part was fully notated.

This piece was written during the launch and rise of Chick Corea’s Elektric Band, a band that also revealed the genius of Dave Weckl (along with John Patitucci, Eric Marienthal, and Frank Gambale) to the world. I was mesmerized by the interaction between drums and keyboard in the Elektric Band, and the influence of that music is evident in Drum Dances.  I was greatly inspired by the drumming of Dave Weckl, the very different pianistic styles of Keith Jarret and Chick Corea, and the enormous energy in the music of guitarists like Steve Vai.

Each of the four 'dances' was stimulated by a certain rhythmic interaction possible between two performers. From the chaotic first movement (which is like a game where both players attempt to force each other's cadences), to the ending of the prestissimo fourth movement (where both parts are synchronised) the two performers gradually begin working together instead of battling for priority. The second movement includes a glockenspiel part for the percussionist and the third movement involves a very tight rhythmic interaction, driven by syncopation simultaneously occurring on several levels (from the semiquaver to the crotchet). I still can't accurately count through the drum intro to the third movement....

Drum Dances is dedicated to my wife, Carla.

One of the early milestones of my composing life was receiving a cassette in the mail from Joel Sachs at the Juilliard School in New York. This cassette contained a recording of Drum Dances (the first time I'd heard it performed, beyond my midi demo). I received the tape during a tutorial with a student, and I suggested we listen together. Hearing this work played by Stephen Gosling on piano and Brian Resnick on drum set (both students at the Juilliard at the time), was a moment of powerful landing in my understanding of myself as a composer. I listened to this electrifying performance - by what were probably teenagers - and realised it was possible. I could write the way I wanted to and there were people out there that could play it. It's incredible to think back and understand what permission was granted me in that moment.

Hearing that performance inspired me in a number of ways. The most immediate was the determination to record the piece in a good studio with those specific musicians. There was a special timing at work; I had just started what would become a long and immensely rewarding relationship with a newly-established New Zealand record label, Rattle Records. They had included Matre's Dance on one of their first ever albums Different Tracks.

We started talking about an all-Psathas album. This was in 1997, around the time that I had decided to self-fund travelling to New York for the premiere by the New Juilliard Ensemble of a work they'd commissioned, Stream 3.

I booked into the Hit Factory and spent an incredible day there with Brian and Stephen. These were big experiences, a premiere at the Lincoln Centre, a recording in the same studio space where Billy Joel had recently been recording and where they were making remixes of Seal's songs while I was there. And there I was, with my personal New Zealand-dollar budget. When we ran out of tape (just 20 bars from the end of the last movement) I had to tell the engineer I couldn't afford another reel (they were huge multi-track analog tapes that cost the equivalent of around $500 NZ dollars). To put it into context, I was in NY sleeping on someone's floor, and walkign everywhere because I couldn't afford cabs. The recording engineer, kindly and graciously, cut the lead-in section of the tape-reel (which they normally never record on, for safety reasons), and spliced it on to the end of the reel. We got the last takes recorded just seconds before the tape ran out.

I transported these two massive tape reels back to New Zealand and we transferred them into Steve Garden's digital environment. Drum Dances then became tracks 7-10 on my first ever album Rhythm Spike. Everything else on that album was recorded here in New Zealand and I feel incredibly lucky to have such fantastic recordings and performances of these early works. Rattle secured funding from Creative New Zealand to bring Brian and Stephen - and bassist David Arend - to Wellington. We recorded Stream 3.3 and Spike with them. I found an old photo of us all at home during a break......see below.

Elect the Dead Symphony is a full length live album and concert from Serj Tankian, solo artist, painter, poet, activist, and frontman of System of a Down.

This collaboration marks the beginning of one of the great musical and personal relationships of my artistic life.

The Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra suggested me for the role of orchestrating 14 of Serj's songs, to be performed by him, Dan Monti, and the APO. The task was one of breathing life into this unique fusion of rock and classical. The aim of the concert was to present renditions of tracks on the Elect the Dead album as well as previously unreleased songs, exploring fresh and unchartered musical territory.

A standout among the repertoire was "Charades," now reimagined and officially released as "The Charade." Originally considered for System of a Down's album Hypnotize, this song made its debut as a live version on the Axis of Justice compilation. However, Elect the Dead Symphony showcases the very first studio recording of "The Charade," offering a definitive rendition.

The album's release in February 2010 solidified its status as a must-have for fans of Serj's mesmerizing musical vision.

Serj was great to work with from the start. What I remember from our first conversation was his repeatedly calling me 'brother' - something I was not used to. In fact, I don't think anyone had ever called me that before. Serj had a very clear idea of what he wanted for orchestra and sound, and a lot of the materials he shared for me to work with contained detailed orchestrations of his own. A number of tracks were simply a case of tidying up and filling out a near-completed orchestration. In other tracks I had more leeway to expand and shape the orchestral layers.

I received stems from Serj for each song and started working in Logic with my orchestral libraries. The dialogue back and forth was easy and clear (for me at least - I've never asked Serj what it was like for him to work with me.....). I remember when we got close to the wire and time was short, I sent Serj two tracks for feedback, which I needed asap. I think it cost him going to hear Neil Young live that night, which I've always felt guilty about.

The concert was incredible; at the Auckland Town Hall. I'd recommended an ex-student, Hamish Oliver, for the piano playing and was thrilled to see him on stage that night. And Hamish McKeich conducted, which was the start of his own long relationship with Serj, going on to conduct Elect the Dead Symphony all over the world.

Serj invited me onstage at one point to introduce me to the audience and it was an absolute shock to feel the intense wave of adulation that was coming from the crowd on to the stage. I learnt in that moment just what these big artists have to absorb. It's not for the faint-hearted.

After this show, Serj and I continued to stay in touch and have since worked together on a number of projects; the title track from Between Zero and One, 100 Years (remembering the Armenian, Greek, and Kurdish Genocides in 1915 and after), No Man's Land (in which he contributed an incredible performance in the last section), and one of the tracks on the Covid-times album Last Days of March

One of the several encores from the concert-length show "Between Zero and One" created in collaboration with New Zealand's Strike Percussion.

One of the several encores from the concert-length show "Between Zero and One" created in collaboration with New Zealand's Strike Percussion.

One of the several encores from the concert-length show "Between Zero and One" created in collaboration with New Zealand's Strike Percussion.

Te Papa Fanfare was commissioned for the opening of The Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa. This fanfare, composed for four trumpets, four trombones, and four percussionists, resonated throughout the empty halls of Te Papa, marking the beginning of a new era in New Zealand's cultural landscape.

I say 'empty' because it was a totally unique experience in my life-long sequence of first performances. Gathered outside Te Papa were over 20,000 people, eager to see the insides of this immense new cultural icon. The NZSO performers were assembled up high on the walkways above the inside entrance space, faced by Hamish McKeich who was conducting. The moment arrived and the doors were opened. The fanfare started, and the dignitaries entered first. I calculated that the first eight of them heard the piece. It was over by the time they'd ambled to the stairs. Then everyone else was allowed to come in, as the musicians were packing up. It is the biggest audience that never heard my music.

But, it was recorded; and when the music team for the Athens 2004 Olympics were scouring the world's composers, they came across that recording. Of the 600 composers they listed as potential candidates, they thought I'd be a good fit for writing fanfares for the opening and closing ceremonies. Which I ended up doing, and a lot more.

A 7-minute standalone movement for vibraphone, small metal percussion, and saxophone quartet. Farewell to Flesh is the 2nd of 3 movements from a larger work titled Connectome which embarks on a captivating journey of musical exploration that delves into the intricate neural connections within the human brain. Just as a comprehensive map reveals the intricate wiring of the brain, this composition offers three distinct reflections on the potential futures that the mind's intricate network may lead us to.

In Part 1 - "Pashupatastra (From the Mahabharata)," we draw inspiration from an ancient tale. Arjuna seeks the sacred and formidable weapon, Pashupatastra, which possesses the power to vanquish both man and god. However, he is warned of its uncontrollable nature—the weapon cannot be discarded, returned, or reversed once unleashed. Echoing the spirit of a New Orleans funeral's second line, we contemplate whether we, as humans, have become the ultimate weapon, potentially aiming destruction upon ourselves. Could this be our own funeral march, accompanied by a recognizable yet fragmented melody?

Part 2 - "Farewell to the Flesh," an elegy, contemplates the prospect of achieving complete scans of our neural connections, creating accurate and comprehensive connectomes within our brains and nervous systems. This increasing likelihood raises profound questions about the transition to digital consciousness after death—an immortal existence. Yet, amidst this transformation, we ponder the mourning of our physical, sensual selves. Will emotions still resonate within us as code? Will a well-crafted joke evoke genuine laughter? Can we experience the senses of touch, taste, smell, and hearing? And as digital beings, will our very essence be subject to editing, replication, or the merging of human and artificial intelligence?

In Part 3 - "Rom in Space," we venture further into the future of space travel, imagining a time when all individuals have the freedom to traverse the cosmos. Picture a vibrant community of gypsies and nomads, filling the stars with their energy and creativity. This vision invites us to consider the boundless possibilities and the collective spirit that humanity, and perhaps even our connectomes, could bring to the uncharted realms of outer space.

Arranged here for vibraphone, small metal percussion, and string quartet, Farewell to Flesh is a 7-minute standalone movement of the percussion and sax quartet titled Connectome. Farewell to Flesh, the second and third movements of Connectome, embarks on a captivating journey of musical exploration that delves into the intricate neural connections within the human brain. Just as a comprehensive map reveals the intricate wiring of the brain, this composition offers three distinct reflections on the potential futures that the mind's intricate network may lead us to.

These are the notes for the original saxophone wrok......

In Part 1 - "Pashupatastra (From the Mahabharata)," we draw inspiration from an ancient tale. Arjuna seeks the sacred and formidable weapon, Pashupatastra, which possesses the power to vanquish both man and god. However, he is warned of its uncontrollable nature—the weapon cannot be discarded, returned, or reversed once unleashed. Echoing the spirit of a New Orleans funeral's second line, we contemplate whether we, as humans, have become the ultimate weapon, potentially aiming destruction upon ourselves. Could this be our own funeral march, accompanied by a recognizable yet fragmented melody?

Part 2 - "Farewell to the Flesh," an elegy, contemplates the prospect of achieving complete scans of our neural connections, creating accurate and comprehensive connectomes within our brains and nervous systems. This increasing likelihood raises profound questions about the transition to digital consciousness after death—an immortal existence. Yet, amidst this transformation, we ponder the mourning of our physical, sensual selves. Will emotions still resonate within us as code? Will a well-crafted joke evoke genuine laughter? Can we experience the senses of touch, taste, smell, and hearing? And as digital beings, will our very essence be subject to editing, replication, or the merging of human and artificial intelligence?

In Part 3 - "Rom in Space," we venture further into the future of space travel, imagining a time when all individuals have the freedom to traverse the cosmos. Picture a vibrant community of gypsies and nomads, filling the stars with their energy and creativity. This vision invites us to consider the boundless possibilities and the collective spirit that humanity, and perhaps even our connectomes, could bring to the uncharted realms of outer space.

In 2009, Lumina Productions submitted a proposal to the Smash Palace Fund Selection Panel for Phase One of its project Faustroll.  The project is intended to result in a dramatic production – a theatrical odyssey through some fundamental concepts in modern physics.  The show has a number of levels:

1. the story of Faustroll and his companions, as they undergo a series of adventures and journey from one island to another;
2. spectacular displays of light, water and strange phenomena, that lead us to question what we see, while we share in the fun and excitement;
3. an insight into our understanding of the fundamental nature the universe that has been developed through the 20th century.

Two performances of a pilot presentation of The Extraordinary Adventures of Doctor Faustroll and His Search for the Luminiferous Aether, were given at Stage A at Stone Street Studios in Miramar on 4 March 2010.

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Four Ancient Greek Songs was originally a part of Zeibekiko, conceived as a programme celebrating the heritage of Greek music from antiquity and the present day.

Zeibekiko includes music composed by Manos Achalinotopoulos, Christos Hatzis, Vagelis Karypis and myself. This four-song extract was arranged for the Auckland Chamber Orchestra following an invitation by Peter Scholes.

The four songs are:

Tecmessa's Lament (Anon., adapted from the realisation by the Atrium Musicæ de Madrid)

Song of Seikilos (Seikilos, adapted from the realisation by the Ensemble de Organographia)

First Pythian Ode (Pindar (text) / A. Kircher (music), adapted from the realisation by Petros Tabouris)

Hymn to the Muse (Mesomedes of Crete, adapted from the realisation by Petros Tabouris)

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Instrumentation

Counter-tenor

Female voice Flute (voice)

Cor Anglais (voice)

Clarinet, Bass Clarinet (voice)

2 Trumpets (I=voice)

2 Percussion

2 Double Bass

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This work was originally composed as a piano duet to commemorate the occasion of the retirement of my  first piano teacher, Peter Williams, and appropriately is one of the few of my earlier works suitable for performance by young players.

It is a simple and tranquil meditation in which gently pulsing chords provide hushed support to a delicate melody.

At the time of its composition, I was writing my double concerto for percussion, piano and orchestra, View from Olympus (PE073), and in mood and musical material, Fragment is related to the second movement of that work.

I subsequently added an optional 4th movement (in essence, a specific encore) to View from Olympus. This is the adaptation of Fragment for vibes and piano. Slightly shorter (I removed the 'recapitulation'), it works very well as a way to conclude the epic concerto in a softer, more resolved manner.

It has since also been arranged for Vibraphone and Marimba by percussionist Jeremy Fitzsimons, and Solo Piano by New Zealand pianist Dan Poynton.

This work was originally composed as a piano duet to commemorate the occasion of the retirement of my  first piano teacher, Peter Williams, and appropriately is one of the few of my earlier works suitable for performance by young players.

It is a simple and tranquil meditation in which gently pulsing chords provide hushed support to a delicate melody.

At the time of its composition, I was writing my double concerto for percussion, piano and orchestra, View from Olympus (PE073), and in mood and musical material, Fragment is related to the second movement of that work.

I subsequently added an optional 4th movement (in essence, a specific encore) to View from Olympus. This is the adaptation of Fragment for vibes and piano. Slightly shorter (I removed the 'recapitulation'), it works very well as a way to conclude the epic concerto in a softer, more resolved manner.

It has since also been arranged for Vibraphone and Marimba by percussionist Jeremy Fitzsimons, and Solo Piano by New Zealand pianist Dan Poynton.

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This work was originally composed as a piano duet to commemorate the occasion of the retirement of my  first piano teacher, Peter Williams, and appropriately is one of the few of my earlier works suitable for performance by young players.

It is a simple and tranquil meditation in which gently pulsing chords provide hushed support to a delicate melody.

At the time of its composition, I was writing my double concerto for percussion, piano and orchestra, View from Olympus (PE073), and in mood and musical material, Fragment is related to the second movement of that work.

I subsequently added an optional 4th movement (in essence, a specific encore) to View from Olympus. This is the adaptation of Fragment for vibes and piano. Slightly shorter (I removed the 'recapitulation'), it works very well as a way to conclude the epic concerto in a softer, more resolved manner.

It has since also been arranged for Vibraphone and Marimba by percussionist Jeremy Fitzsimons, and Solo Piano by New Zealand pianist Dan Poynton.

This work was originally composed as a piano duet to commemorate the occasion of the retirement of my  first piano teacher, Peter Williams, and appropriately is one of the few of my earlier works suitable for performance by young players.

It is a simple and tranquil meditation in which gently pulsing chords provide hushed support to a delicate melody.

At the time of its composition, I was writing my double concerto for percussion, piano and orchestra, View from Olympus (PE073), and in mood and musical material, Fragment is related to the second movement of that work.

I subsequently added an optional 4th movement (in essence, a specific encore) to View from Olympus. This is the adaptation of Fragment for vibes and piano. Slightly shorter (I removed the 'recapitulation'), it works very well as a way to conclude the epic concerto in a softer, more resolved manner.

It has since also been arranged for Vibraphone and Marimba by percussionist Jeremy Fitzsimons, and Solo Piano by New Zealand pianist Dan Poynton.

This was my second solo release and was voted Classical Album of the Year at the 2004 Vodafone New Zealand Music Awards. It was an incredible line-up of performers and I realise in retrospect we had so much time to record each piece; something that shows in the results.

Pianist Stephen Gosling returned to Wellington from New York (he had been here a few years earlier recording the Rhythm Spike album, and woudl be here agian a few years later to premiere my piano concerto Three Psalms). His collaboration with percussionist Jeremy Fitzsimons was wonderful, as was the ensemble work with the New Zealand String Quartet,.
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The album starts and ends with two versions of Fragment. The piano and vibes version opens the album and the it finishes with the piano duet version (both parts played by Stephen - with some spooky perfect ensemble telepathy between the overdubs).

Happy Tachyons - a piece that is hardly performed, thanks to it being so close to (if not over) the limit of what is humanly possible - was recorded forensically. Capturing small, perfectly clear and articulated passages. I knew this was probably going to be the only time this piece was every recorded, so I wanted as accurate a representation of of what it should sound and feel like, as possible. It was a kind of torture on Jeremy and Stephen, who wanted to (and could) play much longer passages. But now that I listen to Happy Tachyons I'm glad it exists in this way, in at least one location.

Then there is Piano Quintet (2000), a work that's been described as "reflecting the influences of Pärt, Schnittke, Body, Bach and the music of the Greek Islands". Well, OK. This is a work I love immensely, but it is seldom performed, thanks to the challenges in the string writing - especially in the first movement, where I had thought to reverse the roles and make the strings the rhythmic drivers of the music and have the piano play a more fluid and flowing role. I love this recording, and am grateful to have such a great capture. The NZSQ, long-time supporters of my work, were fantastic. The third movement I wrote when my daughter Zoe was born, and whenever I hear it I can recall looking at her in the cot, as she slept, giggled, cried. There has been no greater magic in my life than those moments with my children.

Then there is the capture of Stephen's incredibly physical and muscular performance of Jettatura. Stephen has an incredible combination of power in his tone, a rhythmic grounding that is beyond classical, and an affinity with music like mine. His recording is one of the great exemplars of this very difficult solo piano work.

The album also features what I consider to be the definitive recording of Matre's Dance (a piece that has had an incredible life in the world thanks to Evelyn Glennie - who wrote "Psathas writes music that is very much of now; it's beautiful, fashionable, successful"). I also put Stephen and Jeremy through the agonising paces of micro-recording with this piece. Awful for them, but I discovered something fascinating; capturing a piece like Matre's Dance in recording where every take is short but is a maximised short energy burst, results in a higher level of performance energy overall when edited together. It's unlikely a live performance, however wild (and they have been really wild) will have this kind of consistent, focused, and highly concentrated energy-level from bar to bar, start to finish.

Steve Garden from Rattle Records engineered and mixed the sessions. It was essentially the 'next Rattle album for Trust Records'. It was weird putting an album out on Trust when I had such a strong relationship with Rattle (with Rattle I went on to create albums including View from Olympus, Ukiyo, White Lies, Helix). The one exception was this album, Fragments. Why be disloyal to Rattle who were immensely supportive of my work? Funding. Rattle weren't able to fund it at the time, and Trust Records could. At that time, in that early part of my journey, I needed the music to be 'out there' and felt I had to go with what was possible sooner rather than later.

Created in 1987, this song (one of 5 created for my Honors portfolio) was the first ever collaboration between myself and David Downes

By the end of 1986 I had completed a Bachelor of Music with a double major in piano performance and composition at Victoria University of Wellington.

My piano teacher had been Judith Clark, and my composition teachers had been Ross Harris, Jack Body, and David Farquhar. Other teachers during my undergraduate years were Margaret Nielsen, Peter Walls, Elizabeth Kerr, Greer Garden, Gavin Saunders, and Alan Thomas.

Although the weakest player in my piano cohort (there were three of us), through a a bizarre sequence of events I, astonishingly to all, ended up top of my year in piano performance (with a B-minus !). It was decided that it would be a great idea for me to continue into postgraduate study....as a composer. It was clear to all I didn't have the necessary relationship to practicing the piano to ever be more than barely mediocre on the instrument.

In my Honors composition year (1987) I asked to for one of the papers to allow for the writing of pop songs (an area in which I had a vast, almost total, lack of experience). I suspect Ross went to bat for me and I was allowed to do it. I was then faced with the problem of having no idea what to actually do, or how to write a song.

I set about refining a poem I had written during my Napier summer job, when I'd been consigned to breaking up a commercial concrete driveway with a sledgehammer at the Wattie's canning factory. It was a long driveway, I was a team of one, and it was a hot summer. Most of the lines begin with "I get so mad...."

I put this to music in a very basic way and asked a fellow student, Hamish Graham, to 'sing' it (I hadn't come up with a melody, and I was - and am - 'singphobic', so couldn't suggest anything to Hamish). Names for this phobia are evolving: Decantophobia, Adophobia, Psallophobia or even karaokephobia!

We got together in the main classroom at music school and started to jam. Me at the piano, Hamish singing, and others playing some kind of beat. A younger student, relatively unbeknownst to me, was quietly there observing. This was David Downes; an immensely - I would easily say profoundly -talented composer, musician, and visual artist. David spoke to me afterwards and said he could feel potential in what we'd been doing there. I was glad to hear it, I was floundering, and out of my depth. He suggested we go to the Electronic Music Studio at 44 Kelburn Parade to try some ideas out.

The studio was legendary in New Zealand. It no longer exists, but I think it might have been the first of its kind in New Zealand (possibly the Southern hemisphere). It was established by Douglas Lilburn when he made his radical shift from orchestral and chamber composition to the newly emerging medium of electronic music. Douglas was one of the early pioneers of this new creative terrain in New Zealand music.

David's first suggestion was to sample slamming doors and turn them into the song's drum track. So we spent an hour or two setting up microphones and started repeatedly and violently slamming the EMS doors, looking for 'just the right sound'.

That day and night David and I created the whole song. We entered a kind of shared flow (the first time I'd ever experienced it). It's been there every one of the times we've worked together (and there have been many). Most of the ideas were David's (at least all the good ones). He suggested I recite the lyrics, and that we drop my voice a few semitones. This seemed to suit the song. And David played the 'guitar' solo on the recently-acquired Emulator II (an absolute leap in music technology at the time). Over the next few years we stretched the Emulator to its limits, so much so that eventually it developed a single (but deeply worrying) glitch; when saving our work, the tiny screen display showed "This Will Take a Whilo....". Made us very nervous.

We eventually went on to make a video of the song which was (amazingly) aired on the main Music Video Program on national television in New Zealand. Link below.

Working with David always felt like privileged time. He brought so much ingenuity, musicality, originality, focus, and humour to our collaborations. In the following years we also created (either just the two of us, or with others):

Silent Partner

Law of Gravity

We Lie Here

This Rhythm

Insight

And two dance shows (with Delia Shanly), created by Michael Parmenter: Go and Venture

Quite some years later we co-created a soundtrack to The High Ride - a high-intensity motion ride at Te Papa's "OurSpace" installation.

Our last major collaboration was in 2010, Faustroll with Joe Bleakely.

Here we are at the entrance to the back of the Electronic Music Studio on Kelburn Parade, Wellington in 1987.

And here's me in the studio kitchen cooking one of my legendary (often near-lethal) fry-ups.....

This is the first of the EP-trilogy from Arjuna and me. We created this in person at Waitarere Beach, New Zealand. The second EP is called Sierra (recorded in Greece) and the third is (at the time of this writing, June 2025) currently being created long-distance as Arjuna lives in London and I'm in Wellington.

I met Arjuna through the Arts Foundation's Springboard mentorship program. Arjuna had proposed me as a possible mentor. Not knowing him (or of him) when the Arts Foundation reached out, I suggested having a conversation before agreeing - I wanted to be sure that this very rare opportunity for a young artist wasn't wasted due to a mis-match with a mentor. We spoke a few times and I felt a connection immediately, and also was encouraged by Arjuna's responses to 'why me?', given I was in a very different genre of music than he was.

We started by my sitting with Arjuna as he played me some of the songs he was working on and me giving whatever feedback I thought might be useful. This went well. At the same time I was working on a collaborative album project with Jack Hooker, This was eventually released as the It'a Already Tomorrow album. I suggested to Arjuna that we create a song together for it. I sent him a very bare sketch of a chord progression (that happened to be in 11/8). He sent me back something absolutely incredible. We developed it a bit, and asked Hayden Chisholm at add saxophone layers, and our first ever collaboration was born: Unlearn.

So we decided to start writing songs together. We planned some time out at Waitarere Beach, with no plan or defined goal.

The way I remember it is; Arjuna would find his way to the piano and start exploring. I would sit in a chair in the same room and listen. Every now and then one of us would go 'ooh' in response to something Arjuna would play and we'd backtrack. We'd start shaping and refining a 'nugget', and I'd start suggesting various things like reversing a progression or substituting a one chord for another. We fell into a very easy way of developing ideas and fleshing them out. Eventually thinking this might be a verse, or this might be a bridge. Maybe it ends like this.

What I remember is how incredibly fast Arjuna was; his ability to absorb new ideas, versions, transformations, and internalise them immediately so we could move on. We hardly wrote anything down. We then moved into the main room where the synths and microphones were setup. We'd create a Logic session and Arjuna would play the material he'd been assembling on the upright piano, into Logic via the Nord.

Once we had the structure, we started layering; on this EP mostly through synths. Arjuna is a wizard at getting great sounds (quickly) on analog synths, and also at performing them expressively. A great example of this is the first few minutes of Breaking a Fold. These patches, unique and tailored to each song's essence, were never saved. Totally ephemeral.

And then came the vocals. I have a great visual memory of recording Arjuna singing with the doors wide open, looking out at the ocean and the horizon.

When it came to lyrics, we developed an interesting pattern. Arjuna would stand far away from me and create lyric ideas from pure instinct and feeling. I would write down what I thought I heard him singing, applying my own semantic logic to make sense of what I thought he was saying. This was often totally different from the words he was actually singing. Then I'd give him what I'd written and he would sing that and respond to it, changing it, or mis-reading, or taking it somewhere else that felt better. In this way we intuitively found our way to what each song was about. Incredible that it works as a process.

We ended up with four songs. All of which I love. We then approached Callum Mower, aka Serebii, to mix the tracks, and our beautiful EP Future Lullaby was born.

Buy album on BandCamp

Galileo Meets Copernicus is a collaborative work that brings together the visionary choreography of Tarek Assam and many of the works that defined my early career. This multidimensional composition takes the audience on a captivating journey through a fusion of movement and sound. Each piece of music intricately weaves together with the choreography, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of emotions and narratives. From the fiery intensity of "Inferno (from Three Psalms)" to the rhythmic complexity of "Drum Dances mvmt 2," and the ethereal beauty of "Motet," the music of Galileo Meets Copernicus serves as a vital force that drives the momentum and expression of the dance. The works, performed by esteemed musicians such as Michael Houstoun, Stephen Gosling, and the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Marc Taddei, showcase a rich and diverse sonic palette that enhances the visual storytelling on stage. The spectacle extends beyond music and dance, with Lukas Noll's set and costume design, Manfred Wende's lighting, and Christian Steingbock's dramaturgy adding layers of visual and conceptual depth to the performance. Through the intricate interplay of movement, music, set, lighting, and dramaturgy, Galileo Meets Copernicus invites the audience to explore profound themes and ideas, transcending the boundaries of space and time. Its premiere on October 8, 2011, at the prestigious GroBes Haus in Berlin marked a significant moment in the intersection of music, dance, and theatrical artistry. With a talented ensemble of dancers, including Alaina Flores, Clementine Herveux, Sydney Minton Green, and Christopher Basile, among others, the performance came to life, embodying the spirit and brilliance of the visionary minds it celebrates—Galileo and Copernicus.

Through the synergy of music, movement, and theatrical elements, Galileo Meets Copernicus immerses audiences in an unforgettable sensory experience that celebrates the beauty of human expression and the boundless possibilities of artistic collaboration.

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This production not only offers an impressive overview of the musical and technical skills of drummer Fabian Ziegler, but also makes clear where the musical focus lies. This new recording contains works by Steve Reich, John Psathas and Iannis Xenakis and he is accompanied by Akvile Sileikaite and Benjamin Engelie on Piano, with Luca Staffelbach on vibraphone. The title of the album Gods, Rhythms, Human came about through the recorded works, in which thematic echoes of ancient and modern Greece come to life again and again.

Good for Nothing marks a significant milestone in my career as it is my first-ever feature film score (talk about being dropped in the deep end!). This immersive Western film, directed by Mike Wallis, provided me with a unique opportunity to delve into the world of cinematic storytelling through music. Working closely with the talented team of producers, director, and actors, including Mike Wallis and Inge Rademeyer who are now lifelong friends, I embarked on an exhilarating creative journey that left an indelible mark on my artistic path.

Set in the American West, Good for Nothing follows the compelling story of Isabella Montgomery, a refined English woman forced to journey to her uncle's ranch following the death of her father. However, her life takes an unexpected turn when she is kidnapped by an outlaw during the escort. Though faced with peril and danger, Isabella's resilience shines through as she navigates the treacherous landscape of the Wild West. My score sought to capture the essence of this gripping narrative, evoking the rugged beauty and raw emotions inherent in the Western genre. From the sweeping vistas to the intense moments of tension and the delicate blossoming of a forbidden love, the music served as a powerful companion, heightening the film's impact and immersing the audience in its world. Good for Nothing garnered critical acclaim and recognition, with the film and director Mike Wallis earning a place in Leonard Maltin's esteemed list of 'Fifty Notable Debut Features of the Past Twenty Years' in his best-selling book, Leonard Maltin's Movie Guide. The film's premiere at the Santa Barbara Film Festival in January 29 2011, marked a significant moment, introducing audiences to a captivating blend of Western grit and cinematic artistry. As the story unfolds, the complexities of the characters and their relationships are brought to life, thanks in part to the evocative score. The dynamic interplay between light and dark, love and violence, and honor and betrayal provided me with a rich tapestry of emotions to translate into music. Each cue served as a sonic thread, weaving together the fabric of this enthralling tale. Good for Nothing invites viewers to embark on an immersive journey, transcending time and place. It is a testament to the power of collaboration and the combined efforts of the cast, crew, and musicians.

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Sebastian Doyle's short film based on Fantasia's Sorcerer's Apprentice (with a NZ spin). I created a 'raga' of sorts then reworked Paul Dukas' original score The Sorcerer's Apprentice - this time for sitar, tablas, and orchestra! The orchestra in this soundtrack is the Victoria Univeristy of Wellington Orchestra, conducted by Peter Walls. Violin solo, - Douglas Beilman. Percussion - Duncan Rae. Sitar, synths and other percussion (as well as studio engineering and general creativity) - David Downes.

This work for solo violin is expressive and virtuosic. Gyftiko, which translates as “gypsy-like”, was commissioned for the 2011 Michael Hill International Violin Competition. The first prize winner was Russian violinist Sergey Malov, who has since performed Gyftiko on tour in New Zealand. The work was written for performers to express individual style as well as demonstrate technical command of the violin. It has an improvisatory quality with exciting technical features including: portamenti, fast rhythmic and melismatic lines, left-hand pizzicato and double-stops.

(Apparently….) “Gyftiko reveals Psathas’ unique musical voice. He brings together influences from Eastern Europe Greece and the Middle-East. Much is packed into this five-minute work for solo violin. It is perfect for players at the top of their game who want to exhilarate audiences with virtuosic flare.”

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Halo is duet for cello and piano (and subtle, subliminal audio) commissioned by Ian Graham and Agi Lehar-Graham for Katherine Austin and James Tennant. Incorporating subtle and subliminal audio elements, the first movement, titled "Red Halo," creates an atmospheric soundscape where the resonance of the piano intertwines with electronic textures. This serves as a mesmerizing backdrop for the cello, allowing it to deliver moody and improvisation-like statements that evoke a range of emotions. As the music progresses into the second movement, "Stacia," the piano takes on a flowing ostinato, providing a foundation for the cello to express itself through melodic lines that sing with grace. Throughout this movement, subtle shifts in texture and mood unfold, enhancing the depth and complexity of the composition. The final movement, "Angelus," intensifies the sonic journey with a manic energy. Dissonant chords collide with bursts of frenzied melodicism, creating a climactic and exhilarating finale. This movement explores the extremes of musical expression, engaging the listener with its powerful dynamics and intricate interplay between piano and cello.

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Originally a duet for cello and piano (and subtle, subliminal audio) and arranged here for piano and percussion, Halo was commissioned by Ian Graham and Agi Lehar-Graham for Katherine Austin and James Tennant. Incorporating subtle and subliminal audio elements, the first movement, titled "Red Halo," creates an atmospheric soundscape where the resonance of the piano intertwines with electronic textures. This serves as a mesmerizing backdrop for the cello, allowing it to deliver moody and improvisation-like statements that evoke a range of emotions. As the music progresses into the second movement, "Stacia," the piano takes on a flowing ostinato, providing a foundation for the cello to express itself through melodic lines that sing with grace. Throughout this movement, subtle shifts in texture and mood unfold, enhancing the depth and complexity of the composition. The final movement, "Angelus," intensifies the sonic journey with a manic energy. Dissonant chords collide with bursts of frenzied melodicism, creating a climactic and exhilarating finale. This movement explores the extremes of musical expression, engaging the listener with its powerful dynamics and intricate interplay between piano and cello.

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Ronny Ferella (drum set) and Adam Page (saxophone). I supplied two pages of ideas and they did everything else.

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Happy Tachyons, commissioned by Dame Evelyn Glennie, pushes the boundaries of technical prowess for the percussionist. Written with exuberance and high spirits, this vibrant work showcases the interplay between the twinkling, bright vibraphone and the resonant depths of the marimba. It demands the percussionist to navigate passages that require simultaneous performance on both instruments, creating a captivating and dynamic musical experience. Throughout Happy Tachyons, melodic bursts from the vibraphone alternate with the rich, woody tones of the marimba, creating contrasting textures and captivating melodies. The percussive lines, executed with flair, skate incessantly over a heavily syncopated piano accompaniment, adding an energetic and rhythmic drive to the composition. I composed Happy Tachyons as my wife Carla and I were eagerly anticipating the arrival of our first child, Emanuel. The joyous and spirited nature of this piece reflects the anticipation and excitement surrounding his impending birth, infusing the music with a sense of celebration and anticipation.

A recording of Happy Tachyons, performed by Jeremy Fitzsimons on percussion and Stephen Gosling on piano, is available on the Trust Records CD Fragments (MMT2047). It captures the technical virtuosity and vibrant energy that define this composition, showcasing the remarkable abilities of the performers.

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The Harvest, is a co-composition between Adam Page and myself comprised of two suites. The Harvest Suite features Adam on solo tenor saxophone played through various looping pedals and effects, while Like Picking Fruit is a duet with James Brown on guitar. Adam demonstrates his virtuosity on the tenor saxophone, utilizing looping pedals and effects to create mesmerizing layers of sound. Both suites are a deft, and at times near-invisible blending of composition and improvisation, and together they produce an album of rare honesty.  "I spent our studio time in awe of James and Adam. Listening to them go into those remote unchartered territories during the recording of Like Picking Fruit was something I'll never forget. They'd come out of the studio with a look in their eyes like explorers returning from months in the wilderness. And what a unique piece it is, rich and ingenious, fearless and uncompromising, but mostly, phenomenally musical.

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BEST CLASSICAL ALBUM finalist 2011 | Available to DOWNLOAD or as a PRINT-ON-DEMAND CD

Helix was inspired by an eclectic range of musical interests and takes the listener on a millennia-leaping journey from the ancient Mediterranean to a hazy Indonesian sunset via a frenzied 18th-century Italian dance and dub-step beats from present-day South East London.

Featuring Donald Nicolson (piano), NZ String Quartet, and NZTrio

Production by John Psathas, Recorded by Steve Garden, Edited and mixed by John Psathas and Steve Garden, Photography by Keith Hill, Design by UnkleFranc

All music published by Promethean Editions

The project was recorded with support from Victoria University New Zealand School of Music

Helix a paino trio commissioned by the New Zealand Trio (Justine Cormack, Ashley Brown, Sarah Watkins) with funding from the University of Auckland, was inspired by an eclectic range of musical interests and takes the listener on a millennia-leaping journey from the ancient Mediterranean to a hazy Indonesian sunset via a frenzied 18th-century Italian dance and dub-step beats from present-day South East London. I went to quite a far place in terms of rhythm with Helix, but not necessarily in terms of time signatures and cross rhythms. Prior to writing Helix, I had been transcribing a lot of folk music from countries such as Bulgaria, Greece, Turkey and Egypt because I really wanted to understand what it is that makes the soloist’s lines so amazing – what is the magic there? One of the things I figured out through transcription is that these expressive melodies that have sensuality and human earthiness about them tend to accelerate going into the centre of a phrase and slow down when coming out of it. I have applied this playing style in Helix

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One of the works/movements from the concert-length show "Between Zero and One" created in collaboration with New Zealand's Strike Percussion.

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An innovative e-book scoring collaboration with Salman Rushdie.

Infinite Mind (2023) - for marimba and audio

Duration 12:25

Part 1:Terminal (5:10)

Part 2: Noam(7:15)

Commissioned by, and dedicated to, Justin DeHart

Made possible with funding fromCreative New Zealand

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The recorded voice in Infinite Mind is that of Noam Chomsky, taken from an interview in 2023 when he was 94 years old. It is a chilling interview covering many imminent threats to human civilization, with a deep focus on the underlying need for recognizing the truth of our situation. But it is also moving and inspiring, as toward the end the interviewer manages to draw him out a little and have him talk (somewhat reluctantly) about his personal life.

In the first part, Terminal, we hear about one of the two most most dire threats facing us now; nuclear war.

In the second part, Noam, we alternate between descriptions of one of the most dangerous people currently alive, and Chomsky reminiscing about some of the most miraculous moments in his own life. The space between these two polarities, a kind of yin and yang of our potential as human beings, is the space where most of us exist.

Chomsky’s voice is suspended over an eloquent and often energized solo marimba, both woven around, and within, an enhancing audio track.

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Part 1

The Doomsday clock was set in 1947,

shortly after the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

At that point it was seven minutes to midnight.

A couple of years later in 1952 (it) moved to two minutes to midnight,

when the United States and Russia exploded thermonuclear weapons

showing that human intelligence had advanced (if that’s the right word)

to the point where it could destroy everything.

Later the analysts abandoned minutes altogether and moved to seconds.

It’s now set at ninety seconds to midnight.

It’s set in January, I presume it’ll move still forward to midnight.

We’re now facing questions that have never arisen in human history.

They will have to be answered soon or else we’re essentially finished.

One, of course, is the threat of nuclear war, which is growing both in Europe and in Asia.

The other is the inexorable march toward climate destruction.

We have a couple of decades in which to deal with it.

Methods are pretty well known.

If we don’t pursue them we will pass irreversible tipping points,

And there’ll be a steady decline to undescribable catastrophe.

That’s where we stand now.

The morally correct stance is to prevent it from happening.

It should be understood that a war between nuclear powers is inconceivable.

It means termination.

If a country (major nuclear power) carries out a first strike,

it itself is likely to be destroyed.

Even if there’s no retaliation.

These are not conceivable possibilities.

But top strategists are talking about them

And planning for them.

This is beyond insanity.

The first thing we do is try to be clear about the facts.

I would like to describe the world situation as it is.

I would suggest distinguishing between Western propaganda and the facts.

Dan (Daniel Ellsberg) tried very hard to try to bring the world to understand

the hideous threats of terminal nuclear war that are right on the verge.

And if you look over the history of the nuclear system

it’s kind of a miracle that we’ve survived.

Living with case after case which came very close, very close, much too close,

To moving on to terminal destruction.

Part 2

If he runs again it’ll be a disaster for the world for many reasons.

For one thing, as you saw during his first time, he has two commitments.

One commitment is to himself. He’s a megalomaniac, a psychopath.

All that concerns him is “me”.

The other commitment is to serve corporate power and great wealth.

Abjectly

Some moments are almost miraculous.

Like the birth of my first child.

There are many others like it.

But I don’t see much point in talking about my personal life and situation.

There are more important things in the world.

But he is a major climate denialist.

He denies that global warming is taking place.

He wants to maximise the use of fossil fuels, including the most dangerous of them.

And to eliminate regulations which might mitigate the catastrophe.

That’s a death sentence for the human species.

Domestically, he’s made it very clear he wants to institute a proto-fascist state.

Eliminate the civil service, replace it by loyalists.

That undercuts what remains of functioning democracy.

It would a colossal disaster. And it’s not unlikely.

How is this miracle possible?

With a finite number of symbols to produce an infinite number of thoughts,

and even use these symbols to allow others access to the inner workings of our minds?

How is it possible?

There definitely is an attack on freedom of speech.

Even freedom to read.

Imposed regulations, laws which make it illegal to teach authentic history.

You have to teach a kind of history which glorifies.

Nothing about what actually happened.

Libraries are being forced to throw out books.

There’s laws passed to say there are topics you’re not allowed to talk about.

This is invented as a way to destroy teaching history, teaching gender issues.

Does anybody know?

Q. If you could write your own heading on your own tombstone,

“Here lies Noam Chomsky, he…”

What would you like the rest of that sentence to say?

A. He tried his best

Thank you very much

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Irirangi (a meditation) for Flute, Taonga Pūoro and Tape was commissioned by and dedicated to Bridget Douglas and Alistair Fraser.

In Williams Dictionary, under Irirangi, is a quotation originally obtained from Elsdon Best “Mehemea ka waiata tatou ki roto I irirangi tena (If we are singing in the house and a voice is heard singing outside, a spirit-voice, that is Irirangi).” "Te Rangi Hirta remarked casually that the people when singing together often thought they heard a floating voice, or spirit voice singing with them; they called it Irirangi. It was a chance remark but I remembered it when, at Whareponga, I first heard, as it were, a faint voice sounding above the voices of the women singing. I asked Hon. A.T. Ngata wha was present, if the faint voice, to which I drew attention, was what they called Irirangi; he said, Yes; and soon one of the women who also must have heard it, raised her pitch and sang the same note as the faint voice.” (Johannes Anderson) "So too in instrumental music is Irirangi (or rangirua) sought after. My sense is that a range of whistling, multi phonic, drone and overtone sounds were the ones being looked for in this important area of instrument-playing." (Richard Nunns) Thanks to Grant Finlay at naturesounds.co.nz (opening and closing Aroha Island Crickets) Tim Prebble (rain), David Downes (birds), and Dave Whitehead (Pureora dawn chorus).

The bird recordings in this piece are symbolic and functional in a number of ways. In a number of places I found recordings that contribute to the sense of seeking within the piece. In the opening and the ending there are foregrounded bird calls (E natural) surrounded by more distant calls (almost memories of birds) on very faint F#’s. Given the piece is in G, and a lot of the flute's part is around the F and F natural, there is an underlying ‘aspiration' throughout most of the piece of trying to reach home (G) - I equate this, symbolically, to trying to break through the veil between the netherworld/afterlife and the one we live in. This is why I’ve included the word Meditation in the title. I’ve tried to evoke the sense of sitting and listening to the natural world and reaching out from within to hear the hidden voices around us. I've tried to blur the boundaries between the two performers. I was encouraged when Bridget and Alistair both responded with a comment about not being sure who was doing what in the demo recording. For example, after the Taonga Puoro has moved from the stones to the Putorino; the flautist continues playing a busy multi-phonic, which has sonic artefacts that are reminiscent of the stones. It feels like the stones are still being played, or that some of the voice of the stones has entered the flute. I find these moments unique and powerful.

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Island Songs originally written for clarinet, violoncello, and piano, consists of three movements inspired by various Greek dance styles and was commissioned by the Kandinsky Ensemble. Rather than aiming to directly represent these dance forms, I intended Island Songs to reflect my personal response to the inherent energy they possess. In 1999, upon the request of the Ogen Trio, I created an alternate arrangement of Island Songs for piano trio (PE075) which was my first ever piano trio. The first movement involves a number of styles and reflects what I perceive as the latent energy in much of this music — although here this energy only surfaces from time to time. The second is a reaction to the great strength of the zeibekiko dance, which is in 9/4 time, and often extremely slow. While not cast in the same time frame as a true zeibekiko, this movement does dwell upon the uncertainty of the downbeat and the intensely focused emotional content of this dance. The third movement is much in the style of the sirto dance, whose energy is always lively and unfailingly contagious.

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Island Songs originally written for clarinet, violoncello, and piano, consists of three movements inspired by various Greek dance styles and was commissioned by the Kandinsky Ensemble. Rather than aiming to directly represent these dance forms, I intended Island Songs to reflect my personal response to the inherent energy they possess. In 1999, upon the request of the Ogen Trio, I created an alternate arrangement of Island Songs for piano trio (PE075) which was my first ever piano trio. The first movement involves a number of styles and reflects what I perceive as the latent energy in much of this music — although here this energy only surfaces from time to time. The second is a reaction to the great strength of the zeibekiko dance, which is in 9/4 time, and often extremely slow. While not cast in the same time frame as a true zeibekiko, this movement does dwell upon the uncertainty of the downbeat and the intensely focused emotional content of this dance. The third movement is much in the style of the sirto dance, whose energy is always lively and unfailingly contagious.

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The It's Already Tomorrow project was curated and produced by John Psathas and Jack Hooker, funded through Creative New Zealand’s COVID-19 Arts Continuity Grant. Our many thanks to them for making this project possible. All tracks mixed at Surgery Studios by Lee Prebble, except ‘Sappho’, mixed by Matthew Gunn Mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege. Cover Artwork by Daniel Blackball.

Originally a great test for advanced pianists, Jettatura is a moto perpetuo, and another example of a high-energy work arranged here for percussion duo by Omar Carmenates

For a country that is home to me in so many ways, Greece has not been so kind to this particular absent son. Practically every journey I have made there has left me with a permanent reminder of some unpleasant and often bizarre experience. From donkey bites to the groin, to motorbike accidents on the island of Santorini, to a protracted, salmonella-induced weight loss that would have made Jenny Craig’s eyes water, it is not surprising that members of my family there began to imagine I had fallen under the influence of someone’s evil eye.

An expedition to Greece in 1998 brought an unprecedented onslaught of bad luck, this time involving my wife and son. My dear, concerned, sister went to the village-expert in such matters to discover if I was inflicted with the evil eye (also known as mal occhio, or jettatura). Jettatura is the ancient belief that the gaze of strangers casts unwanted magic into the lives of the innocent . The belief is that a person — otherwise not malefic in any way — can harm you, your children, your livestock, merely by looking at them with envy and praising them. The soothsayer, when checking my aura by long distance (these days such matters can of course, be conducted over the phone via free-call numbers), gasped, went silent, and declared I was so heavily and completely hexed that my halo was utterly opaque.

In Greece there is a talisman one can wear, or place in a car, house, or shop, which protects against the evil eye (in some countries, one must protect oneself against false compliments by spitting on the person who proffers the compliment). This talisman is in the form of a glass blue eye, a ‘good eye’. Jettatura, written upon returning from Greece, is my talisman, my good eye.

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A great test for advanced pianists, Jettatura is a moto perpetuo, and another example of a high-energy work. Requiring heavy and impassioned fingering, Jettatura is shot through with defiance and aggression. The left hand insists with a stream of ostinatos while the right hand flies almost incautiously over the keys, stretching to the piano’s upper register.

For a country that is home to me in so many ways, Greece has not been so kind to this particular absent son. Practically every journey I have made there has left me with a permanent reminder of some unpleasant and often bizarre experience. From donkey bites to the groin, to motorbike accidents on the island of Santorini, to a protracted, salmonella-induced weight loss that would have made Jenny Craig’s eyes water, it is not surprising that members of my family there began to imagine I had fallen under the influence of someone’s evil eye.

An expedition to Greece in 1998 brought an unprecedented onslaught of bad luck, this time involving my wife and son. My dear, concerned, sister went to the village-expert in such matters to discover if I was inflicted with the evil eye (also known as mal occhio, or jettatura). Jettatura is the ancient belief that the gaze of strangers casts unwanted magic into the lives of the innocent . The belief is that a person — otherwise not malefic in any way — can harm you, your children, your livestock, merely by looking at them with envy and praising them. The soothsayer, when checking my aura by long distance (these days such matters can of course, be conducted over the phone via free-call numbers), gasped, went silent, and declared I was so heavily and completely hexed that my halo was utterly opaque.

In Greece there is a talisman one can wear, or place in a car, house, or shop, which protects against the evil eye (in some countries, one must protect oneself against false compliments by spitting on the person who proffers the compliment). This talisman is in the form of a glass blue eye, a ‘good eye’. Jettatura, written upon returning from Greece, is my talisman, my good eye.

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Jupiter and Venus is a modest musical reflection on the cosmic forces embodied in the Juno-Jupiter-Venus (or Hera-Zeus-Aphrodite) love/power triangle, with its energies forever oscillating between stability, power and passion.

The infamous love triangle originates from ancient mythology and has been a rich source of provocative artistic depictions. Zeus is traditionally represented by planet Jupiter. Zeus and Hera (associated with the protection of marriage, childbirth and life in general) became the king and the queen of Olympus and ruled all other Olympian gods.

Venus (or Aphrodite in ancient Greek culture) embodies the principles of beauty, passion and attraction through desire, and holds the keys to passion, beauty and the principle of human creativity in the broadest meaning.

During my first ever experience of the night sky above Lake Tekapo (in the South Island of New Zealand) I was inspired by what was dubbed a celestial “kiss,” in which Jupiter and Venus appeared to nearly touch after drawing magically closer to each other in the night sky throughout February.

Kartsigar a string quartet commissioned by the Wellington Chamber Music Society with financial support from Creative New Zealand explores the rich traditions of Greek music, drawing from the improvisatory nature of taximi and the virtuosity of master musicians such as Manos and Vagelis. Through the fusion of these elements and the unique language of the string quartet, Psathas creates a captivating musical experience that showcases the expressive possibilities of the ensemble.

Koolish Zein is an orchestra-less concerto written for  Michael Burritt. In place of the symphony orchestra is a percussion quartet and a track of richly layered audio. The soloist is the  storyteller from start to finish, navigating an ever-changing terrain of dynamic textures and grooves. The three parts of Koolish Zein each look to evoke resonances of an imagined future. Her Alchemy emerges from women’s voices transformed digitally within the software Alchemy. London Busking 2149 imagines what it might be like busking at Trafalgar Square some 125 years from now, evoked with the sound of flying vehicles coming and going, the loose quality of the music, and a duet with a passing robotic improvisor. The up-tempo Trimetrical Hub (an anagram of Michael Burritt) begins in a Macedonian dance rhythm of 17/8 (4+6+7) and eventually transforms into a high-spirited groove inspired by a 6/8 Moroccan wedding dance.

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Kyoto, premiered by the Ju Percussion Group in Taiwan City on May 20, 2011, was commissioned by the group for the Taipei International Percussion Convention. Departing from my earlier intense and physically demanding percussion compositions, such as Drum Dances and Etude from One Study One Summary, Kyoto shares stylistic similarities with his marimba concerto Djinn. The piece maintains a constant rhythmic semiquaver pulse that drives the momentum, transitioning through varying time signatures and punctuated by moments of silence that give rise to shifts in harmonic content. Two contrasting ideas, rhythmically driven melodic lines and vibraphone arpeggios, alternate before converging in a climactic moment. The title of the work is inspired by a 1976 improvisation by pianist Keith Jarrett recorded in Kyoto, which served as a transformative catalyst for my journey as a composer.

A quartet for two pianos and two percussinists: “La Cuna”.

This music is not the high-octane virtuosic style that I’m generally known for. I put time into refining these three movements and making them as transparent as possible. I’ve also tried to give all instruments space to sound and be appreciated for their individual timbres.

These were new challenges for me - allowing space, avoiding gratuitous spectacle and virtuosity, and allowing breathing room in each part so that each member of the ensemble has the possibility of enjoying their companions’ parts, while performing their own.

There is a Soundcloud playlist with the demo audio here: 

The work was commissioned by a consortium of musicians areound the world:

Airi Neudorfer

Alessandro di Giulio

Beth Chen, Jeremy Fitzsimons, Nicole Chao, and Naoto Segawa

Corey Hamm

Edoardo Giachino

Huizi Wang

John Parks

Lukas Bohm

Maria Asteriadou

Scott Herring

Twincussion

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Leviathan was commissioned as part of the Beethoven Pastoral Project. This initiative by the UN Climate Change and BTHVN2020, was dedicated to promoting action on climate change and the environment during the 250th anniversary year of Beethoven’s birth. The Declaration was formally launched on 5 June 2020, which is the UN World Environment Day. It was presented to the world’s governments by the Secretary-General of the United Nations later that year. The declaration includes the following statement: “We, musicians, artists and creatives of planet Earth, offer our artistic and musical creativity, and our own actions, as signs of our determination to be part of the solutions to current planetary challenges. We want to inspire and be part of that change. We stand with humanity and with Nature.”

LEARN MORE ABOUT THE DECLARATION HERE

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One of the great collaborations of my journey. Kia Kaha Warren, Joe, Rick, and Tom.

Little Bushman

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Luminous was one of the “Fanfares for a New Millennium” commissioned by the Auckland Philharmonia from 11 New Zealand composers in 1998.

A reviewer at the premiere performance wrote: “This is music suspended in space, existing for its texture only. It locks a continuous event in stillness by eliminating attack and abrupt change. Rhythm and melody are eliminated and replaced by long and sustained chord shifts achieved through clever dovetailing of single notes, tone colours and dynamics.”

When I was invited to write a fanfare for the new millennium I inevitably found myself considering the last 1000 years. For me, the single most striking feature of human history during the last millennium has been the increase in travel and the settling in foreign lands of smaller and smaller groups. In the distant past, an entire race of people would slowly traverse one continent. Today, an individual, in the space of a few days, is able to completely uproot from their homeland and settle in a country on the other side of the world.

A friend of mine, Pan, moved to New Zealand from China. For her, the pressure to integrate two very different sets of beliefs proved ultimately overwhelming. This work is dedicated to her memory.

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MANTIS: the music of Drew Menzies
2014 JAZZ ALBUM OF THE YEAR finalist

While these recordings are by no means definitive, they are an example of the openness of Drew’s writing, and a fine expression of the respect and enthusiasm with which his music is regarded by the assembled musicians and arrangers. Reuben’s vision for this project was so infectious that each collaborator was willing to freely support the project, and the results speak for themselves – warm, lucid, generous performances, captured and presented with great affection and skill.

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This high-energy piece for percussion and piano is the work that launched my international career, thanks to Evelyn Glennie championing the piece and performing it hundreds of times around the world in the 1990's. It was first played by her in the Michael Fowler Centre in Wellington with pianist Philip Smith at the 1992 NZ International Festival of the Arts.

Matre's Dance was commissioned by Jack Body and originally premiered by David Guerin and Bruce McKinnon in the Adam Concert Room at Victoria University of Wellington. The first recording of the work is on the inaugural Rattle Records album Different Tracks. Matre's Dance is also one of the only pieces of mine that I've actually played. You can see a low-res video of me and percussionist Murray Hickman, performing the work in 1994: part 1, part 2.

There are many recordings of the piece now, including Evelyn Glennie's Drumming and Greatest Hits. My favourite recording so far is with Stephen Gosling and Jeremy Fitzsimmons.

The title actually confuses two characters in the Frank Herbert Dune series. When writing the program note I was thinking of the Honored Matre's in the 5th and 6th books of the series, whereas the dance I remembered from the books was actually danced by the character Sheena;

Slowly, not wanting to arouse the prostrate priests, Sheeana began the shuffling, unrhythmic movements of the dance. As the remembered music grew within her, she unclasped her hands and swung her arms wide. Her feet lifted high in the stately movements. Her body turned, slowly at first and then more swiftly as the dance ecstasy increased. Her long brown hair whipped around her face. The priests excluded from their attention all except the child. Not the slightest quickly repeatable rhythm entered her movements. There was rhythm but it was an admirably long beat, at least a hundred steps apart. She kept it up while the sun lifted higher and higher. It was almost noon before she fell exhausted to the sand.

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Arranged here for solo percussion and mallet quartet by Omar Carmenates, this high-energy piece originally for percussion and piano is the work that launched my international career, thanks to Evelyn Glennie championing the piece and performing it hundreds of times around the world in the 1990's. It was first played by her in the Michael Fowler Centre in Wellington with pianist Philip Smith at the 1992 NZ International Festival of the Arts.

Matre's Dance was commissioned by Jack Body and originally premiered by David Guerin and Bruce McKinnon in the Adam Concert Room at Victoria University of Wellington. The first recording of the work is on the inaugural Rattle Records album Different Tracks. Matre's Dance is also one of the only pieces of mine that I've actually played. You can see a low-res video of me and percussionist Murray Hickman, performing the work in 1994: part 1, part 2.

There are many recordings of the piece now, including Evelyn Glennie's Drumming and Greatest Hits. My favourite recording so far is with Stephen Gosling and Jeremy Fitzsimmons.

The title actually confuses two characters in the Frank Herbert Dune series. When writing the program note I was thinking of the Honored Matre's in the 5th and 6th books of the series, whereas the dance I remembered from the books was actually danced by the character Sheena;

Slowly, not wanting to arouse the prostrate priests, Sheeana began the shuffling, unrhythmic movements of the dance. As the remembered music grew within her, she unclasped her hands and swung her arms wide. Her feet lifted high in the stately movements. Her body turned, slowly at first and then more swiftly as the dance ecstasy increased. Her long brown hair whipped around her face. The priests excluded from their attention all except the child. Not the slightest quickly repeatable rhythm entered her movements. There was rhythm but it was an admirably long beat, at least a hundred steps apart. She kept it up while the sun lifted higher and higher. It was almost noon before she fell exhausted to the sand.

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Mentacide, commissioned by Shaun Tilburg and published by Pocket Publications, is for solo snare drum(s) and digital audio, with the accompanying text drawing inspiration from Henry Giroux's 'The Violence of Organized Forgetting: Thinking Beyond America's Disimagination Machine.'

The score and performance audio is available here: Mentacide Score

A performance video (by David Downes) is also available. This spells out (literally) the words that are being generated in the digital audio. The video is available for download form the store on this website here: MENTACIDE PERFORMANCE VIDEO

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