I wrote Phoenix Variations in autumn 1968, when I was in my first term at the Royal Academy of Music in London. At that time my composition teacher was Harrison Birtwistle. The score lay on a shelf until 1979, when I looked at it again and decided that despite (or perhaps because of) the simple, almost childlike character of the music, I still liked the piece. I therefor revised it, simplifying still further where appropriate, and tightening the structure slightly. The phoenix of the title celebrates its rebirth from the ashes.

The piece is an exercise in serial technique at its simplest. Only the four basic versions of the row are used, and there is no transposition. The twelve-note row is presented naked and unadorned as a theme, divided into three phrases or gestures - five notes, then four, and finally three. After each phrase, the pianist sweeps the fingertips of the left hand quietly across the strings to create a gentle downward glissando - first in the upper register, then the middle, and finally the bass. This harp-like sonority not only creates a texture which sets in relief the normal keyboard sound; it also provides a background sonority for the first variation, which follows without a break.

There are seven variations in all. The first is gentle, emerging delicately from the harp sonority; the second is rapid and jerky, like a tiny scherzo ; the third is legato and elegant, and behaves rather like the trio of a scherzo; the fourth is a reprise of the second (like that of a traditional scherzo) ; the fifth is a slow and rather solemn chorale with decorative variations in two-part canon in the high register ; the sixth is a contrasted and almost Beethovenian variation (though its immediate model was probably Berg) ; and the last variation (which never rises above the dynamic piano ) owes more to the influence of Webern - and also of Messiaen, whom I came to know and love eight years later, when I made frequent visits to his composition class at the Paris Conservatoire.

The Phoenix Variations are dedicated to the late great musician and friend of post-war British composers, Susan Bradshaw, who gave the first performance in a BBC Radio 3 broadcast in 1980.

Giles Swayne
2025