'I believe in bugs," sang the late Ivor Cutler on his Dandruff album. "I truly believe in bugs." And, as he predicted, the bugs truly believed in him: "Lying in the silken ground one day/ I shall sense the buggies wriggle as they eat me away."
It would nice to think that one of those bugs will appear this weekend in London, perhaps in a tiny pair of plus-fours in honour of Ivor – because from today the Southbank Centre is hosting Pestival, a three-day event "celebrating insects as art, and the art of being an insect".
After all manner of activities – including talks, a BeeCab, a huge replica termite mound, a machine that will tell you if a mosquito fancies you, the insect-related songs of Robyn Hitchcock and friends, and what can only be described as "Noboru Tsubaki's unique Vegetable Wasp homage to Michael Jackson" – the festival closes with a gig curated by wildlife sound recordist Chris Watson. But unlike much of his work, acclaimed for its stunning revelation of the natural world, this live show sees Watson turn to something he often keeps his microphones well away from: humans.
"It is about humans and insects interacting – hence the title, Cross Pollination," says Watson. "The inspiration for me came from Japan, and their culture of listening to insects in the way we in the west might enjoy birdsong. There's a tradition there that goes back to the 15th century – and much earlier in China."
Evidence for crickets being kept for song is said to go back in China as far as the Tang dynasty, around 750 AD. "Amazingly, in Kyoto and elsewhere, they had these tiny cages made for the crickets," says Watson. "They hung them up in the palace, and at the right temperature they would sing. But also people would carry them around, like a 15th-century iPod. Live music on the move! There's still a whole culture surrounding it."
The Japanese bell cricket (suzumushi) is perhaps the most famous – one that some Kyoto monks used to claim had the voice of Buddha. Not bad for a critter with no ears that sings by rubbing its legs together. Watson has used a Japanese recording of the bell cricket in his surround-sound piece: Norwegian singer and composer Maria Jardardottir will be duetting with it on the night.
The human voice also provides the cross-pollination for another of the three pieces for the evening, which Watson decided should feature honey bees. "The theme of the evening is really for people to become immersed in the sounds and rhythms of the insects, so this will start with the very traditional sounds of the English garden, but end up right inside the hive at night."
For the choir parts, Watson commissioned composer Marcus Davidson. First, Davidson spent time listening intensely to Watson's bee recordings – and got a shock: "The bees are full of music. They 'sing' diatonic notes. It's astonishing. In the daytime they are all at A below middle C. Then, in the evening, the general pitch slips down to G sharp." But around those central pitches, says Davidson, the bees are also tuneful: "For each mood they have a different set of what I call tune clusters – different songs and little chords."
Bees have also been shown to indicate awareness of toxins and other hazards by subtle changes in pitch. Mike Harding, co-founder of Touch (who release Watson's CDs), was commissioned to make the hive recordings for the piece. While Harding was manfully dealing with repeated stings in the service of art, Davidson noticed something. "About 10 seconds before Mike got stung, they'd all be singing different notes, but then it's as if they've taken a decision: 'Right, we've been invaded enough.' And then they go back to a unison A. You hear a distinct change."
For the human singing parts, Davidson has avoided any "buzzing" cliches, finding mouth shapes that create a natural sound. They branch out, eventually, into more "human" musical territory, but all the shapes, he says, have come from the bees.
For the third piece of the evening, Watson always knew he wanted Philip Jeck. Jeck works with vinyl, employing the warm sound of 1950s record players, and – through the use of echoes, speed changes and filters – manages an often supernatural musical alchemy. But where will the insects be?
"I'm going to be doing one of my vinyl mixes," says Jeck, "but only with records that have been in some way influenced by insects. The first one that jumped into my head was Rimsky-Korsakov's Flight of the Bumblebee – in fact, I found six different versions of it at home, from easy listening to straight-up classical, and one or two pretty wacky versions, played on harpsichord or whatever. Stuff I didn't know I had.
"I've got beyond the cliche of the piece now – at first I thought, I can't possibly use that, it's so recognisable. But I've found my way into it. People may not even recognise it on the night."
Jeck has also unearthed some insect-related music by US composer Deems Taylor – part of a 1916 piece called The Looking Glass – and will be using some of Watson's own recordings, such as one of a death watch beetle. "I often use very tiny fragments, some detail that excites me or causes an emotional reaction, then try to develop that." The overall effect, says Watson, has a similarity to the rich tones and textures of insect sounds.
"Chris Watson," says Pestival director Bridget Nicholls, "is like the John Peel of the natural world." Which brings us back to Peel favourite Ivor Cutler. "I wanted Ivor to come to the last Pestival [in 2006], but he died just before it. That's really out of order!" Nicholls's background as a naturalist, broadcaster and comedy writer threads its way through the Pestival programme, which ranges from scientific talks to standup comedy.
"There's a book by EO Wilson called Consilience, and it's about blurring the boundaries between disciplines, and also the natural world," she says. "That's the serious message behind Pestival. We build these houses around us, which disconnect us from the animal world – but we're still part of it. We forget how the weather and seasons affect us. Listening to the circadian rhythms of insects reminds you to respect – in a scientific rather than a hippy way – the cycles of nature.
"These things are hidden, perhaps because insects have no ego. No PR. That's it: I'm the PR for insects!"
