Lior discusses collaboration with classical composer Nigel Westlake

From the warm intimacy of indie-folk venues to the grand acoustics of concert halls, Lior has never been one to stay in a fixed musical lane. After building a reputation through deeply personal, guitar-driven performances, a sense of creative curiosity sparked an evolution that would see Lior collaborating with celebrated classical composer Nigel Westlake, resulting in the powerful orchestral work Compassion. Blending ancient texts with haunting vocal melodies and sweeping orchestration, the piece explores timeless themes of empathy and human connection.

In this candid conversation, Lior reflects on the journey from small-stage storytelling to genre-defying collaborations that have pushed the boundaries of their artistry. He shares insights into the unexpected creative harmony with Westlake, the emotional complexity of co-writing COMPASSION, and how stepping into formal concert settings reshaped their musical identity. Beyond the music, he speaks to the enduring urgency of compassion in today’s divided world and offer heartfelt advice to emerging artists navigating an increasingly fragmented industry. Through it all, the thread remains clear: a commitment to authenticity, connection, and the transformative power of art across genres and generations.

1. You built your reputation through intimate, indie-folk performances. What inspired you to start collaborating with classical ensembles, and how has performing in concert halls changed your relationship with your own music?

Collaborations started for me as simply as a form of curiosity. I remember after writing and recording three solo albums across a decade, I felt a strong urge to expand my musical exploration and follow my curiosity.

That led me to seek out people who inspired me. Meeting Nigel Westlake was one of those moments, it was a long time coming. I had admired his work for years, and when the opportunity finally came to connect, our shared interests quickly sparked the idea of collaborating. We each brought our own strengths to the table, and what emerged was something greater than the sum of its parts. Performing in concert halls has been a shift, too. Before COMPASSION, I’d never sung without a guitar or stood in front of an orchestra, it was terrifying in the beginning. And it took some time to feel comfortable and feel like I deserved to be in that space.

It’s hard to isolate exactly how that’s changed my relationship with music, because as artists, all our experiences bleed into one another. At the end of the day, it’s made me a better musician and a better listener. Performing in a concert hall is a very different experience from playing smaller, intimate gigs. I love the lounge-room feel of those shows – the freedom to go off-script and really connect with the audience. In a concert hall, the structure is set. The performance is defined. And in that space, my focus shifts to delivering the strongest, most refined expression of the work itself.

2. You have often defied genre labels. Do you see classical and indie as distinct musical worlds, or are they simply different dialects of the same language?

I would have once upon a time said they were different worlds. But I think this collaboration with Nigel has shown me that imaginations are the limits. As for labels like “indie,” I’ve never really seen myself as belonging to one genre. If indie means independent spirit, then sure – that fits!

But I’ve moved through folk, rock, and everything in between. Early on, when I was shopping around my demos, labels often told me, “This is great, but we don’t know what to do with it.”. I couldn’t be easily categorised, and while that felt like a weakness at the time, it became a strength when Autumn Flow came out. Audiences really responded to its variety.

3. What drew you to collaborate with Nigel Westlake, and how would you describe the creative synergy between the two of you?

Nigel and I came together under very profound circumstances, which I won’t go into here, they’re well documented, and we were brought together by great tragedy. But that meeting shaped the project from the outset. We were both in a place where we wanted to dive into something meaningful.

From the beginning, there was mutual respect, patience, and a shared humanist outlook. Neither of us brought ego into the collaboration, we just wanted to create the best artistic work that would really resonate with people. So it was an absolutely seamless working relationship.

In the sense of musical synergy, we both respected each other’s domains: I focused on lyrics and melody, Nigel focused on orchestral composition. Of course, we remained open to each other’s input, but staying in our creative lanes helped us produce something we both felt proud of.

4. COMPASSION is such a nuanced, emotionally complex work. What was the most surprising thing about co-writing it with Nigel, and how did you navigate the balance between composition and lyricism?

Fortunately for me Nigel really wanted to bounce off my musical ideas, so he really let me a lot of creative freedom early on. I was responsible for researching and gathering the texts and writing the vocal melodies. He actually asked me not to include any harmonic suggestions, just to send him raw vocal ideas. He described them as these haunting vocal fragments, like he was getting a recording of someone singing the Dead Sea Scrolls!

From there, Nigel would send back these rich orchestral arrangements around my melodies. Some movements took 16 revisions back and forth, but it was an incredible process starting from something raw and personal and seeing it transformed into something so layered and expansive.

5. More than a decade on from its premiere, COMPASSION feels just as, if not more, urgent today. What does the piece mean to you now, in this current global moment?

COMPASSION was never meant to be political, it’s a philosophical work. And because of that, it remains relevant. In any period of history there are always going to be horrible things happening, and as human beings we need constant reminders to of the primary importance of COMPASSION.

I still have complete faith and belief in the message of this work. It was relevant when we premiered it on the eve of the Australian election and it’s still relevant today. I can’t see my faith and belief in the work waning.

6. The texts in COMPASSION span Judaism and Islam, touching on shared values of empathy and humanity. How do you hope audiences respond to those themes in today’s divisive climate?

I think one thing that we’ve seen in Australian society is that, at times and in moments, public discourse has spiralled out of control and people have forgotten to actually be compassionate and kind to each other. And that’s something that we very much have control over. This piece is a reminder to practise compassion right here, in our own communities, where we do have control. Art like this can remind us of our shared humanity, even when the world feels fractured.

One of the things Nigel and I were thrilled about was the extent of the emotional resonance this piece had on audiences, even for those who didn’t understand the languages being sung. That is a testament to the power of music and art to awaken an empathy and a humanity in all of us.

7. You’ve mentored many emerging artists across genres. What do you believe younger musicians need most right now, not just technically, but emotionally or creatively?

Honestly, I’m glad I started my career when I did, it felt simpler then. Today’s artists have so much more to navigate, especially with the rise of social media and how much it dominates how musicians connect with their audiences.

When I mentor, I don’t tend to give technical advice about any social media centred way of interacting with your audiences and promoting yourself – it just wasn’t around when I started my career. Instead, I try to come from a philosophical level, and encourage younger artists to really enjoy your art, and be focussed as much as you can on your art and to let that do the talking because it’s just so easy to be swallowed up by other factors. There’s so much distraction now, and that distraction can dilute the depth of your creativity. To make meaningful work, you have to be deeply focused and immersed in it.

8. Why do you think it is important for emerging artists to engage with genre-crossing projects? What has genre fluidity taught you that you pass on to mentees?

On an artistic level, it’s about not feeling like you’re hemmed in. See yourself as a creative being, not just someone who outputs arts in a particular way or style. I think it’s really important to follow your curiosity because that’s where your inspiration comes from.

On a practical level, genre-crossing has helped me build a sustainable career. With income streams disappearing and the music industry becoming more volatile, being able to move between worlds, classical, theatre, songwriting, has been invaluable. It keeps things interesting artistically and helps build a viable long-term path.

9. Do you see your role as an artist evolving in response to social issues? Is there a pressure, or a privilege, in being able to use your platform to spark dialogue?

What’s always moved me in songwriting is the exploration of the human condition and relationships. The artists who explored those common humanity aspects inspired me as a kid, and that’s still what I devote my working life to. That’s the thread running through most of my work, and it’s where I feel I can contribute most meaningfully.

10. Beyond this collaboration, are there new sonic landscapes or artistic partnerships you are hoping to explore in the future?

Always! I’m always curious and open to new work. Nigel and I actually created a follow-up work called GNAPA WILLIAM COOPER, which tells the story of Indigenous activist and leader William Cooper. That’s been a really successful and rewarding project.

I’m also working with a Melbourne composer named A. Vincent on a new piece that explores creativity in the age of AI. It combines electric guitar, strings, and electronics, and looks at AI as a threat to creativity, and the idea of valuing the creative process, not just the output.

The real difficulty for me is limiting my collaborations. There are so many inspiring artists out there, and I also want to keep writing and releasing solo work. It’s about finding balance.

---

COMPASSION

Brisbane Tickets CLICK HERE