Adventfjorden

2018 | 9’

flute, vibraphone, viola, bass, tape

In early September 2018 I went to Svalbard for a week. It took 24 hours from take-off at Heathrow to landing in Longyearbyen, the world's northernmost functioning civilian settlement with over 1000 permanent residents, where I stayed with an American dock worker, sleeping on a mattress on his living room floor (while he slept on the sofa; a Norwegian coastguard had rented the bedroom for the week). While I was there the temperature ranged from 1-7ºC, I wasn't allowed out of the town limits without an armed guard in case of polar bear attack, it snowed on the hills around the town, and I hiked across two glaciers and up a mountain.

At mealtimes I would take a couple of sandwiches and find somewhere at the edge of the town to eat, think, and relax. I soon discovered my favourite spots: up the valley to see the glaciers, by the water tank on the side of a hill overlooking the town, and down by the water looking out over Adventfjorden were all beautiful. In each of these places I was alone, only 820 miles from the North Pole, with my thoughts, the scenery, the crisp air, and - while down at the water - the sound of gentle waves lapping against the stony beach. Not wanting to forever lose the moment, I made some audio recordings of the evening water as I watched the sunset (which, at 78 degrees north in early September, takes hours).

Some weeks later, I began to turn that experience into Adventfjorden. Meditative, peaceful, organic, I aimed to capture my state of mind in the music. Gentle swells come and go. A soft melody on the polar breeze floats by. Underneath it all, the sound of the water at the very place the piece describes - 78º13’24”N 15º40’08”E.

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