© Miel Pieters
Luc Brewaeys's Eighth Symphony: a true orgy of sound
Article
Few contemporary composers embody the art of symphonic writing as completely as Belgian composer Luc Brewaeys. On 27 March, the BNO will perform his Eighth Symphony — a work left unfinished at the time of his passing in 2015. His close collaborator and former student Annelies Van Parys took on the challenge of completing the final movement of this monumental score, drawing inspiration from Brewaeys’ sketches and from the Japanese art of kintsugi, in which broken pottery is repaired with golden lacquer, turning its cracks into a source of beauty and strength.
“It’s very suspenseful…,” remarked Arturo Tamayo after the first orchestral rehearsal of Luc Brewaeys’ Eighth Symphony. For its premiere at Ars Musica in 2004, only two of the four planned movements were complete, yet together they formed a fascinating diptych. Both movements end in a similar way to the ear, largely due to the use of percussion material: the first closes in a blazing fortissimo, the second fades away in a whispering pianissimo.
When the symphony was performed again at Ars Musica in 2010, Brewaeys once more kept the audience on the edge of their seats: the long-awaited grand finale had not yet been written. It might have seemed like a composer’s practical joke, if the work hadn’t remained unfinished. The inevitable comparison with Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony was more of an insult than a compliment — Brewaeys had little admiration for Franz Schubert.
Unfinished, yet already performed twice — one could call that a success. And rightly so: the three completed movements offer a stunning snapshot of Brewaeys’ symphonic language. Throughout his orchestral work, Brewaeys developed a distinctly personal form of spectralism, one infused with rhythmic vitality and powerful melodic lines. His Eighth Symphony was consciously modelled on Beethoven’s Eighth, one of his favourite works: “Beethoven intended his Eighth to be a cheerful piece. Mine won’t be quite that joyful, but it will be an ode to sound — and to the joy of making music.”
As in Symphony No. 7, Brewaeys shines a spotlight on the wind section — a heartfelt tribute to his close friend, jazz and wind music producer Miel Van Attenhoven. The five horns act almost as soloists: most melodic developments emerge from their lines, while the rest of the orchestra builds lush textures around them. “The symphony is conceived as a kind of orgy of sound,” Brewaeys revealed in his program notes.
“Beethoven intended his Eighth to be a cheerful piece. Mine won’t be quite that joyful, but it will be an ode to sound — and to the joy of making music.”
Composer Annelies Van Parys, a close friend and former student of Luc Brewaeys, recently immersed herself in the sketches for the final movement of this Eighth Symphony in order to complete the work, drawing inspiration from Luc’s style and notes: “I tried to write something that honours his fragments while also adding something new to connect them all, a bit like kintsugi, the Japanese art of repair that uses a different colour. […] At the same time, I want to make sure that the material I add clearly refers back to Luc. […] It’s still a kind of search, but a deeply exciting one.”
After the rather unusual Sixth and Seventh symphonies, the Eighth rekindles some of that exuberant “Brewaeys touch”: musicians swap their instruments for tuned Coca-Cola bottles, bell-like tones echo from the percussion, and toward the end of the third movement, the trumpets and three of the five horns retreat backstage. Of the much-anticipated finale, only a few lines were ever written, but for those familiar with his complete symphonies, it takes little imagination to hear the fireworks bursting forth.
Based on an excerpt from Fasten Seat Belts! Celebrating Luc Brewaeys © Luc Brewaeys Foundation, MATRIX [Centrum voor Nieuwe Muziek], 2025.
