The pioneering, otherworldly sounds of Delia… | Little White Lies

Film Music

The pio­neer­ing, oth­er­world­ly sounds of Delia Derbyshire

21 Oct 2018

Words by Caitlin Quinlan

Two people operating complex audio equipment in a recording studio.
Two people operating complex audio equipment in a recording studio.
A new film cel­e­brates the uncred­it­ed female cre­ator of the icon­ic Doc­tor Who theme tune.

The sculp­tress of sound”, woman behind the wob­bu­la­tor”, and the hero­ine of British elec­tron­ic music”, may all sound like impres­sive epi­thets for the late elec­tron­ic musi­cian Delia Der­byshire, but she is far from being a house­hold name. A new film, Delia Der­byshire: The Myths and Leg­endary Tapes, which screened at this year’s BFI Lon­don Film Fes­ti­val, seeks to rec­ti­fy this by telling the sto­ry of a pas­sion­ate and pio­neer­ing com­pos­er whose work for the BBC and lat­er arrange­ment of the icon­ic Doc­tor Who theme tune went uncred­it­ed on the show for 50 years.

Car­o­line Catz directs and stars in the 13-minute short, blend­ing inter­view sound bites with per­for­mance art to shape Derbyshire’s intrigu­ing per­sona. Faced with the pre­vail­ing sex­ism of the decades, Der­byshire ini­tial­ly strug­gled to find a means of express­ing her tal­ents, offered sec­re­tar­i­al roles instead of any work she hoped to do with sound and acoustics. In 1962, she found a role at the BBC Radio­phon­ic Work­shop, the home of sound effects and exper­i­men­tal music for radio and tele­vi­sion. A year lat­er, she was assigned to realise a score com­posed by musi­cian Ron Grain­er, turn­ing it into the swoop­ing, ring­ing sound­scape for extrater­res­tri­al jour­neys through time and space.

Der­byshire musi­cal vision and imag­i­na­tion, how­ev­er, always remained firm­ly on Earth. She believed in musique con­crète, a term coined by a French com­pos­er in the 1940s to describe the sounds made by found, tan­gi­ble objects, with­out a syn­the­sis­er in sight. The inter­est in cre­ation of abstract music from phys­i­cal sources, that over­lap­ping of the ethe­re­al and the mate­r­i­al, was per­haps born from Derbyshire’s child­hood fas­ci­na­tion with World War Two-era air raid sirens. That was elec­tron­ic music,” she says in Catz’s film, music for the gravest of circumstances.

The Myths and Leg­endary Tapes explores Derbyshire’s var­ied inter­ests and musi­cal tech­niques, depict­ing the com­pos­er sip­ping red wine from a tiny milk bot­tle, in a room filled with taxi­dermy which she encour­ages to growl and whis­tle for her work. Her beloved green met­al lamp shade makes a spe­cial appear­ance, doc­u­ment­ed as the source of one of her favourite nat­ur­al sounds with a rich, melo­di­ous chime when struck. These idio­syn­crasies, all per­formed with a live­ly sense of mis­chief by Catz, build up a mem­o­rable por­trait of a woman with a unique way of lis­ten­ing to the world around her to find melody in the mundane.

Der­byshire has a fas­ci­nat­ing his­to­ry that extends far beyond a cel­e­brat­ed theme tune and the pity of her posthu­mous recog­ni­tion for it. A female Doc­tor Who, with Jodie Whit­tak­er now inhab­it­ing the char­ac­ter, by no means marks the end of sex­ism in any realm, and this is per­haps espe­cial­ly true of the music indus­try. Male com­posers, musi­cians and DJs may con­tin­ue to occu­py the top of the hier­ar­chy, but reflect­ing on the work of a female pio­neer such as Der­byshire reveals just how deep her influ­ence reach­es and who it could inspire next.

Efforts con­tin­ue to high­light Derbyshire’s achieve­ments and tech­ni­cal skill. A group of Man­ches­ter-based devo­tees cre­at­ed Delia Der­byshire Day’ in 2012 with the char­i­ta­ble aims to pro­mote elec­tron­ic music and edu­cate oth­ers on its his­to­ry with the help of her archives. A Deli­a­phon­i­ca’ game can be found on their web­site, an online sound­board of her per­son­alised musique con­crète nois­es, and ambi­ent loops and sam­ples for users to cre­ate their own compositions.

Der­byshire final­ly received an offi­cial cred­it on Doc­tor Who in 2013, 12 years after her death from kid­ney fail­ure aged 64. Frag­ments of her music can be found across the inter­net, arrange­ments which are now con­sid­ered to be some of the ear­li­est explo­rations into the tech­no genre. Derbyshire’s tal­ent and abil­i­ty to cre­ate sounds of the future from the far dis­tant past” shines through in Catz’s film, mark­ing her out as an artist ahead of her time who is only now get­ting the wider cred­it she deserves.

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