What was your route into composition – can you tell us about your background and early musical education?
I had very little contact with music before starting piano lessons at age thirteen. From then on, it became an all-consuming passion. My first love was Bartók. To this day, I regularly play the Bartók piano piece that opened up a whole new world for me, a simple yet profound lullaby in irregular meter from the For Children cycle.

Composing came naturally as I was learning the instrument. I wrote my first large scale piano sonata at seventeen. It took more than six months of obsessional effort, composing and revising and practising at the piano until I felt confident enough to knock on the door of the composition class in Geneva’s ‘Haute Ecole de Musique’. I performed there and then for the head of the composition department, Jean Balissat. I joined his class the next trimester.

During the next two years, Mr Balissat taught me instrumentation and gave me multiple opportunities to write for the orchestra. Thanks to his support, three of my early orchestral attempts were performed during workshops and concerts. After Mr Balissat retired in 2000, I applied to the Royal Academy of Music in London and studied with Dominic Muldowney until graduating in 2004.

Looking back on those two mentors 20 years later, it strikes me that they did not teach composition per se, but helped me channel inspiration into well-crafted, playable scores. Can a similar effect be achieved in a simpler manner? Would this particular string motif benefit from being broken up between various sections? Should the harp play in the climax even though it won’t cut through the fortissimo brass chords? Both Dominic and Jean deeply loved the orchestra, and understood that it should not be treated as a single instrument, but as a collective of individualities. I feel immensely grateful to have benefited from their teachings.

Which composers are you most inspired by and/or what pieces do you find yourself returning to?
There are so many! Sibelius’ 6th symphony, for its purity of style and evocative power. Bartók’s 1st and Prokofiev’s 2nd piano concertos, which I often pair because every time I listen to either, I feel genuine jealousy at the inventiveness and virtuosity on display. Late Brahms piano Intermezzi – to put one’s fingers and mind through these is a deeply humane, heart-breaking experience. Mozart’s 17th piano sonata, because it makes the sheer joy of being alive sparkle with every note. Scriabin’s Etudes op.42, for reasons mystically “Scriabinian”. Schnittke’s Choir Concerto, the most beautiful embodiment of universal compassion I know of. Hariprasad Chaurasia’s Daylight Ragas, an absolute masterclass in melodic development, and an enlightening listen every single time. Bach’s Goldberg Variations, which demonstrate again and again that infinite and delightful variety can spring forth from a single theme.

If you had to introduce your compositional style, what would you say to someone with little musical knowledge?
I understand music as the art of weaving emotions through time. Every piece is a new emotional journey. My style strives to mirror the diversity of the human experience – how our minds refract the world around us and ponder the mysteries within.

You originally wrote Perpetual Variations in 2009. How did the piece come about and what were the ideas behind it?
After graduating from the Royal Academy, I was fortunate to receive a steady stream of orchestral commissions: a Concerto Grosso for the London Strings in 2005, a concerto for cello and string orchestra for Mark Drobinsky in 2006, and a chamber orchestra piece for the Geneva Chamber Orchestra in 2008. That last commission gave birth to Perpetual Variations, which premiered in Geneva under the baton of Markus Bosch.

I clearly remember setting out to write my most classical piece to date – I felt confident with my style, inspired, and ready to favour clarity of expression over experimentation. Composing stretched over an intense six months. I laughed out loud more than a couple times as the most playful sections took shape. Many hours were spent refining the overall narrative flow, improving how naturally the music breathes, and adding small instrumentation details. It was an exciting, joyful affair.

What form does the piece take?
The piece is built as a set of variations on a short mirror-theme: a progression of 6 chords, a unique 7th chord as focal point, and the 6 first chords again but backwards. This mirror structure can clearly be heard in the opening theme – the bassoon leads the orchestra into the central chord, before reversing to the point of origin and passing the baton to the oboe and violins. As the piece progresses, symmetries are broken and new harmonies are gradually discovered. This is where the title comes from – variations upon variations, or Perpetual Variations.

You revisited the piece in 2022. How did you feel about it, coming back to it 13 years later?
I had always wanted to come back to this piece. Whilst the premiere was successful, the orchestra had very little rehearsal time and some corners had to be cut. When I revised the score, I fixed a couple balance issues, and simplified the orchestral writing where difficulty of execution simply didn’t pay off. The music itself did not change at all – it was just made a little more efficient.

Can you sum up the mood and soundworld of the piece – what might it make listeners feel or experience?
There is no single mood but a journey through many states of being, both active and contemplative. The music oscillates between simple, clear cut statements and higher density moments where the abundance of detail overwhelms the ear. Music can carry speech-like intent, and pulse with the coherent movements of dance. Music can also unfold the infinitely detailed fractal of the natural world. This dialectic between the rational and the natural powers most of my work.

In terms of the recording, what qualities are there in the performance by the LCO that delighted or stood out for you?
My reply requires a little bit of context. I never trained as a conductor. My only experience has been occasionally conducting small to medium size ensembles, mostly for recordings of my own music. As the project with the LCO took shape and I delved deeper into revising the score, I became convinced that I had to conduct myself in order to produce a recording that accurately matched what I had in mind. This was quite the gamble, but I felt that with the right attitude it could pay off: my lack of technique would be apparent, but so would the clarity of my vision. I met with concertmaster Simon Blendis a few weeks before the recording. We discussed both the score and rehearsal strategies at length. During the sessions, I deferred to Simon’s experience whenever I was having difficulties. Other musicians in the orchestra helped as well. The mood was very positive – everyone took part with genuine care for our common goal. I am very satisfied with the result. I have each and every participant to thank for that.

Is there anything else that you would like to tell us?
I wanted to extend my thanks to the rest of the team. Rosanna Goodall led the recording sessions with impeccable professionalism throughout. Isa Khan produced a beautiful sounding mix, including an Atmos spatial audio version that places the listener right in front of the orchestra for an even more detailed experience. Jacob Werrin handled logistics with care and good humour. Jocelyn Lightfoot gave her kind support to the project from day one. Mariam Ruetschi put me in contact with the LCO and advised me every step of the way. Thank you!