The Return of 840: A Conversation with Alex Nikiporenko
In the early 2010s, the coolest thing a music graduate with an interest in all things experimental could do was to set up a small, independent concert series. Truth be told, I never really witnessed much of London’s vibrant and pluralistic scene: Music We’d Like to Hear (2005), Kammerklang (2008), Filthy Lucre (originally from Cambridge, 2011), Listenpony (2012) and Weisslich (2014) only became known to me once they were over or inactive—save for MWLTH, which is still going strong. Others, like the performance collective Bastard Assignments, though technically not a series, also felt part of this current. My own performance art group, New Maker Ensemble, similarly blurred the line between being a collective and running a concert series.
As a Goldsmiths graduate and a south-of-the-river musician, all these series felt very North-London. Yet there was one point of contact. It was on a typically gloomy evening in October 2015 that I first came across 840 and its co-founder, Alex Nikiporenko, in the cold, lofty church of St James’, Islington. The series’ name and visual language, cool and detached, radiated a certain mystique. What did those numbers mean? In fact, they were simply a nod to Erik Satie’s Vexations, whose inscription reads that ‘in order to play the motif 840 times in succession, it would be advisable to prepare oneself beforehand, and in the deepest silence, by serious immobilities.’
Over the next five years, 840 presented 22 events, typically centred on a single ensemble and characterised by a distinctive minimal-experimental aesthetic. Its final concert took place before the pandemic on 31 January 2020—the day the UK officially left the European Union. Both Brexit and the coronavirus upended the UK’s cultural ecosystem. 840 returned unexpectedly in September 2025. Its second post-pandemic concert, in collaboration with the New London Chamber Choir, is scheduled for 21 March 2026 at Stone Nest.
On the last Saturday of February, Alex and I went for a lengthy walk along the Thames around Rotherhithe to trace 840’s history, talk about the role of concert series in the 2010s and revisit that poignant pre-pandemic evening. He also shared his curatorial vision for the upcoming concert and recalled what £10 could do to promote a concert ten years ago, compared with today’s social media landscape.
Marat Ingeldeev: Alex, I don’t think you’ve ever told the story of 840. Let’s mentally transport ourselves from the middle of the gloomy 2020s back to the more optimistic mid-2010s. What prompted you to start the concert series in 2015? And who were the people involved before it came to a halt in 2020 during the pandemic?
Alex Nikiporenko: The idea of a concert series was born in the summer of 2014—I had just graduated from the RCM and was attending the Cheltenham Composer Academy. I was concerned that outside a music college with its plentiful performance opportunities, the only way for me to get my music performed was to continuously apply for various competitions and calls for scores, and deal with inevitable rejections. Instead, I decided to take matters into my own hands by starting a concert series, which I see as akin to a group exhibition, with like-minded artists presenting their new works. In Cheltenham, I met Nicholas Peters—I loved his music. We started talking and decided to join forces to run 840. Our debut took place on 31 January 2015 in St James’ Islington, a church with a grand piano on a quiet street that became somewhat of a home to the series, with more than half the events taking place there.
Nick and I curated 11 concerts together, but after a while, given that Nick is based in Wiltshire, it became a bit of a challenge logistically. James Luff took his place—both me and him studied privately with Laurence Crane (if I remember correctly, we were his only private students—I am sure Laurence will know), and previously James wrote a piece for an 840 programme. He and I curated another 11 concerts (what a coincidence!), culminating in a five-year anniversary edition at Cafe OTO on 31 January 2020, exactly five years after the first event. We were actually planning several other concerts in 2020, but then the pandemic happened, which changed my life and, I think, the scene too.
MI: When you and Nick launched 840, London already had several independent series: Weisslich, Kammerklang, Filthy Lucre, Music We’d Like to Hear, Listenpony and others. How did you see 840 fitting in? Did you see yourselves as working within an existing model or consciously departing from one?
AN: Of the series you mentioned, we feel the closest to Music We’d Like to Hear; they are basically our spiritual ancestors *laughs*. That initial ‘group exhibition’ approach informed many things about 840: each concert would feature a single ensemble—this unifies the programme and makes it easier logistically, while also allowing for potential repeat performances elsewhere. Coming back to the initial desire to have a platform for my own works, collaborating with a different ensemble each time allows for some variation too.
I think 840 is what it is because of what was logistically possible without guaranteed funding and because of our aesthetic interests. Weisslich and Bastard Assignments represent the performance art wing of the scene. We have ventured there occasionally (e.g. our Violin and Objects programme), but the minimal-experimental aesthetic is our home.
MI: Perhaps a broader question: how would you explain the popularity of these independent/DIY concert series in London in the 2010s? There are still a few less institutionalised ones, like the Eternal series and SAOM, but they seem rarer than they once were. Why do you think that is, beyond the obvious cost-of-living crisis and the eye-watering cumulative inflation of 39% since 2015?
AN: I suspect the cost of living and hiring venues has something to do with your observation that there are fewer DIY series now than back in 2015. I remember that we spent £100 on venue hire for our first concert. To be honest, that was unusually cheap even then, but it is completely unimaginable now. It also becomes harder to keep a series running after a few years. People assume that one with a few years’ experience is an institution and expect to be paid accordingly. When you are fresh out of a music college, you still have many equally young friends who are willing to try things out without much compensation, but this becomes harder later—in a sense you become a victim of your own success.
Not really sure why DIY series were particularly popular in 2015. Maybe a few people started doing them and then it basically snowballed? Many of my peers at the RCM were involved in running concert series: Josephine Stephenson with Listenpony, Louis d’Heudieres with Weisslich. So there was definitely an element of, if they can, why can’t I.
MI: Coming back to 840’s last concert before the pandemic, I’ve heard that it had a certain poignancy. It took place on 31 January 2020, the day the UK officially left the European Union. What do you remember about that evening?
AN: I’m really proud of that programme. It was a particular honour to commission two really great pieces: Laurence Crane’s European Towns and John Lely’s Stopping at the Sheer Edge Will Never Abolish Space, both performed by Juliet Fraser and three cellos (Colin Alexander, Stephanie Tress and Peteris Sokolovskis). I hope James Creed won’t mind me quoting him that these were two of his favourite pieces of the 21st century. The rest of the evening was also special: we selected pieces that had been premiered in previous 840 concerts from wonderful composers such as Georgia Rodgers, Marc Sabat and Sergei Zagny.
The programme somewhat prophetically felt like closure at the time, even though we obviously had no idea it would be the case—at the end of the evening we announced two upcoming concerts. It was indeed the day the UK left the EU. Laurence’s piece was about that: the audience was singing along with Juliet and many people were crying. In less than two months we were in the first lockdown, and in a year’s time I was studying for a computer science master’s.
MI: Nevertheless, 840 was only resurrected in September 2025, five and a half years after the last concert. What made you decide the time was right to bring it back? And in what ways, if any, has it changed?
AN: First, I really love London’s experimental music scene—going to series like MWLTH (and the pub afterwards) is genuinely something I look forward to. I wanted to be a ‘practitioner’ again. I do see myself as a composer, and to maintain that title I actually have to compose—and to compose I need a concert to write for. I also feel quite settled at work and have enough mental bandwidth to return to music, so it felt like the right time to resurrect the series. This time the series is co-curated by composer Christian Drew, my good friend, whose music we programmed back in 2019.
I think in some sense the series hasn’t really changed: we still have the same format and the same aesthetic. So many things in our lives are changing that it actually feels quite nice to return to something tried and tested that still brings you joy. Of course, every concert we organise features a different ensemble, and our upcoming one will also take place in a new venue, so there are some changes, but they feel natural rather than change for change’s sake.
MI: Speaking of which, on 21 March 2026 you will present a new concert in collaboration with the New London Chamber Choir. What can audiences expect?
AN: This is the first time we are working with such a large ensemble—we are expecting 23 singers. The programme will be varied: there will be some Feldman, as it’s his centenary; very different takes on ‘playful’ from Andrew Hamilton and Andy Ingamells; and, for the first time, the series will feature our namesake Erik Satie, albeit arranged for choir by Louise Drewett. As is customary for the series, there will be premieres too: from Lara Agar, Francesca Fargion, Howard Skempton and myself. I think the concert will strike a good balance between meditative and energetic, so the audience won’t get bored. The venue is great in all aspects—acoustics, aesthetics and location—and there is a bar immediately below it. I think it will be an engaging, memorable evening.
MI: Did you consciously try to strike that balance, or did it emerge organically? I usually associate 840 with meditative, focused music, so it’s exciting to see more energetic elements in the programme.
AN: ‘Meditative, focused music’ is definitely our sound, and even the quote from which our name comes alludes to ‘deepest silence … serious immobilities.’ [Erik Satie, Vexations] I think a clear aesthetic is important, and it’s good that people associate our series with a sound. You will never please everyone, but it’s important that your audience comes to your concerts with a certain expectation. At the same time, I’ve been to too many boring concerts, and I don’t want to curate another one. So the goal is: maintain a coherent aesthetic, but break things up sometimes. I want to curate a concert I’d enjoy going to.
MI: This is the first time 840 is working with such a large ensemble. How did collaborating with the New London Chamber Choir shape the preparation? Were there particular logistical or economic challenges in working with so many performers?
AN: Because NLCC is an established ensemble, in some sense it’s actually easier: they already have an administration; they are used to organising their own rehearsals. We worked with a single point of contact, Louise Drewett—a great friend. We discussed early on what would be necessary to make the concert happen, and were very kindly offered funding by the Hinrichsen Foundation. It’s much more challenging logistically to work with individual musicians as an ad hoc ensemble: you have to sort out all the rehearsals, work out everyone’s availability, etc.
MI: You mentioned that the pandemic changed the scene. Now that you’re organising 840’s second concert after the hiatus, have you noticed any differences in how audiences respond? Are they more receptive to new experiences, and has social media become even more important for promoting events?
AN: The social media landscape definitely became more challenging. In our first iteration, our main platform was Facebook, followed by Instagram and Twitter. Now we no longer have Twitter—it’s become a total cesspit. Bluesky never really replaced it, and Facebook is half-dead—there is no engagement unless you pay—which leaves Instagram as the only viable option. Coming back to your question about the popularity of DIY series in 2015, maybe social media had something to do with it. I remember spending a tenner on Facebook ads back then—you could really fine-tune your target audience: I would select all people who were based in London and liked London Sinfonietta and John Cage. This was banned after the Cambridge Analytica scandal! Maybe we are coming back to the mailing-list days, which seems strange to me. I’d much rather consume content on social media than have another email in my inbox.
840’s upcoming concert takes place on 21 March 2026 at Stone Nest, London. For more information, visit https://eightforty.co.uk/events/210326/