Overwhelming darkness: In conversation with Mark Simpson

Mark Simpson
© Matthew Johnson

It’s late February and the hottest day of the year by far. Even for a city with a world-wide reputation for its café culture, Maastricht’s terraces are brimming with locals and tourists alike, all grappling for the first, warm rays of sun after a long, dark winter. I, though, am not the only English visitor who has descended upon the depths of Limburg, a land where Flemish, Dutch, English and French interchanges seamlessly and one’s ears remains ever vigilant to the preferred language of communication. Maastricht’s Vrijthof Theatre is the focus of my attention, which, courtesy of Philzuid’s British chief conductor Duncan Ward, is fast becoming the go-to place for British composers looking to find a foothold in Europe, or take their creations to the next level.

Mark Simpson in the Netherlands

Born and raised in Liverpool, British composer and clarinettist Mark Simpson’s early success in both the BBC Young Musician of the Year and BBC Proms/Guardian Young Composer of the Year competition in 2006, catapulted him into the public arena at an early age. Not every young musician makes their Wigmore Hall debut aged 17.

Success now means he is a familiar face on the international circuit either juggling performances of ground-breaking works by contemporaries such as Thomas Adès and Helmut Lachenmann, some of which are written for him, or increasingly attending premieres of his own works in top venues across Europe. Philzuid is not the only Dutch orchestra to champion his work.  The Radio Filharmonish Orkest, under Ben Goodson gave the Dutch premiere of his vocal work Phôs earlier this week in the Concertgebouw, following the successful Dutch premiere of his Violin Concerto in 2023. A performance full of additional drama after British violinist Nicola Benedetti, for whom the work was composed, fell ill leaving Dutch violinist Liza Ferschtman to takes the reins. She learnt the concerto from scratch, in just two weeks.

Simpson in Maastricht

Tonight is the turn of Mark Simpson’s Viola Concerto Hold Your Heart in Your Teeth – his first international commission. British violist Timothy Ridout, for whom the work was written, will give its Dutch premiere.

The title, derived from a Romanian idiom, loosely translating as ‘to face your fears’, or ‘bite the bullet’ has a deeply personal meaning. With each new work, Simpson talks of feeling closer to his true musical identity: ‘I am also holding my heart in my teeth, musically as it were.’

The auditorium is packed, and anticipation is high. With audience favourite, Richard Strauss’ Also Sprach Zarathustra in the second half, and Rachmaninov’s Isle of the Dead to start, we will surely leave with a smile on our face.

We agree to chat briefly before the concert, and from the out, Simpson makes me smile. Dressed in a striking, geometric black and white jacket (in stark contrast to the usual uniformity shown by Dutch and Flemish men of a similar age) he eagerly reads my translated programme notes. ‘Where did you get these?’ he asks. ‘It’s magic!’ I say… Google Translate is a world away from the clunky rigmarole of yesteryear!

Building relationships

Having spent much of the week attending rehearsals in Eindhoven, Simpson understands the value of building relationships. We compare notes on another British performer/composer who has forged similar relationships with a rather iconic Dutch institution: Thomas Adès who led performances of his ballet score Inferno in the Concertgebouw just a couple of night before. In my research, Adès’ name keeps cropping up… I am curious to know what role this doyenne of British music-making has played in Simpson’s own development as a musician.

Respect for Thomas Adès

The magnitude of my question is clear in his eyes.

‘Tom is probably the most important influence on me as a musician,’ he divulges. ‘Both his career as a performer and composer, and his thinking about programming and conducting. Growing up, he was someone I always looked up to and still do to this day. I have huge respect for him and always will.

‘There’s a brilliance to his music that I’ve always been drawn to. A musical ear that is steeped in the great traditions. But is also alive to the present day. Adès is noticeably excited by instruments’ possibilities, and there’s always a clear process which unfolds. Never though, at the expense of the listening experience. So many illuminating and exciting things happening at the same time.

This unfolding process is something Simpson himself has touched upon in a recent interview with the Borletti-Buitoni Trust where he talks about the ‘deeply instinctive musical quality to his compositional process’. One where he doesn’t write anything unless he can sing or play it. And one, with the performer always in mind. 

British violist Timothy Ridout and Mark Simpson discuss how to create the overwhelming darkness:
‘It’s all about the C-string.’
Simpson’s Viola Concerto Hold Your Heart in Your Teeth ahead of the world premiere in Berlin’s Philharmonie Spet 2024

In that same interview, Ridout, who we will see shortly on the Maastricht stage, is more graphic, comparing Simpson’s music to that of a great book where you just want to know what happens next: ‘His Viola Concerto is a real page-turner! You’re completely glued. And if it were a series [on TV] you would just binge-watch.’

The bell ushering us into the auditorium sounds, so we agree to resume our chat after the premiere.

British violist Tim Ridout gives the Dutch premiere of Hold Your Heart in Your Teeth with Duncan Ward and Phil Zuid | February 26th, 2026
Tim Ridout playing the viola with Phil Zuid
Ridout’s beautiful and very large viola (c. 1565-75) made by Peregrino di Zanetto
© Focuss 22

When we resume our chat downstairs, the atmosphere in the bar is buzzing. Everyone is on a high. But listening to the performance, I became transfixed by an overwhelming darkness: the viola’s opening theme which kept returning, deeply reminiscent of Eastern European harmonies melodic lines. Where does this darkness come from?

Three men taking a bow
Mark Simpson joins Timothy Ridout and
Duncan Ward on the Maastricht stage | © Clare Varney
The darkness

Simpson talks of his learning to trust his instincts as he gets older. ‘With this work, there was a level of confidence in the expressivity, in the harmonic and orchestral language. The darkness comes directly from the viola’s bottom C-string. And even though the work starts with a bang, it really starts with the viola’s entry. In the early stages, I struggled with the opening, but I had the opening cadenza which a friend said sounded like the dawn of time or an explosion. So I worked backwards.’

Useful advice for all those creatives who get stuck for hours or even days on their opening gambit.

Unpicking Simpson’s writing process

As we talk, his hands constantly make gestures akin to the fluidity seen in his scores where notes seem to cascade down the page.

‘I write everything by hand at the piano,’ he says, something he views as an important part of the process.

Does this enhance the final product, I ask?

‘Music comes out of my body. I sing, and I feel it.’

I learn that his compositional process is very tactile and involves lots of sketching and pulling things out before arriving at ‘a sketchy, short story.’ It takes about three stages to reach a place where he can add harmony, map out the structure and ‘getting into’ the orchestration which is his favourite part. ‘Coming up with ideas is also fun!’ he adds!

As we chat, a very polite and grateful audience member joins us to congratulate. He thanks Simpson for his music referring to it as ‘The most special thing in his life. So spiritual’. Simpson is clearly touched. Many artists hide away in the dressing room, reluctant to face their audience in the flesh. But this exchange seems heartfelt. ‘Perhaps it is the Scouser in me,’ he muses, ‘wearing my heart on my sleeve’. This ability and willingness to talk to people from all walks of life is worth its weight in gold.

Mark Simpson
I return to his ‘darkness’ and ask what he reads.

Lots of philosophy, I learn. Works by French author Georges Bataille (1887-62) and German philosopher Friedrich Nietzche. He does read some novels, but not many. Works by Austrian novelist Thomas Bernhard, the post-modernist works of Hungarian Nobel prize-winner László Krasznahorkai, such as Satantango (1985) and The Melancholy of Resistance – subsequently adapted into film (1989). Not your everyday coffee table offering!

‘I’m drawn more to melancholy things, I don’t really like happy literature,’ he says. ‘I’m interested in the human condition.’

I wonder if there is a question he is trying to understand or explore in his music?

‘Potentially,’ he replies. ‘Especially with the larger works, those with texts. It’s never a conscious decision. But increasingly, I’m drawn to people who ask: what does it mean to be human? And is there an afterlife? Often mystical people form the base of my human experience… I never want to shy away from the emotional realm.’

Delving deeper, I find his creations littered with references to these questions.

Darkness Moves I & II works for electronics, and solo clarinet and horn are both inspired by a series of texts by Belgian poet Henri-Michaux, full of nightmarish images of contorted and writhing bodies.

Similarly, ZEBRA, his Concerto for Electric Guitar (premiered at the 2025 BBC Proms) is inspired by American, science-fiction novelist Philip K. Dick who questions the concept of an omnipresent higher being. Mystical revelations, intense visions and bizarre hallucinations which dominated Dick’s thinking up until his death become acts to be hidden from an all-seeing God, hence the oblique title: ZEBRA.

And The Immortal, a supernatural oratorio inspired by John Gray’s philosophical book The Immortalisation Commission based on the experiences of Victorian researcher Frederick Myers who conducted a series of well-documented seances, questions man’s very existence while attempting to reconnect with a long-lost lover’s childhood.

Deep questions for troubled times.

In interview with Nicola Benedetti prior to the world premiere of his Violin Concerto in 2021 with the London Symphony Orchestra, they touched on these deep questions… Simpson talked about ‘opening his heart’ while Benedetti spoke of a creative process seemingly ‘driven by a force outside of his control’. I would proffer that similar forces may have been at play in the creation of Hold your Heart in Your Teeth, when Ridout’s cadenza ‘arouses a storm of pain and suffering’.

In the coming season, events will continue to shift up a gear as Icelandic pianist Tamara Stefanovich gives the world premiere of his new Piano Concerto with Ed Gardner and the London Phil. Will there be more darkness to unfold? I can’t wait to see.

Read more from Clare

The review | Timothy Ridout joins Duncan Ward to seek the darkness

If Rachmaninov’s darkness felt overwhelming, Simpson’s Viola Concerto went further, plunging the depths and challenging not just the mind, but demanding immense physicality from all involved. After the opening, orchestral riotous din, Timothy Ridout’s viola languished low on the C string. Its very Eastern European modality, answered by a terrifying tuba.

Click here to read the full review

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