Name: Liquid Magenta by Jim Lynch
Duration: 4 min 1 s
Description: Twelve gentle, melodic and ethereal electronic pieces.

Performed by violinist Lieva Starker in Birmingham.

"Desire, however, returns in a different guise in Pierre-Henri’s composition, 'Spelling and Sounds'. Here, and unlike some of the lusher melodic lines heard before, desire is incessant, if not "obsessive", as the liner notes suggest. The constant—almost aggressive—return to a single idea in this work makes it perhaps one of the most cohesive on the album, but it also recasts the intimate medium of the solo violin as a medium well-suited to searching, or even digging, into its rich sonic palate." William Fourie for Music in Africa 
https://www.musicinafrica.net/magazine/lieva-starker-–-weerspieëlings

Spelling And Sounds (excerpt)

A simple orchestral dance in 3/4 time— a wistful echo of the lightness of days, of carefree joy, of dance and warm companionship. This episode is a classic waltz, borne by the strings, adorned with the whimsical grace of woodwinds. It shares a final dream of that light-hearted time, just before the suite draws us with the next episode (No.05) toward the twilight of life.

Pandemic Suite – 04. Danse Noble

After the lament and the full reckoning with horror of No.5, 6 and 7, this section totally changes the mood. It gives way to a profound solitude. It is voiced by a solitary piano, playing a simple four-part prelude— distant from present events, distant from our time. Its sound harks back to the Baroque era, as if echoing from a world long past.

Pandemic Suite – 08. Preludium

The time of the pandemic was marked by countless endless, solitary wanderings through nature. This is captured in this piece for piano and bassoon: as footsteps move steadily through deep snow, memories drift past the mind’s eye— silent, fleeting, and profound.

Pandemic Suite – 09. Lonely Walk

The time of the pandemic led to the isolation of people. This is rendered in sound by a solitary harp, a flute, a clarinet, and a bassoon. Scattered across the vast space, these instruments whisper their sorrow— not in unison, not in dialogue, but each alone, unanswered, unheard, isolated.

Pandemic Suite – 06. Lost

This section of the suite gives voice to a gradual collapse. 
It begins with a distress call— two flutes sounding the alarm— and the orchestra rises in a surge of defiance. But slowly, disorder seeps into harmony, and unity begins to fracture. The trombones, the trumpets, the woodwinds, the harp — each desperately striving to find unity with the strings. Note by note, the ensemble dissolves into despair, an orchester unraveling in sorrow's embrace. At last, beneath the faint tremolo of the timpani, the music comes to a complete and haunting standstill.

Pandemic Suite – 05. Demise

She comes as light or as shadow, as storm or as breath. She appears and she disappears, untamed. 
Love, a fleeting spark that molds our soul, giving us strength, taking it again, and often she is just an echo lost in time's quite depth. 
A sensual saxophone, a contemplative piano, and a restrained string orchestra mourn the elegy of love. Behind the veil of tender notes and simple melodies and harmonies, there is a straining pulse, uneven, aching, drowned in melancholy. Deep within it is quietness, a love undone, too sad to tell.

Pandemic Suite – 11. Lost Love

An orchestral cry of rebellion, a fierce uprising against despair. 
But the strength is fleeting— and the music collapses back into itself, like a wave that rose too high, only to break in silence.

Pandemic Suite – 10. Rebellion

A work for solo flute and soundtrack. The title consists of synonyms referring to ‘holding on’, alluding to the interaction of the flautist with her flute and also to the soundtrack. The playing techniques frequently rely on the rolling of the flute blowing into the instrument at different angles. The ‘holding on’ can be seen both as a metaphor for a delicate dance, while also trying to keep up with a ‘moving’ soundtrack. It has a concealed, pulse-like character, with pulses mostly scattered throughout the work, making consecutive ones an infrequent occurrence. This absence does not prevent the meticulous following of the soundtrack and its synchronisation. This supports an ongoing goal of the composer working towards a more involved and musical ‘coming-together’ of the electronic and acoustic, without the use of, for example, a click track. The soundtrack thus functions as both an aesthetic
( sound/musical world) and practical artefact (cue provider/machine).
The soundtrack is constructed from a recorded session in which the playing possibilities and extended flute techniques of the flautist Liesl Stoltz, for whom the piece was written, were explored.

The flute was recorded by Stradisphere Music.

Love.Lock.Nestle

Voodoo in my veins

Twelve gentle, melodic and ethereal electronic pieces. 


Awake the Lotus

Liquid Magenta

I am a composer and producer of instrumental music in several genres, including ambient soundscapes, electronica, orchestral and chamber music.  

Musical influences include John Coltrane, Igor Stravinsky, Gustav Holst, Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel, Tangerine Dream, Robert Prince, Frank Zappa, Brian Eno, Heinrich Ignaz, Franz von Biber.

My Method of Composing and Producing
------------------------------------------
I'm sharing my method of composing and producing music recordings in case other composer-producers like me might find ideas worth exploring in their own work. I use this method for Classical, Avant-Pop or Neo-Folk Instrumental genres, not for Ambient and Soundscape pieces. Non-composers might find this explanation interesting, but having a bit of music theory background will definitely help. I consider myself a humble learner when it comes to music theory. 

I owe a debt of gratitude to British musician and educator Gareth Green, whose Music Matters online courses and free YouTube lessons have taught me so much over the past few years. Thanks to his instruction, I’ve moved from struggling to compose music by trial and error to something more enjoyable and productive. The knowledge I've gained has taken my work in new and expanding directions. As the saying goes, “Theory is not a cage — it’s a map. It doesn’t make the journey for you, but it keeps you from getting lost.” 

When I start a new piece, I begin by choosing a key, and picking a scale drawn from one of these sources:
 
1) Western Tonal / Functional Harmony - major or minor chords I II III IV V VI VII
2) Modal Harmony - Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, etc.
3) Slonimsky's "Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns" 
4) Messiaen’s "Seven Modes of Limited Transposition" 

For many pieces, I also decide on a progression, one as a simple as I IV V, or something more elaborate.  

Next I create a "scales and progressions" piano track in my DAW (digital audio workstation software) and enter the chords I to VII in my chosen key. These harmonized scales serve as a basis for writing multipart harmonies and finding pivot chords for key modulations. 

At the start, I know what instruments I want to use, making adjustments along the way. I tend to write chord parts first, then melodies created through a mix of improvisation and direct input in the DAW. Sometimes I start with a melody.

I develop melodies and variations of a phrase by some combination of: a) passing it from one instrument to another, transposing it by an interval that sounds pleasing, b) reversing it, c) inverting it around the tonic (first) note of the scale. These are well-known methods. 

After completing a section, I choose another scale and maybe a new key and repeat the process until I have a draft of the entire piece. Then I export a recording and listen to it “offline”, take notes of errors and new ideas, and incorporate them back into the piece. Often this “compose / listen / compose” cycle is repeated many times. These iterative cycles include adding new ideas, polishing transitions between sections, changing the arrangement, and incorporating expressive details like accents, and articulations (staccato, sustain, portato etc.). I’m often working several different pieces at once. 

Last is mixing and mastering: balancing the loudness between instruments and adjusting elements like reverb, compression, and equalization. I tend to mix as I compose, even though many producers frown on that approach. I find mixing as I go helps me envision the completed piece and make adjustments to the choice of instruments; it self-inspires me when the piece is starting to sound good.  At the end I do a final mix, but as the saying goes, “A mix is never finished — it’s surrendered.”

In the end, this method gives me a basis for exploration and creativity and helps me stay focused. The goal is always to make a piece of music that feels expressive, cohesive, and emotionally resonant.

Liquid Magenta

Jim Lynch

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