CREATION AND EVOLUTION

Manchester Collective is an ensemble that doesn’t shy away from either transporting its listeners to unexpected places, or embracing change within its own identity. Members including co ‐founder and violinist Rakhi Singh talk to David Kettle about the group’s unique philosophy

Manchester Collective at the Southbank Centre, London

CHRIS PAYNE

‘If you’re not evolving, you’re not living.’ Violinist, composer and Manchester Collective’s co-founder and music director Rakhi Singh is hardly shy of making profound, even philosophical, observations about the group, what it is and what it’s for. But in fact, evolution feels like a particularly pertinent concept, in terms of the ensemble itself, its activities and fundamental identity, and in terms of the broader context within which it’s working.

Manchester Collective has itself evolved, certainly, from an idea shared between two friends to a position of international prominence. There’s been constant evolution, too, in the Collective’s repertoire and its collaborations, its embrace of video, lighting and other staging ideas, and who it’s creating work for. It’s undergoing a particularly fundamental evolution right now, in fact, following the departure of one of those founding friends (more of which later). And the Collective has found itself, alongside other groups, spearheading an evolution in wider thinking about musical performance, one that’s being enthusiastically taken up by many younger players.

Nonetheless, despite its profound changes and developments, Manchester Collective remains true to its founding ideas. It’s a flexible ensemble, predominantly but not exclusively string-based, and it takes classical music (plus music across many other genres, and newly created music, too) to unconventional spaces and audiences – unconventional, that is, if your starting point is a conventional classical one: think working men’s clubs, factories, warehouses and nightclubs alongside more established concert venues. And it brings together unconventional combinations of music, from iconic avant-garde classics to ancient tunes, from electronica to jazz and trad, as well as Bach, Beethoven and Brahms – often working closely with composers as they develop their own responses to a show’s overarching themes.

Rakhi Singh with co-founder, cellist Adam Szabo

MAIN PHOTO PETE WOODHEAD. PORTRAIT PHOTO ROBIN CLEWLEY

It began as the brainchild of Singh and cellist Adam Szabo, both former students at Manchester’s Royal Northern College of Music (RNCM), as recently as 2016. ‘I’d been in a string quartet,’ remembers Singh, ‘and I had an assistant leader job in Liverpool, but there was a gaping hole of creativity in my life. My sister introduced me to Adam, and they said they were thinking of an idea for an ensemble. So I said, “Great!” I was in my early thirties, so part of me felt like it was my last chance. I threw everything into it.’

That passion and commitment is still evident in the Collective’s work now. Look at its website, and you might be surprised by its strong, persuasive, carefully finessed identity. You could even call it a brand. As I chat with Singh, however, it becomes clear that that springs from simple issues of belief and conviction, and from raw authenticity. ‘Early on, we talked about what we wanted to do and our whole ethos,’ she remembers. ‘It was basically to play what we want, where we want, how we want and with whom we want – but above all, to the best of our ability. In some ways, that became our mission statement. It wasn’t about programming for the audience. Instead, it was a question of, “If we stick to our guns, people will learn to trust us.”’

That sense of trust clearly extends into daring to take listeners to some perhaps unexpected places. ‘Not all experiences in life are happy and pleasurable,’ Singh continues. ‘You can have deep musical experiences that cover a whole range of emotions. It could be ecstatic. It could be terrifying. That’s what music can do for people. Why would we shy away from those extremes? Classical music probably doesn’t embrace joy and fun and humour enough, but it’s OK to play music that shocks people too. If we limit ourselves to one thing, we’re limiting our existence.’

Dublin-born, Manchester-based cellist Peggy Nolan has played with the Collective since 2019. She reiterates Singh’s ideas about belief and conviction from her own perspective within the ensemble. ‘What we do is not always safe music. But actually, it’s a difficult time to be a musician, and you really have to believe in what you’re doing, and do it with as much energy and commitment as you can muster. We can’t preach about the transformative power of music if we’re not giving it our all.’

In its eight years of existence, Manchester Collective has offered a sometimes bewilderingly broad spectrum of work. ‘Even in our first concert,’ remembers Singh, ‘there was Biber and Cage in the first half, then Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht, and we sat in the round in a Manchester mill.’ Since then the Collective has collaborated with cellist–composer Abel Selaocoe, soprano Ruby Hughes, harpsichordist Mahan Esfahani, field recordist Chris Watson, guitarist Sean Shibe, jazz pianist Fergus McCreadie and theatre company Slung Low (plus many others), and played music from established classics through to works by George Crumb, Julius Eastman, Edmund Finnis and Hannah Peel. It made its BBC Proms debut in 2021, and two years later won the Royal Philharmonic Society’s ensemble award.

It’s played in some memorable spaces, too. For Nolan, one in particular made an indelible impression. Salford’s White Hotel is a former warehouse now transformed into a club, hidden in an industrial estate not far from Strangeways prison. ‘It was the coldest, dirtiest venue, and I remember wearing a woolly hat and about twelve layers to play. It was a really classic Manchester Collective experience.’

Also part of the experience for the group’s musicians is responding to the events’ audiences, who may be quite a different crowd from listeners they’d encounter in more traditional concert halls. ‘It actually feels more like a social occasion,’ Nolan continues. ‘When you come in, there’s background music and everyone’s got a drink. It makes people feel they’re on a night out. I think there’s actually a great sense of comfort in the room, which is really nice – and we feel that as well, as players.’

A masked member of the ensemble performs in Manchester

Rakhi Singh performs with the Collective at the CLF Art Cafe in Peckham, London

CÉSAR VASQUÉZ ALTAMIRANO

‘THE MORE YOU’RE ABLE TO SEE THINGS FROM DIFFERENT ANGLES, THE MORE MALLE ABLE AND FLUID YOU BECOME AS A PERSON’ – RAKHI SINGH

Originally from Minnesota, fellow cellist Nicholas Trygstad has lived in the north of England since his student days at the RNCM, and has been principal cellist with Manchester’s Hallé orchestra since 2005. He’s played with Manchester Collective since almost its founding. ‘One of the first projects I did was at the White Hotel, which is indeed quite notorious,’ he laughs. ‘I’ve never experienced that much dry ice before in my life – I’m much more comfortable in sanitised, climate-controlled concert hall conditions. I wasn’t much looking forward to the concert, to be honest. There was electronic music in the first half, and a kind of background hum of chat from the audience. But when we later played Schubert’s “Death and the Maiden” Quartet, it was silent. It’s as if the music asked the audience to be quiet – it was a very natural, organic response.’

‘Alternative’ spaces such as the White Hotel have remained crucial settings for the Collective, despite its ever-higher soaring international profile. The gradient of that ascent, in fact, has been startlingly steep. Singh is unsurprisingly philosophical, however, when it comes to the very idea of the ensemble growing and developing. ‘There are two different aspects to it,’ she reflects. ‘First, how do we get more people through the door, and entice people to experience these things with us?’ Second, she says, are the performances themselves. ‘Personally, I feel I exist more on the stage, within the actual creation of the art.’ It’s all about ensuring that what audiences experience is worth them being there in the first place, she explains.

Part of the way Singh achieves that is with a sense of freedom and fluidity that might feel alien within the rather more regimented classical world – and one that requires a leap of faith from musicians. ‘I remember playing with the Scottish Ensemble on a dance collaboration based on Bach’s Goldberg Variations,’ she explains. ‘The choreographer, Örjan Andersson, was just wonderful, but in rehearsals, even the day before the first performance, he hadn’t decided how he wanted the show to end. That really filtered into me. So I don’t get stressed now if, let’s say, three weeks before a show opens, I don’t know what it’s going to look and feel like. I know I will know at the time.’

Not having all the answers at the start of the process is part of a broader sense of flexibility, she feels. ‘The more you’re able to see things from different angles, the more malleable and fluid you become as a person, and the more parts of yourself you discover. I’m half Indian, and I remember going to India and seeing many things done very differently there.’ She’s keen, she says, to discover by doing, rather than through too much overthinking and pre-planning. ‘People should be able to go off and do what they want – some of it will work, and some of it won’t, but at least you’ll be the wiser for having tried it. It’s only by making mistakes that we gain that experiential knowledge.’

That way of working takes some getting used to, both Nolan and Trygstad agree; but it also offers greater opportunities to be involved creatively during concert preparations. And indeed, the Collective’s musicians are fundamental to its identity, and heavily involved in what it does and how it does it. ‘It’s a rotating group,’ explains Nolan, ‘so you’re always working with new people, which means ideas spark from person to person.’ Perhaps because of its more ambitious performances, the group devotes more time to rehearsal than other ensembles might. ‘It’s never “just enough”,’ says Nolan. ‘There’s time to

experiment, to get into the music in depth and be curious about it.’ And, she continues, musicians are actively encouraged to make themselves familiar with the full scores of pieces they’re playing, rather than just their individual parts. ‘Maybe “expected” is the wrong word! But you’re encouraged to play a full part in the interpretative process.’

With the group being conductorless, Singh identifies an energy flowing between players as something it tries to achieve. ‘The Collective starts to exist as a single organism. It might take a bit more time than if we had a conductor, but it yields deeper results. I’ll have a vision of how I want things to sound and feel, but it’s really important that everyone can contribute, and that all the musicians feel they can be their most courageous selves, without fear.’

Trygstad makes some wry comparisons with more traditional roles in a classical orchestra. ‘There, you’re often left holding your tongue. Sometimes it can be the entire orchestra holding their tongues because they’re so well disciplined – but the conductor doesn’t have the answers! In the Collective, it’s as much about the process as the product. We can reach levels of understanding and richness that you just don’t get when you go for immediate results, or try to take short cuts in the rehearsal process.’ When we speak, Singh wonders whether the Collective’s musicians will agree that they’re able to contribute freely and fully to rehearsals. She needn’t have worried. ‘The thing about Rakhi,’ says Nolan, ‘is that she has such a strong musical identity, but she’s also one of the most curious musicians I’ve ever worked with. It’s a great combination of huge conviction, but also huge openness.’

Singh’s openness, in fact, extends to a broad range of musical activities: as well as being the Collective’s music director, she’s also a soloist and a composer. She included one of her own pieces – the sonically sumptuous Sabkha, blending violin and electronics – on her solo debut CD, Purnima, released at the end of 2023 (reviewed in the January 2024 issue). ‘All those things feel very important,’ she says, ‘and they do feed back into my work with the Collective. But I think it’s good for me to be honing my activities outside the Collective too. I guess at some point I’d like to dedicate more time to writing and creating – maybe that shift will come sooner rather than later.’

Perhaps not coincidentally, the Collective is currently looking for a co-artistic director to work alongside Singh in planning future concerts and overall strategy. Indeed, Singh acknowledges a tougher side to a career that’s spread across different areas of music creation, each of them pushing at boundaries. ‘If you’re investing in this as a way of life, you’re choosing the path of a warrior. It’s not like you get to a certain stage and think, “Great, I’ve done all the work, and now everything’s going to be easy.” If what you’re doing is about self-growth all the time, then you’re going to be faced with things that are uncomfortable. But that creativity is kind of regenerative: you push yourself, you achieve, you feel good, you collapse, you rest, and then the cycle goes on.’

For his part, Trygstad has gained a new perspective on the Collective as a member of the group’s board. ‘I was excited to be invited, and it makes you feel much more part of the Collective’s broader direction. When you’re an instrumental student, of course, the only things that matter are practice, lessons and performances, but this kind of role makes you far more aware of the bigger decisions a group has to make.’

‘IN THE COLLECTIVE, WE CAN REACH LE VELS OF UNDERSTANDING THAT YOU JUST DON’T GET WHEN YOU GO FOR IMMEDIATE RESULTS’ – NICHOL AS TRYGSTAD, CELLO

Rakhi Singh (bottom left) and fellow musicians of the Collective

VIC FRANKOWSKI

Members of Manchester Collective perform music from their album Neon at London’s Southbank Centre

ALAN KERR

After 19 years with the Hallé, Trygstad is now also head of strings at the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire, meaning quite a change in career direction (though he plans to continue as a Manchester Collective player). He was already involved in education in Manchester, teaching at the RNCM. ‘But I’d say that being in the Collective has probably led me to want to go further into education, and to be interested in how we’re training our young musicians to understand the bigger picture of what being an artist is today. Being on the board of the Collective has led me to ask what I can do to learn more about leadership skills too.’ As a result he has taken a course with the US-based Global Leaders Institute, gaining an MBA specifically focused on the arts.

Trygstad’s teaching in Manchester has, however, helped him identify strong parallels between young musicians’ concerns and what the Collective offers. ‘It’s a completely different ball game from when I was a student. Young people now are passionate about under-represented groups, and about equality, diversity and inclusion. If I was generalising about my generation, I’d say people were concerned with meeting the standard that was required of them by the hierarchy, with joining the established system. My students are more interested in doing the things they love.’ And the Collective’s ethos seems close to that perspective on music. ‘My students at the RNCM are always at Manchester Collective concerts, and noticing what the group’s doing.

And they’re doing their own concerts in more alternative spaces, and copying what they see.’

Interest in the Collective isn’t just coming from Manchester’s young musicians, though, says Trygstad. ‘I’d say that the Collective is definitely having an impact on symphony orchestras too – the Hallé’s chief executive David Butcher comes to our concerts, and I took music director Mark Elder along to a concert with Crumb’s Voice of the Whale. More established organisations are noticing.’

Another more established organisation that’s clearly noticed the Collective’s work is the BBC Philharmonic, based in the same city, of which Szabo has been director since February this year. One of its founders departing – no doubt to shake up a pillar of Manchester’s classical music establishment – means a crucial, fork-in-the-road moment in the Collective’s evolution. Where next? ‘Well, you don’t have a relationship with a boyfriend, then try to replace them with the same person,’ laughs Singh. ‘Not that Adam was my boyfriend – but we’re not expecting to find Adam mark 2.’

It’s an open question as to what future developments might be in store for the Collective. The group’s identity and attitude towards performance is so distinctive and influential that it’s natural to wonder whether we should expect more of the same, or a direction that’s pioneering and challenging in an entirely new way. ‘It feels to me more than ever that the group belongs to all of us,’ says Trygstad. ‘For board, players and team there’s a big question: where does this thing go? Maybe it’s like curling: we’re all sweeping in front of the stone to let the thing get to where it’s going to end up.’

‘I remind myself that change is not bad,’ says Singh. ‘Change is inevitable and absolute. It’s glorious, and uncomfortable. And it’s also time for renewal.’