United Kingdom David Grubb – Circadia: David Grubb (violin, viola, mandolin, musical saw), Annie Perry (clarinet, bass clarinet), Corben Lee (piano, keyboards), Daniel Whitting (acoustic guitar, electric guitar), Aidan Thorne (double bass, bass guitar), John Reynolds (drums). Richard Burton Theatre at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, 21.11.2024. (LJ)
‘Artist, string arranger, composer, performer’ – this is how Scottish-born musician David Grubb describes himself on his website. At the Richard Burton Theatre, Grubb lived up to his self-description. In fact, he was all of these things and more as he was also an assured leader who guided his musicians in a way that guaranteed balance, but not at the expense of spontaneity.
Perhaps Grubb’s strength in delivering such an immersive musical experience was testament, in part, to his feeling at home at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, which is his alma mater. Indeed, the RWCMD has an uncanny ability of making its audience feel just as ‘at home’ as its students (several of whom were in attendance) so clearly feel. Whilst this is largely due to the openness of the venue and its staff, surely this is also testimony to the centrality of music (and of the arts more broadly) to a shared sense of belonging and coming together. As such, this evening’s concert was a personal pleasure for me as I happily returned to the venue for the first time in nearly ten years.
There was a sense of coming full circle in the music too. For the first half, Grubb introduced us to his musical world. It is one that is full of textures, the distinctive sound of the electronic violin, percussive richness, and old soul melodies fused with Scottish fiddling to be enjoyed on tracks like ‘The Climb / 86th Floor Jig’ (from the album High Rise, released in 2014) and ‘Bliss Is Ignorance’ (from Nano, released in 2020). For the second half, Grubb took us through his concept album Circadia (released in 2024 on Cambrian Records). It is no coincidence that ‘Circadia’ refers to a twenty-four-hour cycle, or ‘body clock’, as each track evokes a moment during this cycle, as suggested by titles like ‘Daily Grind’ or ‘Dream Speak’. Throughout this half of the concert, Grubb used a video projection to chart our progression through the album, defining moments of sleep that are both familiar and unfamiliar to us all. The projection provided a useful – though not overly prescriptive – key to interpreting the soundworld of each piece.
Whilst Grubb’s music from Circadia seems to coax darker sides of our subconscious towards the surface, it does not abandon some lighter moments that can be enjoyed on tracks like the wonderfully titled: ‘Exploding Tetris’. His skill as a composer is in holding light and dark together, but, in a way that does not produce grey. In line with his psychoanalytical theme (evidenced by the recording of Sigmund Freud from the 1938 BBC ‘Spindles’), Cicadia could be said to delve not just into the Id and the Superego, but also the Ego; that state which mediates between the impulsive and the rational. This could be felt to great effect when the ensemble played ‘Hypnagogia’ which refers to the moment between wakefulness and sleep.
A similar skill in balancing opposites was expressed in the musicianship. Grubb’s ensemble was a major driving force behind the vibrancy of the evening’s music. They each distinctively coloured Grubb’s pieces so that ‘moving through the sleep phases’ (as the concert is described on the RWCMD website) became far more energising than one unfamiliar with Grubb’s music may have expected. Grubb primarily played the violin, but he also picked up the viola, mandolin, and musical saw – a testimony to his musical dexterity and folk routes. For the most post, Grubb and his fellow musicians moved seamlessly between their instruments, finding a worthwhile use for each. The mandolin worked very nicely for ‘Eigengrau’, but it sounded a little rushed in ‘The Somnambulist’. Annie Perry (clarinet), Corben Lee (piano and keyboards), Daniel Whitting (acoustic and electric guitars), Aidan Thorne (acoustic and electric bass), and Jon Reynolds (drums and percussion) were each on point. It was a rare treat to see the bass clarinet take centre stage and Annie Perry’s breath control and lyrical performance of the more lamenting pieces ‘Slow Wave’ and ‘The Somnambulist’ on the B♭ clarinet was brilliant.
Max Richter’s album Sleep (released in 2025 on Deutsche Grammophon) may come to mind to fans of concept albums that are centred on the idea of sleep or daily cycles and that use electronics to invert and refract traditional compositional styles. For Richter, Sleep is an eight-hour lullaby that is intended to be listened to at night. By contrast, Grubb’s mediation on the same theme is far less soporific. His compositions on the same theme are more folk-inspired and psychoanalytical. Grubb skilfully borrows from the minimalist classical style propounded by the likes of Philip Glass, Steve Reich, and indeed Richter, but listeners can also pick up influences from klezmer and Balkan traditions synonymous with the Krakow-based Kroke band (evident when Grubb’s ensemble played ‘Nightmare’). Such a range of stylistic roots in Circadia seem fitting for Grubb who is also a member of the Welsh trash-trad band NoGood Boyo and founder of the bluegrass Taff Rapids Stringband.
I left the Richard Burton Theatre at the RWCMD feeling re-energised. The fact that I am looking forward to returning to the RWCMD for Rachel Podger on 28 November (no ten-year hiatus this time!) and that I would happily return to hear more of David Grubb’s music is an indication of the richness of the College’s growing musical alumni and its continuing appeal to visitors old and new.
Lucy Jeffery