The violin was my first rosy eyed love, aside from Special Agent Dana Scully, naturally. I trained classically as a violinist from when I was 6 (mainly at first out of jealousy after seeing my sister playing the cello) and became obsessed with the romantic, emotionally dramatic side of classical music, those pieces that put a lump in your throat and make your eyes tear up, you know the ones I mean? Then as a teenager, I trod that familiar route of falling in love with rock, trading in my emotional-drama-music listening from Mahler to My Chemical Romance for a while. After sidestepping the traditional classical route and studying songwriting (it turns out I’m pretty terrible at that) I came back to classical music, this time with an obsession for living composers that push classical music to its extremes and its harshest, strangest, darkest places. I started composing music for theatre after a similarly-inclined-to-the-strange friend asked me to write something that combined everything I loved, emotionally intense strings and chest-rattling post-rock. Now it’s become my main approach to composing; somewhere in-between transcendent, ethereal harmony, and noise that punches you in the gut. I once met Steve Reich and awkwardly described my work to him as “somewhere between Arvo Pärt and Marilyn Manson”, and I think that’s probably the best way to describe it.