The world is familiar with stories of clever forgers whose life’s mission is to cunningly reproduce the light and shadows of historical masterworks, from Vermeer’s brushstrokes to Da Vinci’s proportional precision… but what if these crimes of craftsmanship were to extend beyond the visual arts? What if the pieces we know to be by Palestrina, Monteverdi or even Johann Sebastian Bach were in fact stylistic copies, artfully composed by a secret circle of music forgers and passed off as the work of the greats? What if those music forgers are at work as we speak?
This premise inspires our original program The Music Forgery Workshop. Our early music comedy imagines the lives of such a circle of musical criminals, offering a fresh and lively presentation of historical compositions, not as museum artifacts but as living works in progress. The workshop itself is set up on the stage and its members carry forth the plot in music and words. A narrator in the role of a suspicious inspector lends the performance a theatrical flow. The listener is invited into a satire on high society’s art commerce, while the performers make fun of themselves for having devoted their lives to the niche subject of historical music performance.
Violinist Elizabeth Sommers combines her skills and experience in traditional music with expertise in the performance and improvisation of medieval and Renaissance repertoires. Multi-instrumentalist Eliot X. Dios (keyboards, bagpipes and flutes) works wholeheartedly to employ storytelling techniques developed through the history of literature and cinema in his early music concerts. Composer Gunnar Haraldsson (violin, guitar) seeks to translate the forms and intentions of early composition for a modern audience. Halldór B. Arnarson (keyboards, voice) has devoted his career to bringing musical craftsmanship from the era of counterpoint to the attention of the public and comedy to the early music scene. Singer and storyteller Ásta S. Arnardóttir brings the storyline to the public with personal immediacy, and through her character work defines the different veins of the show, sometimes hilarious and sometimes serious.
The story is narrated by the character of the Inspector, acted out by the members of the MFW, and told in rhyming Icelandic verse in one musical pillar of the show, a madrigal composed by our very own
Halldór in the style of Monteverdi. The show has an entertaining educational dimension. The audience is exposed to a broad sweep of historical and musical information in a condensed form, necessary to understand the musical humour, while dramatic rhythm and scenographic effects prevent overwhelm. We also place particular emphasis on theatrical illusion and synchronisation. One example appears in the opening scene, in which the inspector is seen watching television. On stage, this becomes a complex exercise in coordination: each time the inspector presses a button on the remote control, the musicians instantly switch pieces, creating the impression of rapidly changing television channels.
This opening scene establishes the tone of the entire show, comical and satirical in its storytelling and diverse in its musical language. It not only introduces the wide range of musical styles that appear throughout the performance, but also functions as the plot’s inciting incident, as the inspector hears a news report about the discovery of a previously unknown concerto by Vivaldi.
Another important scene takes place when one forger is alone on stage in low light, perusing books on medieval music, while the musicians perform and sing offstage, sounding his audiation as he reads. This intimate moment evokes the sleepless nights spent studying facsimiles and learning historical compositional techniques, by which the forger acquires the inspiration and the expertise necessary to his art, and reveals a hidden side of musical performance: the immense amount of study and preparation that precedes the moment on stage. This setting also creates space for visual and musical comedy, as seen in the trailer video, where a 14th-century melody is played backwards because Halldór is unknowingly reading the facsimile upside-down, only realising the mistake when the music begins to sound absurd.
Fun and friendship are at the heart of the whole project, though the link between music and crime is an important historical consideration. Classical music was often used as the demonstration of a monarch’s power, music teaching as a cover up for secret affairs, and pieces were published under another’s name for profit. Such examples of “inappropriate practices” carry an exciting and attractive element for the audience which the MFW seeks to exploit. Under this light-hearted surface lies a more serious layer of questions concerning our present-day existence, such as excessive materialism in high society and the threat posed on human craftsmanship and skill by the rise of artificial intelligence.
