The Book of Fixed Stars
You may have learned at some point that the elements of music are rhythm, harmony, and melody. Yet we can experience each of these on its own. I recently had a conversation about the appeal of Ludovico Einaudi’s music, which by chance was the first composer I thought of when auditioning this new release by Charlie Hooper-Williams. My answer was, incidentally, that Einaudi’s music is hyper-focused on harmony. And yes, people like tonal harmony.
There’s one tool we use as composers—maybe not a tool but a technique—to hook the listener: repetition. Give me something interesting to hear, then give it to me again. Once you recognize how powerful this technique is, you start to notice it as an almost necessary component of music. It is omnipresent in popular music, often present in jazz, and even the sonata form in classical music embraces it. Few composers can get away with not repeating something. I think it ultimately feels good to hear it again.
Charlie Hooper-Williams is a tonal composer, one who exploits both harmony and repetition to great effect across this album, The Book of Fixed Stars. The composer performs here on piano, unfolding harmonies that evoke sometimes dark, sometimes mood-laden affects, with a right hand that tickles those other elements of music: rhythm and melody.
An additional musical element—what we might call style or dressing—is also important to this composer’s works. Another composer that came to mind, to give you a sense of Hooper-Williams’ style, is George Winston. Evocative harmonic progressions, a strong repetitive element in the hands, and ultimately a musical experience that makes you feel good.
The composer was formerly one of the developers of the Shazam app and has built a career around live piano performance using computer-generated graphic projections. The piano pieces here are aided by strings, which provide more of that stylistic color that becomes apparent the deeper you delve into the album. It’s been suggested that the composer’s style sits close to that of Max Richter and Nils Frahm; I see the resemblance but would say his style isn’t one I’d confuse with Richter’s—which I think is a strength we can attribute to both musicians. Frahm’s piano playing is more active and athletic, I believe, than Hooper-Williams’.
The fourth track, Cloudgazing, however, I might mistake for an Einaudi piece. The character isn’t quite melancholy, but it would make for a perfect soundtrack to a rainy afternoon, one spent indoors in the comfort of a sofa and a generous blanket.
In The Sea Was Never Blue, the composer exploits harmony and repetition again, this time with faster fingers. The harmonies and repetitive figures aren’t revolutionary in any way, but just before the two-minute mark he changes course with a new harmonic sequence, showing me, at least, that he’s sensitive to the balance between boring the listener and keeping them engaged. The piece is a successful one, I think, for how the composer achieves drama by eschewing the rhythmic component that began the piece and ending with straight harmonies and a slow, octave-enhanced melody by itself. His structure for this piece might be boring if it were repeated in other works, but here, coupled with a smart and foundational harmonic pattern, it provides us an opportunity both to think and to enjoy the power of harmony.
In Sailing the Farm, the composer creates something that calls out to the kind of music fit for cinema. The digital, synthesized component enhances the piano in a good way. The part for piano is simple and repetitive, meaning our minds need something a bit more interesting to remain focused. I kept seeing a kid biking down a road, the camera sweeping to reveal remarkable scenery. You may conjure your own images, but it speaks to how the composer uses imagery as part of his performance practice. Of all the pieces on this album, this is the one that could most benefit from that visual component. The ending, when it comes, is simple—too simple—suggesting that the experience wasn’t so much a “piece” as an aural vignette. It’s easy to imagine a fade-out in grand cinematic style. I’d come back to this track in a heartbeat if I were a filmmaker.
I auditioned this album digitally, but it’s also being released on vinyl. While my comments above focused more on the composer’s style than on performance, the performances themselves are clean, and the balance between strings, piano, and synthesizers is well considered.
Charlie Hooper-Williams’ Fixed Stars won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but there’s nothing offensive about his style or his music. As much as I enjoy the complexities found in classical and baroque repertoire, I also like music like this—music that is harmony-forward, that because of its repetitive nature is easily understood, placing us in a safe and comfortable position to think and perhaps even meditate. If you can allow the composer-pianist to pull you along through these short—but not too short—journeys, I think you may feel better off five minutes later.
