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"I feel almost weightless when I stand in front of a choir, I feel so alive!"
With Eric Whitacre, Belgium counts among its residents an American Grammy winner. He appears in our Christmas concert together with the Flemish Radio Choir and his wife, soprano Laurence Servaes. ‘Many Belgians are unaware of how fortunate they are in this country.’
‘I speak a little Dutch. Like a six-year-old,’ says Eric Whitacre (55) at the outset of our conversation. His r still rolls a little awkwardly in Flemish. Whitacre, composer and conductor with a deep affinity for choral music, has a striking biography. Born in the gambling city of Reno, Nevada, he pursued classical training in Las Vegas, the true Sin City. He lived for many years in California, but now addresses us via webcam from his apartment in Antwerp. A few years ago he moved to Belgium with Laurence Servaes, the Belgian-American soprano he met here, and their son. He also spent a short period in Ghent. ‘The parking lot, as they call it here.’
It is, of course, a jest. Little trace of Antwerp swagger or American bravado is to be found in Whitacre. Yet we are speaking with a name of stature. He collaborated with Hans Zimmer (for the fourth ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ film and for ‘Batman v Superman’), appeared in TED Talks, and won a Grammy (for the 2012 album ‘Light & Gold’, which he both composed and conducted). ‘Well, “Grammy winner”: those will surely be the first words of my obituary, won’t they?’ he says. That day still lies far ahead, but we nonetheless present him with five dilemmas.
"Christmas seems to me melancholic. Emotions are strong, disappointments arrive sooner. It reminds me of ‘The Gift of the Magi’, a Christmas tale my father often read aloud and which we are presenting at Flagey and at De Bijloke. It is a well-loved story in the United States about a young impoverished couple who sacrifice everything to give each other a gift, only to discover that material things are not what truly matter.”
"Ah, difficult! I would choose conducting. I feel almost weightless when I stand before a choir. I feel so alive! It is profoundly inspiring. There is also the social dimension: the bond created with the audience is unlike anything else. Composing, on the other hand, is sheer toil. I truly enjoy it only when it is finished. (laughs) The obligation can weigh heavily as well. I have just completed the last commission I truly had to deliver, and suddenly my mind has begun to sing again—because it is no longer required. I am back in the dream phase now, the most rewarding of all. Until the moment comes to piece everything together, and then it hurts again."
"(without hesitation) Thanksgiving! It is a most sincere celebration, free of religion, free of dogma, concerned only with togetherness and gratitude. There is usually no lack of alcohol (laughs), and after the meal each person tells what he or she is grateful for. (Thanksgiving, originally a harvest festival, takes place on the fourth Thursday of November.)
Christmas seems to me more melancholic. It is also pricklier, a little more precarious, one might say. Emotions are stronger, disappointments arrive sooner. It reminds me of ‘The Gift of the Magi’, a Christmas tale my father often read aloud and which we are presenting at Flagey and at De Bijloke. It is a well-loved story in the United States about a young impoverished couple who sacrifice everything to give each other a gift, only to discover that material things are not what truly matter."
"The Gift of the Magi is Eric’s dramatic setting of a quintessentially American story – a charming Christmas tale. Newlyweds Jim and Della, find themselves wanting to buy each other gifts on Christmas Eve. What they lack in resources they make up for in love as they find gifts for each other with unexpected results."
"The Ghent Festival, without question. Las Vegas is fascinating—it is a sugar rush—but it is all so superficial. The contrast with the splendour of the desert around it is striking. The Ghent Festival is a layering of culture within a beautiful city. We did not live directly in the festival zone—with a four-year-old, sleep is sacred—but I loved the idea that you could first attend a quiet concert and then still go out until five in the morning. Ah, Ghent is perhaps Europe’s best-kept secret."
"Oh, I would return my Grammy at once! In truth, it is useful only as a doorstop. Such a trophy carries little weight; the very idea of competition in music is absurd.’
I have become deeply attached to Belgium. Belgians are marvellous people. When I met Laurence eight years ago, I wanted to know everything about how best to date a Belgian (laughs). Americans are rather like golden retrievers: instantly sociable and friendly, but sometimes fleeting. To truly know a Belgian takes time. But once you are friends, it is genuine.
I love the food here as well, and of course the beer. Above all, I admire the way Belgians embrace culture. I must admit that Ghent has better beers than Antwerp (laughs). Delirium Tremens is a favourite of mine. But beyond all that: I love the very fabric of society here. Healthcare in Belgium, for instance, is exceptional. I am not certain Belgians fully realize how fortunate they are. It is remarkable how well this country cares for its people. That ethos, which permeates the entire nation, is something to cherish."
“(denkt na) Toch maar koor. Ik hou van orkest, van het samenspel, maar niets gaat boven een groep zangers die elkaar vinden. Het is de zuiverste kunstvorm die er is. Als de stemmen perfect op elkaar ingespeeld zijn en alles goed ineenklikt: er is niets mooiers. Het is een soort high waar ik mijn hele leven naar zal blijven streven.”
Peace, stillness, and soft light: a Christmas journey through five centuries of choral music.
Peace, stillness, and soft light: a Christmas journey through five centuries of choral music.
Peace, stillness, and soft light: a Christmas journey through five centuries of choral music.
Peace, stillness, and soft light: a Christmas journey through five centuries of choral music.