This book about Brewaeys contains a couple of musical scores. A copy of one still sits in the 'music' folder on my desk. I received it from Katelijne Boon when I was preparing a news item about that controversial 'compulsory piece' he wrote for the semi-final of the Elisabeth Singing Competition 2011. It was a commission from the Belgian competition organizers, but the international jury panel found it unperformable and scrapped the mandatory work. Unjustly so, because soprano Laure Delcampe delivered a memorable performance of "speechless song, being many, seeming one" based on Shakespeare's sonnet no. 8 at Bozar on March 31, 2011.
It's a story that author Johan Huys also tells at length in this book. And it's a friend telling it. You notice that on every page of this work. It resonates throughout the numerous testimonies, conversations, quotes from interviews and emails about and around Brewaeys' life and work. It's not really a proper biography but rather a monumental tribute, that much is clear. A "kaleidoscopic" portrait in 56 very smoothly written short chapters.
Joker, whisky lover, who also enjoyed cigars and good company around the table. That's how Johan Huys describes this composer, pianist, conductor, and music director. But those were far from his only qualities. Brilliant, he adds, and illustrates that abundantly with his own and others' testimonies: from parents and spouse, from contemporary composers like Jonathan Harvey and Annelies Van Parys, from conductors and performers like Arturo Tamayo and Arne Deforce, and from his mentor André Laporte. Who said of him: "a flamboyant student with phenomenal musical ear" and who also wanted to teach him "the rules of counterpoint," but " all those rules, commandments and prohibitions didn't interest him. He had something else to say." And that was indeed the case.
Once he found spectral music, he destroyed almost everything he had written before. It's the musical genre he became known for. You get a real insight into, in, and behind the scenes of Brewaeys' compositional mind and how it developed throughout his life. That comes through beautifully in the interview excerpt of Brewaeys with musicologist Maarten Beirens about the different phases of his complex compositional process. You stand in awe of the research work the author undertook to find all those names and surnames, dates and locations of premieres, performances, residencies, festivals. And analyses of his major works such as his orchestrations of Debussy preludes, his cello piece Black rock unfolding and his "Whisky pieces" (covered in a separate chapter), his symphonies, his only opera The Man with a Flower in His Mouth created at De Munt in 2007. That was also the year of his first cancer treatment, and not the last. It was certainly an exhausting but also stubborn battle, right up until his death in 2015. As you read through the descriptions of all those works, you learn, tragically enough, everything about that long journey of suffering that Brewaeys endured. Huys calls his oeuvre "a biography transformed into sound", his true bio. That's why he was always busy with future plans, interrupted by periods of illness, operations, recovery, and relapse. Much remained unfinished as a result. He was rational and pragmatic about it, but loved to live fully and generously. As has often been written: he had a peculiar sense of "h(t)umor". He could push the limits in virtually everything he did, it states. Plenty of moving passages in this book, with fragments from conversations with his wife and personal doctor, sometimes quite intimately. Huys quotes Brewaeys about his composition "And yet it moves”: “And yet I write music, even though I'm sick and will remain sick”.
It's remarkable how throughout the entire book names appear of people who motivated Brewaeys. The leitmotif at the beginning of the book is therefore very appropriately chosen. A statement by artist Gerhard Richter: "I have no motive, only motivation”.
After reading this absolutely fascinating book, you realize – perhaps too late – truly, Luc Brewaeys was perhaps difficult and complex, but undeniably a genius.
ed. note: Luc Brewaeys added an extra dimension to Klassiek Centraal. Midway through December 2008, the magazine, run by Koen and Ludwig, received an email. Full of praise for the initiative and its content, and with the question of whether he could contribute, voluntarily. For our young magazine, this was a recognition that surpassed all others. He immediately became the first contributor outside the founders. Unfortunately, the collaboration didn't develop the way Luc and we had hoped. The ugly cancer, which would also strike Koen, threw a wrench in our partnership. After 1.5 years of working together, we named Luc Editor Emeritus during the Five Years Klassiek Centraal celebration at Brussels City Hall. Luc couldn't be there. Lucrèce Maeckelberg and the by-then also sadly departed Wim Henderickx brought the certificate to Luc's home. Between the cigars and the whisky, indeed. Wim, Koen, and Luc are no longer with us, but they won't let us go. Each of them is, in their own way, an inspiration to keep going. Yes indeed, Luc, don't worry, we'll keep at it, thanks in part to you!
