When We Were Trees

Elaboration on When we were trees by Joep Stapel

 

When we were trees

He is a phenomenon – that may be the safest way to introduce Abel Selaocoe. Whatever you say about him (he’s a cellist, singer, composer, performer, bridge-builder), it never quite captures him. Coming from a township near Johannesburg, Selaocoe (1992) has taken the world by storm in recent years with his virtuosic, irresistibly passionate performances – whether he's playing contemporary music, his own "African"-sounding compositions, or a cello suite by Bach. This afternoon, Selaocoe and Ensemble Resonanz present a generous cross-section of his musical versatility, with the connecting – and even healing – power of nature as a unifying theme. After the intermission comes the Dutch premiere of Bay of Bisons, a brand-new cello concerto composed by the Australian-Dutch Kate Moore for Selaocoe and Ensemble Resonanz.

 

Antonín Dvořák: Waldesruhe

The program begins far from Johannesburg, with a peaceful nineteenth-century forest fantasy. At the request of German music publisher Fritz Simrock, Antonín Dvořák composed the From the Bohemian Forest cycle for piano four hands in 1883. Years later, he arranged the fifth movement for cello and piano. This version, together with one for cello and orchestra, was published in 1894 under the German title Waldesruhe. Its lyrical, song-like melody effortlessly evokes a world that often feels unreachable in everyday life: carefree, filled with inner peace. Selaocoe and members of Resonanz perform Waldesruhe in an arrangement for four cellos by American cellist Edward Laut.

Abel Selaocoe

 

Selaocoe had a brother eight years older who attended music school in Soweto – Abel always came along. This nurtured his love of music and introduced him to the Western classical tradition, ultimately leading him to the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester. “Studying the Bach suites and other classics was adventurous,” he told the BBC. “But when I started using my voice alongside the cello, that’s when it became magical for me.” His distinctive throat singing is inspired by the South African Xhosa people, where women traditionally sing in this intense, resonant style.

One of the unique aspects of Selaocoe’s artistry, beyond his electrifying performances, is how seamlessly he blends vastly different influences. On his albums, he combines Baroque music by J.S. Bach or Marin Marais with his own groove-driven works, improvisations, and pieces by contemporary composers like Giovanni Sollima. Selaocoe feels a kinship with Sollima, who is also a cellist, and today’s concert takes its title from Sollima’s gripping double concerto When we were trees.

 

This afternoon, Selaocoe performs four of his own pieces for orchestra, cello, and percussion. He is joined by master percussionist Sidiki Dembélé, who was born in Côte d'Ivoire but descends from an ancient lineage of Malian griots – West African singing historians and guardians of oral tradition. This collaboration immediately challenges any monolithic notion of “Africa”: the griot tradition and Xhosa vocal techniques Selaocoe draws from are entirely distinct musical entities – as different from each other as they are from Dvořák, Sollima, or Kate Moore. Selaocoe and his colleagues’ ability to integrate such diverse influences while preserving their individuality speaks volumes about their inclusive vision and versatility.

 

From his second album Hymns of Bantu (released in February), Selaocoe performs only one piece: Kea Morata (“I love you”). In an interview with Strings Magazine, he explained that the album is about connection and collaboration – a philosophy reflected in this concert. Kea Morata is a driving composition in which the restless, sometimes improvised-sounding solo cello engages in dialogue with the ensemble’s sultry slides and rhythmic punctuation. The vocal line evolves from intimate and seductive to a powerful roar that sends shivers down your spine.

The other three works are from Selaocoe’s 2022 debut album Where is home (Hae ke kae). In the atmospheric Qhawe (Hero), he stirs things up with beatboxing and deep breath pulses. Lerato (Love) begins as an a cappella lullaby, gradually acquiring instrumental textures.

If Selaocoe has a “hit,” it’s surely Ka Bohaleng (On the sharp side), which he performed with great success on Dutch TV program Podium Klassiek. Propelled by a barrage of rapid-fire vocal articulations, the piece unfolds into a thrilling dance that builds to a dazzling climax.

 

Kate Moore: Bay of Bisons

After the break, Selaocoe performs Bay of Bisons, a brand-new solo concerto composed for him and Ensemble Resonanz by Kate Moore. Its world premiere took place three days ago at Hamburg’s Elbphilharmonie. Moore has gained international recognition for her mysterious, inspired music, which she closely associates with nature and landscape. The title of today’s program resonates with her body of work; coincidentally, she recently composed Memories of trees for the Ragazze Quartet, which premiered the night before this concert at the Oerol Festival.

Speaking of nature, Moore composed Bay of Bisons entirely outdoors. The work is part of her research project A Beautiful Path: plein air composing. Last year, she walked from Oss in the Dutch province of North Brabant, through her birthplace Oxford in England, to the rocky island of Skellig Michael off Ireland’s southwest coast – a route she calls “The Ox Way.” Carrying a violin, her daily improvisations gradually evolved into this twenty-minute composition.

 

Moore had walked the same route once before, over six consecutive winter weeks just before the pandemic. “The Ox Way” runs straight east to west. But the composition’s title references Bison Bay in the Ooijpolder, near the German border east of Nijmegen – which is east of Oss. Why?

Moore laughs: “I began my walk by tracing a G-clef shape through the landscape, from Oss through the Betuwe region to the Ooijpolder, and back via the Loon and Drunen Dunes. One early winter morning around 4:30 a.m., I left from Berg en Dal. I heard birdsong, it was misty and grey, but so beautiful, and the trees were fragrant. I played a melody that stuck in my head and wouldn’t leave. That was the day I passed the house where my grandfather was born, near Bison Bay. It’s a magical place for me, a family place too. And it became the birthplace of the melody that started this piece.”

She received the melody “from the air,” as Moore puts it. Most of her improvised violin tunes she forgot, but some stayed with her. She “received” four melodies in total, which form the basis of the four movements of Bay of Bisons: “The music that stayed became the composition. These melodies feel like messages – they’re what I take from the journey, and the journey is part of the work. The walk itself was essentially a performance. The music you’ll hear in the concert hall is not a product, but the result, the temporary conclusion of that long performance.”

The violin Moore carried was a medieval vielle or vedel, a relatively small gut-stringed instrument played like a viola da gamba – between the legs. Its playing technique resembles that of the cello, which Bay of Bisons is written for and which is also Moore’s primary instrument. Along the way, she composed the complete solo part, plus a second melody implying harmony, similar to a basso continuo line in Baroque music. After the journey, she turned the sketches into a full score. A phenomenon Moore used while improvising was sympathetic resonance: the natural vibration of open strings in harmony with played frequencies. The resulting harmonic aura is audible in Bay of Bisons.

 

The work’s four movements are played without pauses. “It’s an organic piece in which the emotional tone gradually shifts, but it all unfolds within one feeling, without major contrasts. The flow is very important,” says Moore. Keeping things simple felt like her mission – not disturbing the melodies’ “magical quality.” “On the other hand, I was writing for one of the best cellists in the world – it still had to be concert-hall-worthy.”

 

Because that’s what Abel Selaocoe is, she says: “Abel is a rock star – just amazing, a force of positive energy. I felt honored by the commission, but I haven’t had contact with him yet – that comes during rehearsals. The challenge for me was to find my own space. My composition process is completely private: my voice is my own, and I always work alone. Some composers say they collaborate closely with performers, but I never do. That boundary is crucial to me. I draw from a universal language, free from trends or fashions – just as I imagine medieval composers did.”

Initially, Moore wrote Bay of Bisons as a cello concerto. But Selaocoe is also a superb singer, and Moore is still exploring how to incorporate his unique voice: “I really want to, and I believe it’s possible. But it has to remain authentic. I learned a lot about my creative process during the walk, but it still remains mysterious. The most important thing for me is to stay true to my own voice.”

 

Giovanni Sollima: When we were trees

Italian composer and cellist Giovanni Sollima is a kindred spirit and source of inspiration for Abel Selaocoe. Born in Palermo, Sollima feels equally at home as a soloist in Baroque music, contemporary repertoire, or folk traditions. He improvises freely and weaves these influences into his own compositions. When we were trees is a double concerto for two cellos and strings, which Sollima recorded on his 2008 album We were trees. It reflects on a place where a forest once stood and can be interpreted as a call for ecological awareness. Abel Selaocoe performs it today with Saerom Park, a celebrated musician and Ensemble Resonanz’s principal cellist since 2009.

 

When we were trees has six movements, each with a distinct character. The meditative opening paints a “forest of violins,” establishing the link between theme and instrumentation – and circling back to Dvořák. The second movement, The architect, presents purposeful, kinetic music with repeating figures and overlapping patterns – rooted in minimalism, but with clear folk elements.

The third movement, Leaves postcards, features an Eastern-sounding melody, especially when accompanied by a repeated drone note. Elsewhere, unexpected harmonies evoke jazz-like associations. The fourth movement, The dangerous prevalence of imagination, is a wild, swirling dance ending in a piercing cry – perfect for Selaocoe’s expressive range.

The fifth movement, Nyagrodha, refers to a tree with a proverbially vast canopy – said in some Buddhist sources to shelter up to five hundred chariots. The irresistible finale, The family tree, pays tribute to Vivaldi, a distant musical ancestor. After all, music also has a lineage – in which composers of vastly different sounds may still be related. The piece concludes with glissando salvos that shoot into the air like acoustic fireworks.

 

Joep Stapel

music Antonín Dvořák, Abel Selaocoe, Kate Moore, Giovanni Sollima cello Abel Selaocoe, Saerom Park vocalist Abel Selaocoe percussion Sidiki Dembélé musicians Ensemble Resonanz coproduction NTR ZaterdagMatinee, Holland Festival, Ensemble Resonanz introduction by Frederike Berntsen, Kate Moore