Tapani Länsiö in Profile

by Minna Lindgren :: 1996

Tapani Länsiö is known for a great many things besides being a composer, but it is composing that he considers his main profession. Länsiö’s catalogue of works is and will remain rather limited. This is only partly due to his many other activities: in addition to various demands on his time, he follows a strict principle of exclusion. Länsiö only acknowledges works that have proved their viability in performance. Thus, he has mercilessly extracted from his catalogue those works that for one reason or another have not stood the test of time. Some works were written for certain occasions, while others have proved to be only of momentary value: “Sometimes the vitality of a piece can be extinguished by the fact that I have tried to make the piece into something that it is not.” Länsiö has banned nearly all the works he wrote in his youth. “The younger you are, the more distractions there are: studies, expectations and false ideas about what is significant.” Länsiö would rather write one first-rate work than several second-rate ones. He has a standard response for people who express puzzlement that his catalogue is so diminutive: “True, but on the other hand all of my works can be listened to several times.”

Länsiö ponders things and gives them time to work themselves out. He mentions the characteristics of intervals as one of his most recent insights: “It is only now that I really understand their challenges and demands. I am almost ashamed to think back on how I have treated intervals in the past.” At the same time, his pantheon of influences has become consolidated: it includes Webern, Scelsi, Kurtág, Verdi, Beethoven and Tinctoris. “For twenty years we were taught the wrong things: rows, tonal groups, and so on. There is nothing wrong with them as such, but it is wrong to concentrate on technique instead of expression and expressive power,” fumes Länsiö, who studied composition at the Sibelius Academy in the 1970s.

“It is important to know what is important. One must be aware of what one is doing. Only profound awareness opens the path to that of which one is not aware. The more aware I am of how I write music, the more inevitably it proceeds into areas of which I am not aware,” says Länsiö. For him, music is first and foremost about form and language. “A human being can tell the truth or tell a lie, but in music everything is true all the time.”

Länsiö’s music is not only limited in quantity; it is also austere in style. Many of his works are concise and clear – everything unnecessary has been pruned. The clarity of form caters to the listener: “With the aid of and in the course of form, the listener is given insights and moments of realization. It is important to be able to identify things: the simpler the form, the more identifiable it is.”

Länsiö has not only the listener but the performer in mind when writing music. This involves not only providing the performers with gratifying challenges, but also the performer’s responsibility in performing the work. “One must be able to perform the right work in the right place – and always well. There is no point in performing Webern’s op. 10 badly in a large hall. Nor is there any point in looking at Leonardo’s frescoes in the dark. Every work must be unique, and this uniqueness comes about when both composer and performers take full responsibility for their respective duties.”

Länsiö feels that in his best compositions he has succeeded in creating either small moments or extensive dramaturgy. “The problem is in matching the two.” As examples, Länsiö mentions his string quartet and the 17 Songs of Summer. These are two very different works. The songs consist of meticulously crafted tiny details, whereas the string quartet is based on rhythmic energy, polyphonic layers “and other niceties,” as Länsiö says. “The songs are a work of small ideas and noble details, perhaps lacking in overall dramaturgy. The string quartet, on the other hand, is strong on dramaturgy and surprising connections. There are many sections in it where I have not bothered to tinker with the details since I have relied on pure energy to carry the music forward.”

In writing the 17 Songs of Summer, Länsiö crystallized his approach to language and became convinced of the inseparability of musical sound from the meaning of language, a concept he had been mulling over for years. “It is possible to separate musical sound from meaning for a moment. The freedom from the meanings of words gives vowels and consonants the same sort of function as notes – although the meanings of the underlying words may in fact influence the music.” Länsiö now feels comfortable with language: “The magnitude of language has been revealed to me, I no longer need to wonder about it. There is still a lot to wonder about in music, though.”


Translation © Jaakko Mäntyjärvi