My name’s Soweto Kinch. I’m a jazz musician and an MC, and we’re here at the Tate Britain for the Triennial. I’ve created a ‘sonic trail’ which will help viewers and listeners navigate both old and new works in a way that I hope is original, novel and exciting. I chose out of a shortlist of about twelve. I honed it down to six works, four historical pieces and two new works. They all seemed, either thematically, or in terms of the composition, to give me a lot to work with, a lot to scrutinize. Right now we’re going to look at just three out of the six works that I’ve chosen as a gateway into the things that I was thinking about in creating the whole piece. This is The Great Day of His Wrath by John Martin, and it completely leapt up out at me, and it was so arresting because of the colours and composition and form. It was both because of the musicality in the piece, and thematically what it gave me to work with. We imagined it in a very modern context, and with the setting of a banking crisis, of all sorts of financial people losing their positions, and the world being turned upside down. Exposed. I’m just another ex-CEO exposed. Let me explain. The ex came – exclaimed I’d best pay debts next day, added extra expenses, necklace chains of extraneous rents claimed. Life on the ex train was just dodging egg stains. Exhale. Yesterday, dodged the FSA. Just then, the text came. Eric, you’ll being exited. John Law will see you at nine thirty. Be there with representatives. This is Lines of Control. It’s a huge, ten metre high by ten metre wide atomic cloud made with chrome pots and pans. I worked with 17 A level students through a number of weeks and through a number of workshops to develop responses to this work, and Lines of Control, even before it was up, made us think a lot about rebirth as well as destruction. [String music] Bricks and steel, pots and spoons, blow up in colossal plumes… the silence after shattering din, scattering rustling tins. This is a piece by Whistler called Nocturne, and what fascinated me about it was the musicality in the piece. It just evoked all kinds of even Debussy-like, but certainly jazz ballads that I’d heard before, very melancholic ones. There must be a thousand or more tiny scraps of paper and a thousandfold more dreams and memories tied on them. Tiny lights in the distance. [Music] Those distant lights where people dwell for heat and ale, DVD merchants needing sales, that Sunday roast and treacle smell. Want that promotion! The most amazing thing about this sonic trail, despite all of our hard work, and efforts to make it not free, it’s free! Wow! No, I’m actually really glad about that – the fact that it’s accessible, and that as many people as possible will get to hear it and debate some of the themes it brings up. You can get it right here at the Rotunda. I think the pickup points are right here, and you’ll pick up a very trendy iPod with a fluorescent little cord on it, and headphones, so it’s all here and it’s all available.