Sunday, November 05, 2006
I started writing music when I was 17 - right at the tail end of high school. I was playing in a little garage band with my friend Scott, and our drummer friend Mike. After we exhausted all the Black Sabbath, Megadeth and Metallica we could play, we just started to kind of mess around - jamming as rock bands do. That lead to me writing the first few songs - the very first one was completely instrumental since none of us thought we could sing. But, shortly after, I began to write songs and lyrics and began to sing those songs. This time was just about the joy of playing and making music, and discovering something for the first time. It was about playing music with my two best friends and having fun.
After I decided to go to music school, my motivations changed drastically. It became a quest to prove myself - not just to myself, but to basically everyone else that I could actually write the kind of music I was going to study, and that I had the talent to back it up. NO ONE knew - I myself wasn't even sure. The burning desire to prove yourself can be a powerful motivator and it drove me to take in and learn and experience as much as I possibly could, and to grow musically as much as I possibly could.
By the time I graduated from my undergraduate school, I felt like I was well on my way to proving that I could actually do what I set out to. People were convinced I had talent, and I was convinced that I had proven myself to whoever doubted me - including me. It was just around this time that the third motivational force came into my life, and her name was Mandy Morris.
I was at the very end of my senior year at the University of Texas - I had less than 2 months to go, and I was outta there - I already knew I was going to Indiana for graduate school. I hardly expected to meet someone right at this time - it was actually horrible timing - but I guess things happen usually when you least expect it. One of the choirs at UT was performing a piece of mine, and the conductor invited me to a rehearsal to hear the progress, etc. I had written a solo for soprano in the piece, and when it came time to rehearse that part, she asked the sopranos who would be interested in singing the solo that day (I guess she had been letting different singers do it on different days). A girl raised her hand - "I'll do it!". Wow - it was THAT girl - the one I always see walking around campus with the backpack twice her size, eyes always facing forward focused on some unknown intent. That girl that I waited for every day to walk past the door of my counterpoint class - the one with the unique and very cool style.
When she started to sing - the sound that came out of her mouth - I was floored - I couldn't believe it. I didn't know my music could sound like that - what a voice - I was completely blown away. I was looking for a singer to sing in another piece of mine that I was doing on my senior recital - gave me just the right excuse to go talk to her. I won't go into the mushy details, but I'll never forget that moment as long as I live.
So, needless to say, we started dating. I was completely fascinated by her. She was not only a world class singer, but an amazing poet, and an artist as well. She was smart - funny - laid back (sometimes - lol) - beautiful in every way, truly. She became my new motivation. The only thing I wanted to do was make her proud of me, and to prove to her and to myself that I was worthy of her. She probably never cared - I know she loved me - but that never stopped me from trying all the same.
The Motivation Stops
I had never in my life had such powerful motivation before. It drove me to really make some huge leaps in my composition, and to overcome fears and intimidations that I had had for years (like writing for piano). She was the driving force in my life, and I really felt like she understood me like no one else ever had - I she felt like I understood her the same way - and the crazy thing is - I did. However, that all came crashing down on March 5th, 2002.
Mandy had gone to upstate New York to do an audition for a graduate school there. While there, she crossed a busy intersection on her way to eat, and was hit by an oncoming car. She was in a coma for a week, but never pulled out of it.
Needless to say, I was in total shock, and pretty much a vegetable for at least 6 months - I basically couldn't do anything. Not only was my best friend and the person I loved most of all in the world gone, but, speaking from the point of this blog, my motivation to write music was absolutely and completely gone. For years after, I struggled with my lack of motivation, and I wondered if I could ever get it back. The motivation I felt when Mandy was here was so powerful, it's very difficult to accept anything less.
After her death, I continued on with my graduate studies. I finished my Masters degree and decided to go on with my DM. During this time, I was constantly struggling with motivation. Why an I doing this? For what purpose?
The general mentality when studying classical composition in graduate school is, you get high praise for technique and form, but completely ignored (or even shunned) for the emotional appeal or impact of a piece of music. Usually, the score matters more than what the piece sounds like. It is very easy to get caught up in this way of thinking, since you are rewarded for one thing, ignored for another.
My New Motivation
The closer I've come to finishing my studies, the more I'm finding myself railing against many of the academic perspectives on music. A few weeks ago, I had my piano trio "il dolce stile nuovo" performed in San Francisco by a professional group. There were many other pieces on the concert, including one by Michael Torke and also Joan Tower (2 very famous living composers). The audience was filled, not with composers and professors, but with regular people from the Bay Area. Their reaction to my piece was the reaction that I always hoped it would get, and validated that what I'm trying to do with music is the right way for me. I've been asking myself that question, why do I write music, a lot lately. Is it to impress a small group of people with my compositional skill - or is it to move people on an emotional and perhaps even a spiritual level? I know, for me, it's the latter, and I know that Mandy would agree. My motivation now is to write for anyone who wants to listen, and to try to reach them on their own personal emotional and spiritual level. Maybe I'll never succeed, but it's what drives me now. I have a feeling that would make her proud.
Friday, July 14, 2006
The first is The Sweet New Style. This is a general compilation of some of my best work to date.
The second is Guitar Works and the third is Flute Works.
There are links to purchase from my My Space page as well as track listings. Thanks!
-Anthony Joseph Lanman
Friday, April 21, 2006
For those of you who don't know, I am in the final stages of finishing my Doctorate in music at Indiana University. I am finished with my coursework, and my teaching responsibilities, and basically have three last, but major things left to do. One is my jury in renaissance lute performance. The other is my major field oral exam. This is where I have to choose 12 works - 6 pre-1900 and 6 post-1900 (3 pre-1950 and 3 post-1950). On top of that, all the pieces have to be in different genres - so for instance I can't have 2 symphonies. I now am on my own to study everything conceivably imaginable about these pieces, when they were written, and anything possibly tangentially related to them. Then, at my oral exam there will be a panel of three composition professors, as well as my music history minor field advisor, as well as the director of graduate studies. They can each ask me absolutely ANYTHING - I have no idea what the questions will be. Sounds like fun eh? THEN, I have to write my dissertation, which admittedly composer get off quite easy because all we have to do is write a piece - no massive tome of a paper - just a piece. A big piece, but it's something we would do anyway. Then, after all that, I can call myself a "doctor" - whatever.
So back to the question - what's next? That's all I hear from people these days - what's next - what's next?
As I've stated in some recent blogs, becoming a university professor doesn't sound too appealing to me at this time. The problem (well, one of the problems) with teaching in the university is that they all want composers to teach everything BUT composition - theory - aural skills - analysis - computer music - music technology - etc etc. I don't want to teach that shit - sorry - I got into this so I could spend my life doing something I love, not teach form in Stamitz Symphonies to the uninterested - I mean, who gives a shit?
One prospect I have been looking into started at Christmas time while I was home in Texas. I watched a documentary called "Rock School" - I recommend it to anyone that reads this - especially classical musicians that have been trained in conservatories - it's definitely something interesting to see from our experience. Anyway, I thought the documentary was cool and I really enjoyed it, but what I was really taken with was the passion and enthusiasm these kids had for the music they were learning and playing. The founder of the school, Paul Green, has come up with a really great way to teach these kids, and it goes way beyond learning from Joe Guitar in a little room at the local guitar shop. The program is focused on performance within a competitive, but nurturing environment. Paul will break up the students into actual bands of different levels, and have these bands play real shows at real rock venues for real rock fans. The bands range from a beginner Black Sabbath band, all the way up to his "All Stars", which in the documentary were playing an all Frank Zappa show - and they weren't playing easy Zappa - they were playing hard Zappa.
So, the more I thought about it, the more I became interested in finding out more about the school. I contacted Rock School in January about possibly running one of their branch locations. I've been in contact with them off and on since then, and about two weeks ago I got a call from them. They extended an offer to me to run their new school in Boston which is opening in September. At first, I was really excited about the prospect, but ultimately I turned them down. The door is not closed, it's just about a year too soon, and they understood that. Anyway, it's an option - so that's one thing.
The second thing I've been considering is moving to Osaka, Japan. My good friend Mutsuhito Ogino is from there, and he has put me in contact with someone that is an administrator of an English school. So, the idea would be to start out by teaching English to Japanese, and starting some music projects, and see where it goes from there. Really, I'm just looking for a new experience. Hopefully I'll be able to visit there sometime soon.
In the meantime, I'm moving from Bloomington, Indiana, back home to Ft. Worth, Texas to study and practice and write in order to finish my degree, and save money for trips to Japan, and whatever else is next. So, the answer to everyone's question is that I still don't know, but I do know that my life is still full of possibility, and I have no idea where I'll be a year from now.
My goal is still the same as it was in October 1994 when I dropped out of college and started my journey in music - basically to pursue what I love for my life. I was once again reminded today of how precious life is, and how important it is to spend your life doing what you love, as you never know when your life might be taken away. Just this morning, five talented and promising music students were killed in a plane crash at Bloomington airport. I was acquainted with one of the guys on the plane - Robert Samels. I didn't know him all that well, but well enough that when we ran into each other we would say hi and what's up, blah blah. Robert was an extremely talented singer, conductor and composer. I'm sure the other four were equally as talented - and they all lived doing exactly what they loved doing. I couldn't ask for more than that, and that's what I'll keep doing.
Friday, March 10, 2006
A Week-and-a-Half in the Life of …
Friday, February 24th
I made a trip out to
I first attended the dress rehearsal of the piece. I have one recording of the piece already that we did with Kate, and an ad-hoc string orchestra that we put together. We did the concert on 2 rehearsals, and they did quite well considering. However, this orchestra was a true ensemble, with a great conductor that had been rehearsing the piece for a month. The dress rehearsal was so incredible, I had to stop myself from crying several times. Keep in mind that this was the very first piece of music I wrote following Mandy’s death. It absolutely contains every emotion I was feeling at the time, and in that performance I could feel everything again. It was one of those moments that make everything worth it – one of those rare moments when a conductor and musicians truly commit to a piece of music and bring it to a new level. It’s a real shame that the dress rehearsal was not recorded, because the performance was just not as good. I mean, it was fine, but it just didn’t have that magic I heard earlier in the day. But, I have the memory, and the final vindication that the piece works in a way that surpasses even my early expectations – the reason being that there were several very new things in the piece – textures and sounds I had not seen elsewhere, and although in my head I was pretty sure it would work, I wasn’t totally sure. Anyway, those moments during the dress rehearsal were some of the most transcendent of my composition career so far.
I should also mention that I got an email from one of my pianists that would play on my recital. He was supposed to play the Hommages for Piano and had committed to the concert in October, and had had the music since that time. He told me that his girlfriend had a problem with her visa (she’s asian) and that he has to leave the country (why he has to leave too I have no idea) and wasn’t sure he would be back for the concert. That was it – just a short email. So now I’m left with the problem, do I just wait and see if he comes back, or do I start looking for replacements? This is less than a week before the concert…
Saturday, February 25th
This was my last day at the Midwest Composers Symposium. On this day, I was asked to be a panelist on a composer panel discussion. I didn’t really know what to expect, but it pretty much turned out to be pointless, basically because it was a room full of composers with their own strong opinions about music and how they should make their own music – each viewpoint as valid as the next – but people trying to convince other composers that they were “sick and tired of functional harmony – why does everything have to make sense?” or “I think we all should criticize each other” or whatever – it was just composers talking. It would have been actually interesting if the panel and audience had consisted of perhaps some performers, and maybe even some regular music appreciators, perhaps we could have gotten some real perspective on things. I was the only composer on the panel that was not born in the mid-west, raised in the mid-west, although I do go to school in the
Sunday, February 26th
As for the Hommages, I decided not to sit around and wait to see if the original pianist would return in time. I came up with the idea of contacting 5 pianists and asking each of them to learn one piece each – then they would all come out on stage at once and take their turn playing whatever piece was theirs. I had contacted a couple of pianists, and one agreed to play the Hommage a Mandy Morris, while another agreed to do the hommages to Kaku and Zappa. Then, I got an email from the original pianist that said he was back (quick trip to Asia I guess…) but that he had not even looked at the pieces yet. This is three days before the concert – he had the music for 5 months! But, I was calm – I asked him if he could play the first two hommages (to Kurosawa and Kushner) – he said yes. Then he told me to meet him on Tuesday to hear the pieces – fine.
Monday, February 27th
Monday I had some rehearsals, and picked up Mu from the airport straight from his
Tuesday, February 28th
The final day before the recital – I had some dress rehearsals in the concert hall in the afternoon, and then was supposed to meet the original pianist who was doing the first 2 hommages at 4 o’clock to hear them. So, we do the rehearsals in the hall, everything was great – I walk over to the practice room building to meet the pianist – look all around – nowhere in sight. So, I go home and try to call, email – no response. Unbelievable. I was feeling quite sick because, well for one I was going on no sleep, plus other health issues. We had our last rock band rehearsal that night, and the guys actually stopped it because I looked so bad. But, I was meeting one of the other pianists that took the hommages at the last minute to hear how they were coming. He showed up, and played the last two for me, which he had only had for 2 days. They were already incredible. It absolutely amazes me how some pianists can learn pieces so well so fast. So, I start to tell him about the other pianist – the original one that keeps fucking me over. As if excited, he immediately goes to the piano and starts reading through the first two pieces. Keep in mind – this is 9PM the night before the recital. He reads through them, leans back, and says “I’ll do them”. I was in disbelief, but I of course said OK – problem solved – and I knew he was one of the few that could actually pull this off.
Wednesday, March 1st – Recital Day
I woke up feeling pretty good – not 100%, but good. The concert was at 8PM, and I had the concert hall starting at 6 to do last minute dress rehearsals of Hyper Lassus Daydream and Colors in Silence. We all knew for at least a week that the balance for Hyper Lassus Daydream would be totally off. Mainly because IU’s audio department are just not equipped to mic and mix a rock band – and they never intended a rock band to play in Auer Hall, which is designed for classical music, not loud rock music – so, we just decided to do the best we could and go up there and have fun with it. Colors in Silence was coming together nicely – I heard sections of it as they were rehearsing and it was really coming together, which made me optimistic. Eventually, 8PM came, and the concert started. I’ll give a piece-by-piece run down of my impressions (in concert order):
Hommages for Piano
1&2 – Hommage a Kurosawa and Hommage a Tony Kushner – These were the first two pieces that the new pianist, Hakan Toker, had gotten at 9PM the previous night. I just sat in disbelief as he nailed the pieces, technically and musically, and having only had them less than 24 hours – amazing.
3 – Hommage a Mandy Morris – This was one of the big pressure pieces for me. The other pianist that took this on at the last minute, Kaoru Yamamura, had only gotten it 3 days before. I was feeling a lot of pressure with this piece – I wanted it to go perfectly because I felt that it deserved only that. This was probably the piece on the recital that I had the most emotion wrapped up in. I had used a pop song that Mandy had written as the basis of the piece – it’s truly her and I wrapped up so tightly in this music, it’s sometimes difficult for me to hear. Kaoru played it so beautifully, and so powerfully – it would be pointless to try to describe how I felt – I’m not that good of a writer.
4&5 – Hommage a Michio Kaku and Hommage a Frank Zappa – Hakan returned to play the last two pieces, and as expected ripped the hell out of them. These two pieces were fast and exciting.
This piece was kind of a risk. I wrote it for my good friends John Astaire and Kevin Kishimoto – the instrumentation being cimbalom and theorbo. As far as I know, no one has written any music in the history of humanity for these two instruments together, and they are such unusual instruments that I really had to study and learn them for about a year before I even wrote a single note. They did a really great job with it – I remember when the cimbalom comes in, the sound is like something from another planet – something you’re totally not expecting. I don’t think the audience even heard any music at first – I think it took a minute just to get used to the sound. Unfortunately the cimbalom player is leaving
Siùil ò Rùn
I wrote this piece for Jenna Auterson. She sent me a recording of her singing this traditional Irish melody without accompaniment about two years ago. It was so beautiful and unique, I really wanted to try and do a setting. She came down to
Colors in Silence
This was the other big pressure piece on the recital. I honestly had no idea how it was going to go. It was by far the biggest and most complex piece on the recital (13 singers (solo parts), flute, clarinet/bass clarinet, violin, viola, cello, harp, piano). Everyone came out on stage and set up for the performance. My uncle Rex came out and performed a reading of his poem that the piece is based on “and between the colors, a small silence”. I had never heard him do a poetry reading before, but I knew that he’s done a lot of them in his hometown of
Hyper Lassus Daydream
Rock band at the IU School of Music in Auer Hall – wasn’t quite sure how this was going to go over, but frankly, I didn’t care. I have to say, I put together quite a band. Mike Hanson, pianist – I had just seen him two weeks before perform the Rachmaninoff Paganini Variations as piano soloist with the IU Philharmonic – it was probably the best student piano performance at IU I have seen – and that’s saying a lot. John Astaire, drums – by far the most talented percussionist in this school for a long time – I once saw him play a solo percussion piece, Towards the Precipice by Poul Ruders – a 25 minute tour-de-force of non-stop drumming that if I didn’t see with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have thought it humanly possible. Mutsuhito Ogino, bass – my fellow New Style colleague and also organist – I’ve seen him play such pieces as Bach’s Passacaglia in C minor BWV 582. And then there’s me. I never thought I would find three other people with the criteria I needed to do the piece right – people with classical training and virtuosos on their respective instruments, but who all come from a rock background. We played the shit out of the piece, and Mutsuhito firmly established himself as the greatest rock star in the
So, all in all it was a great success, and I’m glad it’s over. It turned out to be a recital full of music that I had either written for people I love, or written to be performed by and with people I love – couldn’t ask for more.
Thursday, March 2nd – Friday, March 3rd
I was feeling really relieved to have the whole recital over with, and my family was still in town, so we kind of hung out during the day – it was nice. That night, the horrible abdominal pain returned, but worse than ever. I called my parents at the hotel and told them to take me to the hospital. I was admitted and diagnosed with chronic gall bladder disease, and it was at a very advanced state. I was basically drugged up through Friday and can’t remember much, but they decided to rush me into surgery on Saturday morning to remove the gall bladder.
Saturday, March 4th
I went into surgery at 9:30 AM. All I remember is being strapped to the operating table, getting the anesthetic, hearing the surgeon ask me some question, and then waking up to find that it was all over. I basically spent the next few days on morphine, which I’m sure was fun, but I don’t really remember. They told me that my gall bladder, which is normally supposed to be about the size of your thumb, was about the size of a grapefruit. I can really feel a difference in my health – like I haven’t felt in years – and I still can’t believe that I was OK to do the recital.
Now, on to the rest of the crap I have to do for this Doctorate…