for Symphonic Orchestra – 2026, ca. 16′
– 3/3/3/3 4/3/3/1 Acc., Pno, Hpe, Timp., 4. Perc., Strings
édition Peters, Score in rent: EP 14900Premiere: 18 Oct. 2026, SWR Symphonieorchester, Cond.: François-Xavier Roth, Donaueschinger Musiktage 2026, Donaueschingen.
Commission from the SWR
Dedicated to Lydia Rilling
Program note:
The music of the so-called “pygmies” (a generic and quite pejorative term of Greek origin)—the Mbaka, Bedzan, and Aka peoples of Central Africa—has been a constant companion of mine since 2000, ever since my studies in ethnomusicology and a subsequent trip to visit the Bedzan people in the Tikar region of Cameroon. Through their music and to some extent their philosophy of life, I found what I had already been seeking and, at times, practicing on my own. They have taught me a great deal, both technically (polyrhythm, rhythmic unevenness, commetricity, the interplay of voices as a means of increasing confusion, specific approaches to repetition, ornamentation, or difference) and in terms of sociological and philosophical principles of music that were already part of me for personal or family reasons: the unique relationship between the individual and the group, between the musician and their instrument, and the constant use of illusions to deconstruct any autonomous entity. These are principles that they apply methodically and with great subtlety and beauty.
The Hindewhu is the name of an extremely rudimentary flute played by the Ba-MBenzele people. Consisting of a small, ten centimeters long tube made from a papaya twig with no tuning holes, it produces only a single note. By extension, Hindewhu refers to a repertoire for solo voice in hoquetus with this monotone flute [1]. The instrumentation is minimal, and the compositional possibilities are apparently limited due to the monodic constraint on the soloist, who performs in hoquetus the vocal part and the monotone flute.
In my opinion, the Hindewhu repertoire is, however, one of the most subtle and sensitive in the human culture. Instrumentally speaking, this repertoire —like any Pygmy repertoire— features superb ambivalences between the whole and the part: a single performer with a vocal part employing the yodel technique (a vocal technique involving shifts between the chest and head registers), such that the musician’s singularity is perceptually dissociated into at least three virtual timbral entities: the two vocal registers and the unique sound of the flute. The subtlety and deconstruction of the entities’ autonomy do not stop there: as the ethnomusicologist (and one of my mentors) Simha Arom demonstrated in a brilliant analysis of this repertoire [2], in most pieces from this repertoire, the voice sings “asymmetrical” phrases [3+2+2]+[3+2], it means 12 elementary values (asymmetric half-periods [7]+[5]), multiplied by three within an overall period of 12 ternary beats, as is customary in most Central African repertoires [3], particularly among the Pygmies. The single note of this rudimentary flute, on contrary, is played at regular intervals —every four elementary values— but fits perfectly in this hoquetus, into the rests of these complex, asymmetrical sung patterns.
One marvels here at the mathematical virtuosity of these compositions, achieved despite an unparalleled simplicity of means (an untrained voice and a single note produced by what is practically a twig—a flute that falls into a musical pause at regular intervals, while the other segments of these monodies produce complex rhythms—just think about it!). One is also struck by the beauty of these various timbres and the numerous sonic and mathematical illusions (and the ear clearly perceives —even if unconsciously— the complex vocal patterns and the flute’s regular repetition), as well as the contrapuntal dimension of this repertoire, which is, at first glance, soloistic and employs a most rudimentary instrument.
The entire performance takes place outdoors, without the isolation of a concert hall, nor any artificiality or sophistication. It is a technical and aesthetic masterpiece of composition and decomposition by musicians who do not verbalize any musical theory, nor fetishize any complex instruments (due to their nomadic status, their rudimentary tools, and their indifference to technologism, unlike the sedentary populations surrounding them or other sedentary civilizations around the world, including our own), who do not attend any conservatories, are unfamiliar with the concept of musical professionalization and solo performance (equality of roles), and live in structures with very little hierarchy and in close harmony with nature. A thought-provoking contrast to our orchestras, our musical composition, our logocentrism, our highly professionalized (and so often narcissistic…) artists, and our disdain for other cultures and for the planet. Yet this repertoire is little known, and these communities are disappearing because of the climate crisis that we—not they—have created.
My composition is not a Hindewhu. It makes no claim to folklorism or any form of cultural appropriation. The intent is different, multifaceted—above all, a commentary on our era of crises. A wide range of techniques—in particular my customary polyrhythmic techniques—as well as numerous orchestrations of textures and acoustic illusions evoke my current state of mind, horrified by this era and our selfishness. Yet, implicitly, this piece is a subtle and symbolic tribute to this repertoire and these peoples who have taught me so much—in contrast to our technologized, overconsumptive Anthropocene, which is leading our planet to ruin. This piece serves as a jewelry box for this instrument, this repertoire and this musical philosophy, an invitation to better understand this magnificent repertoire, and a sad and disillusioned allegory of our era and the state of our planet.