“You can’t do this on your own, and I don’t think anyone’s intended to do it on their own. If you’re an artist, you are typically responding to what’s around you, and therefore you need dialogue.”
Alice Beckwith
Alice Beckwith (b. 1989) is a British composer from Halifax, West Yorkshire, whose music has been described as “beguiling” and “exquisite”. Alice’s sound is lyrical and contemporary — her melodic sound firmly rooted in the British Isles — with an emphasis above all on storytelling; her work has been commissioned and performed by leading ensembles including The Choir of Trinity College Cambridge, St Endellion Easter Festival, Endelienta Baroque, The Carice Singers, and &Piano Music Festival. Alice was awarded First Prize at the Charles Wood Festival Composers’ Competition 2025; she was one of 6 composers to participate in Cheltenham Composer Academy 2023 with The Carice Singers, and she was Composer-in-Residence with with Lodge Moor Children’s Choir, Sheffield, between 2020-22; upcoming commissions include new works for Thomas Kemp (Music@Malling) and Salford Cathedral. Alice studied at the Junior RNCM before reading Music at Lincoln College, Oxford University; subsequently pursuing further postgraduate studies in Composition at the Royal Academy of Music. She is currently a composer with Music Patron.
On 19th June, Alice’s new commission for Thomas Kemp at Music@Malling is being premiered in collaboration with Yotes Court Vineyard. Ahead of the premiere, we spoke with Alice over Zoom, discussing female empowerment, psalms, Yorkshire-ness, finding support as an artist, and more…
Header photo by Cassandra Lane
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Zyggy/PRXLUDES: Hi Alice! Thanks so much for joining me today. A lot of your work concerns ideas of storytelling through music — can you tell me a bit about your musical background, and where these ideas of storytelling came from for you?
Alice Beckwith: I had an exceptional music teacher at school — and I think honestly, that is where the foundation was truly laid. He’s someone who encouraged me from the age of 11, and suggested I might be a musician. I also did a lot of dancing (ballet, tap, modern), so I already had this love of big orchestral scores and theatre; I learned a lot about music through my dancing lessons. I was learning the piano, and playing oboe and violin… But it was this teaching at school that encouraged me to compose. Junior RNCM was also a big factor. I started there when I was 15, and I had composition lessons — which I needed alongside musicianship and everything else in parallel.
At some point, I realised how much music meant to me in terms of expression — and that’s how I found my place. It’s this freedom that music gives. It takes you away from the day to day. I know that my music does that, now — it’s something I seek to do — and if I can convey a message, all the better. I don’t always mean storytelling as “with a narrative”. Storytelling can stir emotions, or direct somebody somewhere else — but that might be individual, from person to person. I think that’s fabulous, as well: the dialogue that people have within themselves.
I’d love to explore that a bit more. Do you feel like your music stems from a kind of internal or emotional place for you?
It’s important that I share what’s true to me. I find that when I do that work, and dig deep, and find a way to express that musically, it resonates with other people. There’s that amazing quote at Conway Hall, “to thine own self be true”… For all composers, for all artists, to have the courage to do that — to be able to find a way of expressing that — means that your work will resonate with other people.
I think there’s a conviction that’s often at the root of things. For example, the string quartet that I wrote years ago… I’d had a week at Aldeburgh as a Hesse student; I’d heard so much music, but the pieces that stood out were those that were so concisely written — they knew what they wanted to say, and they said it so clearly. That quartet came together so quickly because I was so clear about how to articulate those musical ideas.
There’s something internal, initially. And then the music is a way of expressing that, or articulating that. Whether that is partnered with a text — I think it’s [often] easier to relate to vocal pieces when there’s a text involved — or not; it’s important to me that I’ve got the tools, musically, to convey the message.
Speaking of messages, I really enjoyed listening to your cantata ‘The Golden Thread’. The cantata drew on biblical and mythological texts to tell a story of female empowerment. Can I ask whereabouts the ideas for the piece came from?
It was based on Angela Carter’s retelling of The Erl-King; there’s a whole collection of short stories [ed. The Bloody Chamber and Other Short Stories], and this is one. They’re dark — I mean, I’m familiar with the Schubert… But Angela Carter reframes the narrative from the start, from a young woman’s perspective: this entrapment through innocence, and transition into knowledge.
At the time, there were very contemporary themes in society of female subjugation, particularly. I was feeling that personally. I felt that this was an opportunity to somewhat reframe the narrative, and encourage sentiments of hope and strength — even though these circumstances might arise, there is a way through, and you can overcome.
The commissioner [ed. The Green Man Art Gallery, Buxton] said “you can have a singer and up to nine instruments” — but then I had to come up with a way of threading it together. I was doing a lot of research around the emotions that I wanted. I love Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, for example — a time for everything — that felt so apt. There’s a time for joy, there’s a time for death, there’s a time for renewal. I suppose there’s an uplift[ing] element of putting that narrative together. As you see the piece through, there are certain refrains that come back in different contexts: innocence, observing that the bird still sings in the cage — and then the horror of understanding that the caged bird might be this transformed, trapped being.
The female perspective was really key. I was relating to what was happening in society. But I didn’t want it to be a negative story; I wanted to present something that people could take away from. Hildegard von Bingen was my starting point: there’s a quote I put at the start of the score — “there is a power that has been since all eternity, and that force and potentiality is viriditas, the greening”. What I’m loving at the moment is RAYE, who is filling the world with all this uplift, and hope… I suppose I wanted to entwine all of that.
Of course. I feel like drawing from more “timeless” sources, so to speak, makes it easier to acknowledge subjects that might otherwise be uncomfortable, or painful, to discuss.
An acknowledgement that we are all experiencing it. An acknowledgement of growth, and personal understanding… empowerment. This was my way of putting that forward. Too often, we don’t admit to one another what we’re feeling, how things impact us. People read headline news before bed, and go to bed, and I just think “what might your dreams be about?”. I had awful dreams last night, but that’s neither here nor there. -laughs- I think sometimes, we just need to share: and if through my music, I can give people a moment of release, or space to contemplate, that’s not a bad thing. But I really wanted to lead this with the message that a woman can overcome.
People can be consumed by the negative, and I think that’s intentional from the media outlets. I’ve certainly seen friends struggling, trying to make sense of things. And sometimes they just need the encouragement to take the next step. I don’t know why, [but] I was reading through the Queen’s old speeches… She’s got a really good line in her 1981 Christmas Broadcast: “the golden thread of courage has no end”. And I just love it. That’s why it’s [called] The Golden Thread — to encourage us that this tiny, tiny thing, if we can find it, can move [us] forward.
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That’s the power of art, right? For me, it’s just about connecting with people — not trying to push boundaries for the sake of it, or appeasing critics or music elitists. Why make this stuff if not to try and bring people together?
I really feel that. I’ve had quite academic training, I suppose — as I guess have you — but I’m realising how much music means to community choirs, local ensembles… The musical organisations at the top, I do love writing for — Trinity College Choir Cambridge, Charles Wood Singers — but my love of music came from school, and Yorkshire Youth Orchestra! As a composer I’ve got a responsibility to everybody around me, and sometimes that means adapting my approach; bearing in mind that music is for everyone.
You mentioned that you grew up in Yorkshire, and a few of your works — including the fantastic ‘Five Armitage Songs’ — reflect the identity and cultural heritage of Yorkshire. Do you feel like your upbringing has been tied to your identity?
It takes time, I think, to understand your identity. When I left home, even though I didn’t think I sounded like I was from Yorkshire, I was so obviously from Yorkshire, all the time. My undergrad was in Oxford, and then I went to London… And it’s my accent that gives me away! Ways of being [also] — my approach to interaction with people, for example, which is where I think my desire to be a composer comes from, is influenced by where I’m from.
Leaning into who I am has been really key: I’m from Yorkshire, I’m so proud of it. -laughs- There have been frustrations when presumptions can be made about who I am, because of where I’m from. I’ve needed role models like Jess Gillam — hearing her accent on the radio, seeing her be her is really inspiring. We’re all trying to navigate who we are in order to have integrity in our work, and it’s taken time to say “this is who I am, this is what I want to do, this is what I need to do”.
And in what ways do these ideas of place and identity manifest in your work?
The Armitage Songs are a natural leading point from that question. That was such a privilege: to be commissioned by a festival (&Piano) in West Yorkshire, setting texts by someone (Poet Laureate, Simon Armitage) from West Yorkshire, and the opportunity to take the time to find texts that really spoke to my memories and experiences growing up.
Of those five texts we chose, the first one — ‘The Event Horizon’ — is actually inscribed on this metal plaque outside of Hallé St. Peters, so I see that every week when I go in for Hallé Choir rehearsals. ‘The Catch’ is about the cricket season; and ‘Mist’ is this beautiful yearning of grief, but hope, but mist. I suppose mist exists everywhere, but Yorkshire mist is Yorkshire mist… -laughs-
It’s tied up with cultural memory in a unique way.
One of those poems, ‘Give’, is [about] homelessness. It finishes with you give me tea / that’s big of you / I’m on my knees / I beg of you. Everywhere, there is poverty, and social imbalance… And sometimes, as artists, it’s easier to look for the “gloss” — the very strong, impactful stories which are impossible to ignore — but this reminds us that it’s the day to day that really matters. I deliberately set that song very simply, so that the text would come through. The whole song cycle — that opportunity to slightly pay homage to my upbringing — really meant a lot. That was a big step in asserting who I am as an artist: knowing that my upbringing, all that support I had in Yorkshire, set me on this path.
I get that. Like, cultural heritage as a lived, breathed, personal thing.
Growing up being in church communities, school communities… Those initial years — those “foundation” years until you’re 18 — really stay with you. Even though I’ve broadened my horizons in many ways, that upbringing is always part of me. Learning to trust myself that that’s who I am. An element of that will always come through in my music. I’m never going to write “clever” academic stuff, and that’s fine. There’ll always be a tint of Yorkshire.
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You’ve got a strong portfolio of choral pieces, particularly those with sacred themes. How do you tend to approach choral writing?
A lot of how I write came from The Carice Singers, and Cheltenham Composer Academy. It was so helpful to see directly what the impact was of notation, pitching individual lines in the context of the whole — how you might notate to make the most sense in limited rehearsal time. In the context of planning a piece: knowing your performers, knowing their limitations, the venue, the acoustic, is really key.
I’m drawn to setting psalms because of their uplifting message. Certainly with ‘God is our Refuge’ — it’s very powerful, but about hope, and exalts us to look beyond the here and now. I wrote that last summer for the Charles Wood Festival. The score really conveys my feeling, my sense of that text.
You’ve worked with both professional and community choirs; how has your approach differed depending on the type of group you’re writing for?
It’s very gratifying to feel that I can write effectively for a choral group; knowing where the parameters lie in different scenarios. I’m singing with the Hallé Choir — that’s a huge symphonic chorus. It’s very different to writing for The Carice Singers, or the Choir of Trinity College, Cambridge. I’ve set Psalm 100 recently; done as an anthem for Sunday services, which people often don’t have a lot of rehearsal time [for]. Thinking about divisi, and the acoustic in the building, is key to me. I find there’s something quite stirring in voices — that kind of unity when they blend can be really powerful. I love being able to commandeer that as a composer.
I’ve just written a piece for Salford Cathedral (one of six Cathedral Restoration Commissions). That’s not a psalm, per se; it’s a text that I’ve put together based on John 12 and Ephesians. They commissioned me to write a piece inspired by their West Window, which is inspired by John 12:32, “when I am lifted up”. The symbolism is of Christ, and everlasting life; there’s a chalice right at the top. At first, I found it quite daunting to write the text. Possibly, I’m drawn to setting psalms because the work is already there — they’re complete, the message is coherent — but it was really lovely to approach this a different way. I knew what message, what emotion, I wanted to convey, and then I found the text.
I love writing for church spaces — bearing in mind peoples’ state of mind when they might be there. There’s also an element of your music being the vehicle for these texts; and that takes the pressure off, at times. My role is to let the text come through and be conveyed effectively. As long as I do that authentically, there’s quite a joy and satisfaction… You just know when it’s right. You know, I’ve been listening to RAYE a lot — her song ‘Joy’, I’m sure she’s quoting one of the psalms (Psalm 30 and Psalm 91 feature). There’s a collective community within [all] this music — it provides a moment in time to be still, to come to ourselves. They’re powerful [pieces], but they’re peaceful.
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Alongside composition, you’ve also worked as a producer, educator, and creative arts practitioner. What perspectives do you feel these roles have added to your practice?
For a long time, I felt that I’d stepped away from composing — I had to, because I had to earn a living. I was working in arts admin, and working as a music educator; I was teaching piano, and teaching in schools. I had to put composing on a shelf, because sustaining that workload was taking everything. But I’ve since realised how valuable that time was. I was at English National Opera for a bit, and Ulverston International Music Festival — where I first saw Jess Gillam play at 15..!
The opportunity to stage The Golden Thread at Tête-à-Tête in 2023 is a good example of this. They offer this fantastic platform, but you are on your own in terms of setting it up — you’re fixing, you’re planning rehearsals, sorting out scores, staging. As a composer, you think you’ve done the work when you’ve delivered the score, but a lot of the time, it’s so essential to build on that — to organise performances, and to bring in an audience. So in hindsight, all that arts admin experience was very valuable.
I now understand organisational structure. I know that you need a fundraising team, and often they’re paid more than the marketing team… That dialogue between management and artist — how damaging that can be if that breaks down. I also know, from an artistic perspective, what is needed, what can often be lacking or not considered.
I get that, for sure. Composition isn’t a linear journey, right? It’s really important, as an industry, that we bear that in mind.
That’s a really good way of putting it. I think it’s very arbitrary that at 35, you’re not allowed to apply for anything else… It’s really annoying, because I’m 36. -laughs- It took me a long time to get to a point where I could consider allocating enough of my week to composing that I could move things forward. In the meantime, you’re making a living — and you’re not making that good of a living, because you’re in the arts.
The presumption is that the minute you’ve left education, you’ve been able to persevere and commit full-time to the arts. That’s the only way I can understand that there’s this age limit [to opportunities]: the presumption that you’ve been able to spend all of your time developing a career. It’s not the case. I don’t know anyone who is able to do that, from a financial perspective.
This particular London focus doesn’t help. When a lot of the opportunities [are] centred in London, unless you are able to find accommodation or have family there — which is an invisible barrier in itself — it’s much harder to develop a career, and establish a network. And a lot of this business is relationships.
I think, as a consequence, we [as an industry] lose out. I’ve met some amazing composers who’ve been frozen out because they’ve only just been able to find the courage, the stability, or the time in their life to actually pursue this. They’ve got superb musical voices — they should be heard — but they’re up against this presumption that you “leave an institution and everything [professionally] will work out”. I think that’s the window where more support is needed.
I understand you’re currently a Music Patron artist — what kind of support do you feel like organisations like Music Patron have provided for your development?
I am a bit unorthodox in my current situation. I’m being supported by friends. Music Patron has been amazing — money aside — to build a community of people around me who will provide support. When I go to London, one of my patrons always provides accommodation, and I’ve got access to a piano there; the same in Manchester. People are there to catch me.
It’s this most amazing alternative economy. I’ve got this practical, emotional, and creative support. I feel so blessed, so wealthy, in a way that doesn’t involve actual pounds exchanging hands. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’d love to see a bit more of it in the world. -laughs- I love Race Across the World, and the way that people are so welcoming to the travellers when they spend a night. It’s inspiring. We could all benefit by not always seeking to make a profit.
Obviously, there are practical considerations [which require money] — organisations have overheads, orchestras have people to pay, artists ultimately need to afford their rent and buy food. But there’s a lot of joy in helping one another, and we’ve lost that a little. The fact that people are so willing to help me has been the most amazing thing. I’m very grateful. I’d have had to give up a while ago otherwise.
That reminds me of something you once said to me, that “it takes a village to support an artist”…
It takes a village in so many ways. Firstly, I’ve had to learn for myself what I need — I need headspace and time to be creative. A two or three-hour window doesn’t really work. I can do a bit, but I can’t write very quickly when I’m short of time. The first thing has been trying to identify a space where I can write. At the start, when I found Manchester very busy, I would go out to the Peak District, or go out to Cheshire, and ringfence a weekend [or] a couple days where I knew I could let go a little and allow ideas to come to the surface. That already created a reliance on people who were friends, but lived outside of Manchester, and would be able to give me space — and had a piano. -laughs-
There’s an obvious financial consideration. Artists have bills to pay, they need to be able to travel to concerts, they need to be able to submit applications that are not always free to submit… All the boring admin. Those are life costs. But then it’s my village which yields the performers, the favours: someone providing a rehearsal space, someone doing the printing for me. Someone willing to sit down and give you a bit of advice.
You can’t do this on your own, and I don’t think anyone’s intended to do it on their own. If you’re an artist, you are typically responding to what’s around you, and therefore you need dialogue. You need people to be willing to provide input in different ways — food, career advice, a bit of money — and it’s all of that that enables things to keep moving. Sometimes I feel like I’m directing lots of stray cats, and they’re all my own cats… -laughs- And they’re not always going in the same direction.
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What do you feel this kind of support has allowed you to achieve as an artist?
It’s given me the freedom to imagine, and dream. I can now envisage writing enough works to prepare a CD, which I can share with people. I can talk about being a composer — whereas before, I felt that was just what I did on Thursdays and Fridays. I can step forward with integrity, authenticity, into the works I want to be writing: not necessarily constrained by commission briefs, or competition guidelines. I am discovering my own language, and I am realising how much more there is.
That’s maybe a frustration with the fact that people say “beautiful choral music — that’s what you do, isn’t it?”… No, that’s not all I do! That’s something I do, and I think I do it well; but I’ve got so much more to say to you. I’ve just needed the time and space to work out how to shape that, how to articulate that. I want to write chamber music, I want to write for orchestra, I want to write solo pieces, I want to write for this amazing cello duo in Manchester who play all these open mics! There’s so much in me, but I’ve had to only allow a tiny bit out at a time. And suddenly now, I’ve got this open expanse — I’m picking up momentum.
I suppose creative freedom is a huge result of this village around me. Conviction in my own work. Believing what I have to say is worth hearing… Maybe I’ve always thought that. -laughs- And finding new ways to say it, rather than allowing people to direct me. I am directing myself, and that is huge. It’s taken me a long time to get there, and I wasn’t ready when I left education. It’s taken ten years to really be sure — and even then, I’m still learning. I think I always am.
I guess the phrase is “it’s a marathon, not a sprint”.
Yeah. Burnout’s a big thing I’ve had to deal with over the last three or four years. That’s actually why this village around me is so key; it’s protecting me, for the first time in forever. Amelia Clarkson wrote that brilliant article… -laughs- You know, that is exactly it! She gets it. I spoke to a friend a few weeks ago and I [said] “I know this is where I’m meant to be, because otherwise I’d have given it up by now.” Because at times it’s exhausting — and what financial stability do I have?
Oh, for sure. -laughs- Oftentimes it feels like doing this — composition — is an inherently illogical thing to do with our lives. That is, until you realise how much it means to us…
And gratifyingly, how much it means to other people. It doesn’t cease to amaze me how much people are willing to support and invest in me. I don’t think there are words. That connection, that sharing… I’d like to encourage it as much as possible. The cultural and social value of embedding connection — there aren’t words. When I’m Prime Minister… -laughs- We’ll have daily singing assemblies. No more news. And I’ll turn the internet off at weekends…
-we both break down laughing for a few seconds-
In terms of what’s next for you: you’re currently preparing for a premiere at Music@Malling in Kent. Can you tell me a bit about the piece you’ve written for them?
It’s a partnership between Music@Malling and Yotes Court Vineyard, in Kent. They’ve got a wine tasting evening, and they will be pairing each wine with a bit of Bach, and a bit of Beckwith. -laughs-
It’s for solo violin. There are really nice parameters on it that help me creatively. New Music Scotland have been running these brilliant workshops for strings, and [I’ve] been down to Manchester Central Library to have a look at various scores. I’m free to respond to the wines, and the Bach, or not — as much as is appropriate. They’ve sent through tasting notes. It’s a nice first project with Thomas Kemp, and a nice opportunity to reach people who are not typically your “classical music audience”. And maybe three glasses in, they won’t be fussed anyway. -laughs-
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Alice’s new commission for Music@Malling and Yotes Court Vineyard takes place in West Malling, Kent, on Friday 19th June – more information and tickets:
Alice’s ‘Five Armitage Songs’ also receives its third performance on Saturday 27th June at Einstein Kultur, Munich – learn more:
Learn more about Alice and her practice:
- https://alicebeckwith.co.uk/
- https://soundcloud.com/alice-beckwith/
- https://www.instagram.com/alicebeckwith.composer/
- https://musicpatron.com/composer/alice-beckwith/
References/Links:
- Angela Carter, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories (Random House, 1979)
- Franz Schubert – Erlkönig, Op. 1, D 328 (1815), presented by Oxford Song
- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (NIV), Bible Gateway
- The Queen’s Christmas Broadcast 1981, The Royal Family
- Psalm 100 (NIV), Bible Gateway
- John 12 (NIV), Bible Gateway
- Ephesians 1 (NIV), Bible Gateway
- RAYE – ‘Joy’, live on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert (2026)
- Race Across the World, BBC (2019-)
- Amelia Clarkson, ‘A Thousand Tiny Decisions’ (2025), PRXLUDES
