We begin with Emily Howard, composer and Chair of the Classical Council, who speaks about her path into composing, the power of collaboration, and the urgent need to protect music and creativity in the UK.
What was your big break – or the moment that set you on the path to today?
I’d say a big break came in 2007, when I wrote Magnetite – a 10-minute orchestral piece for the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, commissioned for the opening of Liverpool’s year as European Capital of Culture. I’d studied at the Royal Northern College of Music and had some of my music played there, which led to a piece for the RLPO’s ensemble 10/10 in 2005. That was broadcast on BBC Radio 3, which meant more people heard it, And then, with Capital of Culture coming up, I got the call. The piece was programmed alongside Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, which was very scary at the time! It’s been performed widely since, which makes me proud. That was probably the first time I felt like a professional composer.
Were there early relationships or collaborations that helped build your confidence?
Yes – all of them! And my advice to emerging composers is always that you have to make opportunities, not just wait for them. Work with people who want to work with you. Find performers, collaborate and learn by hearing your music played. That could be a solo violinist or a larger group, but the key thing is building relationships.
Which relationships have stayed with you over time?
I’ve had several meaningful relationships with orchestras that feel very personal. Different orchestras have their own sound and feel. Knowing an ensemble well, how the instrumentalists play, changes how I write for them. It becomes a personal dialogue with the group.
The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic has been central to my development – I wrote a Proms piece for them called Torus which later won a British Composer Award (now The Ivors Classical Awards) in 2017.
I’ve also worked closely with the Piatti String Quartet, who’ve performed several of my works, and with singers Claire Booth and Hugh Cutting. I wrote for their voices in Elliptics, with poet Michael Symmons Roberts – a longtime collaborator. Writing for someone specific means listening closely, getting to know their range and qualities, and composing in a way that brings out their individuality.
Do you find your writing changes when someone new performs an existing piece?
Absolutely. You write with someone in mind, but when someone else performs it, they bring something new. That influences how I think about future work. I’m always learning from performances.
What do you do to stay creative – or get unstuck?
When I’m really deep in a project, I need to step away from everything. Half the year I’m teaching in my role at RNCM, travelling, going to concerts, seeing people – and the other half I retreat completely. I hike, I read, I spend time alone. I need that space to think and create. It’s a rhythm that works for me.
What’s inspired you recently?
I go to a lot of live music – across all genres – and that’s always energising. But one recent performance that really stayed with me was by the BBC Philharmonic on International Women’s Day. They played The Light of the End by Sofia Gubaidulina, who had just passed away at 93. She was such a powerful composer – deeply emotional – and that piece was extraordinary. It stayed with me for days.
Do you have any new work coming up you’re especially excited about?
Yes! I’ve got a new piece premiering at Manchester International Festival in July called A Possibility. It’s a collaboration with Dutch artist Germaine Kruip and American composer Hahn Rowe. There’ll be five performances at the RNCM Opera Theatre, and it’s going to look completely different to anything I’ve done before.
And there’s also The Anvil – a huge piece recorded in 2019, just before lockdown. It’s now been released on Delphian Records and shortlisted for a BBC Music Magazine Premiere Award. It’s about the Peterloo Massacre and the fight for the right for anyone to vote – universal suffrage. That feels especially urgent right now. It brings together choirs of all abilities and a full orchestra.
Zooming out – is there anything you’re advocating for in the wider industry?
We need more investment in music. Full stop. There’s still this idea that music is only a hobby and therefore doesn’t need funding in the same way as, say sport, or tech. And yet music is being stripped out of education. Ed Sheeran pledging £250 million for music in state schools is amazing – but it shouldn’t take that kind of gesture to keep things afloat. Everyone should have the chance to learn an instrument, and we’re losing that.
At the same time, we need better funded opportunities for emerging composers and songwriters to take creative risks. Not everything should be safe and polished – people need room to fail. That’s how you reach something truly excellent. We need to understand that better as a culture.
There’s also the ongoing issue of copyright and AI – the exploitation of creatives without consent. I recently read an article by Jeanette Winterson in the Guardian about AI-generated fiction and she’s right. Artists deserve to be paid. It’s that simple. And this should be perfectly possible alongside the development of effective and responsible AI tools.
Do you have any final words for our readers?
Only that I really believe in collaboration – with performers, poets, scientists, artists. I’ve worked with Marcus du Sautoy, taken inspiration from maths and science – and I think those unexpected connections often lead to the most original ideas. Creativity doesn’t happen in a vacuum.
