A Century of Ton de Leeuw: The Quest for ‘Being’

The significance of Ton de Leeuw (1926–1996) for Dutch musical life can hardly be overstated. He was not only a composer, but also a tireless champion of contemporary music and of dialogue between East and West. From the 1960s onward, he traveled to India, Indonesia, and other Asian nations to study traditional music. He incorporated the underlying philosophies into his own work, which is often described as ‘music of being’. As a composition teacher, he helped countless emerging composers discover their own voices. Through hundreds of radio lectures and as a university lecturer in twentieth-century music, he inspired professionals and curious music lovers alike to embrace contemporary music. His still inspiring 1964 book, Music of the Twentieth Century, was the proverbial icing on the cake.

Eye-opener

Ton de Leeuw’s cradle stood in Rotterdam, where he was born into a musical family on 16 November 1926. His parents sang in Toonkunst Rotterdam and his father performed as a baritone soloist; he can even be heard on a 78-rpm record performing songs by Johannes Verhulst and César Franck, accompanied by a harmonium. Ton began learning the piano at the age of three; his older sister Lies occasionally had to step in when his hands proved too small for the music of Bach. During the bombing of Rotterdam on 14 May 1940, the family home was spared, but they moved to Breda later that year. There, Ton soon took lessons from organist and composer Louis Toebosch and learned to play the organ himself. He also took music lessons with Henri Geraedts and Everhard van Beijnum, passing the state examinations in piano, music theory, and music history in 1946. He subsequently studied composition for two years with Henk Badings.

When he accidentally tuned into an Arabic radio station, it proved to be a profound eye-opener: entirely different worlds and cultures existed beyond the Western sphere. De Leeuw sought inspiration in Eastern traditions and moved to Paris in 1949 to study for a year with Olivier Messiaen. The French master was renowned for his almost floating rhythms inspired by birdsong and Hindu scriptures, built on irregular units of eighth and sixteenth notes. De Leeuw shared Messiaen’s fascination with rhythm and Eastern philosophy.

Becoming and Being

Following his year with Messiaen, he studied ethnomusicology under Jaap Kunst, who had extensively analyzed the gamelan traditions of Bali and Java. For De Leeuw, the complex rhythmic structures and layered meter divisions provided the key to understanding their musical culture. Kunst spoke of ‘time conveyed in music’, an insight that resonated with De Leeuw immediately.

Furthermore, what drew him was that Eastern music was devoid of the wallowing emotional indulgence of the ‘ego’, which he so detested in much Western music. Refining Kunst’s observations, he drew a distinction between (Western) music of ‘becoming’ and (Eastern) music of ‘being’.

Western music is typically anchored in a key, revolving around a so-called ‘keynote’ or tonic. This forms both the starting point and destination of a composition. Through a progression of events, modulations, and climaxes, tension builds, ultimately resolving into the inevitable keynote: the goal of the journey.

Eastern music, by contrast, is not goal-oriented; it remains, as it were, motionless. De Leeuw drew a comparison with a kaleidoscope: the material continually shifts in color, yet essentially remains unchanged. There is movement, but not linear development. This yields a circular experience of time, leaving space to reflect on each individual element. ‘Expressivity is not the goal, but the result of the act of music-making,’ De Leeuw wrote in the introduction to his book. Where Westerners focus primarily on aesthetics, he argued, Eastern musicians work more from ethics, attentive to the spiritual source and healing aspects of music.

He held deep regard for composers like Debussy, Stravinsky, and Webern, who focused not on themselves, but on the music. He wrote: ‘The Romantic projects himself onto nature; Debussy listens first and foremost. Webern listens too. Silence becomes audible. […] The sound of an overwhelming universe, in which man has lost his central place.’ De Leeuw’s own treatment of rhythm and silence gave his music its characteristic meditative, almost static quality.

In 1963, he composed Symphonies of Winds for wind orchestra as an homage to Stravinsky’s Symphonies of Wind Instruments—composed in 1920 in memory of Debussy, who had passed away two years earlier. Stravinsky wove in fragments of the Russian Orthodox hymn ‘Eternal Memory’, from which De Leeuw, in turn, quoted the opening measures. Messiaen’s work on this program is likewise centered on commemoration: he composed Et exspecto resurrectionem mortuorum in 1964 in memory of the fallen of the two World Wars. It possesses a deeply ritual character that resonates superbly in the Laurenskerk.

In Remembrance

De Leeuw remained in contact with Messiaen throughout his life. At the request of Rokus de Groot, Messiaen penned a short analysis of his former student in an undated letter: ‘Ton de Leeuw’s music is essentially diatonic. He employs modes, melodic lines, counterpoint, and chords, but everything remains diatonic. Virtually no dissonances. The color is white, perhaps with a subtle touch of blue; at times a golden light joins in. […] Yet in spirit, his music always remains diatonic, in a static manner closely related to Eastern music, permeating listeners and transporting them into a state of waking dream.’ May the performance of Symphonies of Winds allow us to attain this state of being.

Text: Thea Derks
Illustration: Pépé Smit