Holy S*!t I Passed!

A few weeks ago, I traveled back up to Bloomington, Indiana to take my final Doctoral oral exam. This is the next-to-last step in completing my DM, in which I can use to teach music in a University, or become fry manager at Burger King (or, do a multitude of other things that I don't need a DM to do).

Anyway, for those of you that still have oral exams to take, I thought I would recount my exam as best I could, so you might have some idea of what to expect.

The most distressing thing about this exam is simply the unknown factor. In short, you have no idea what you're going to be asked. This is stressful. lol

The procedure for the exam is this:

1) You choose your committee - this is a panel of three professors of composition, and one, possible two of your minor field advisors. In my case, I had my music history minor field advisor as well as three composition profs - also the director of graduate studies sits in on every oral exam to observe.

2) You make your "repertoire list". This is a list of 12 pieces of music that you come up with, but that has to adhere to certain guidelines, and ultimately has to be approved by everyone on your committee. Some of the guidelines include: 6 pieces are pre-20th century, 3 are 1900-1949, 3 are 1950-present. Also, the 6 pre-20th century pieces have to be in separate genres, and the 6 post-19th century also have to be in separate genres. Those are the big ones - then there are other factors, which any prof. may object to at any time, in which case you have to go back and revise your list (which I had to do like 4 times), until they all can agree and approve it. If you missed my earlier blog, my list came out to be :

PRE-1900 WORKS

Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1525-1594) - Missa Papae Marcelli (1555)
genre: choral

John Dowland (1563-1626) - Lachrimae Pavanes (1604)
genre: chamber music

Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643) - L'Orfeo (1607)
genre: opera

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750) - Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D Major, BWV 1050 (1721)
genre: concerto

Ludwig Van Beethoven (1770-1827) - Symphony No. 7 in A Major (1813)
genre: symphony

Franz Liszt (1811-1886) - Piano Sonata in B Minor (1853)
genre: solo

1900-1949

Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) - Les Noces (1917)
genre: ballet

Béla Bartók (1881-1945) - String Quartet No. 4 (1928)
genre: chamber music

Joaquin Rodrigo (1901-1999)- Concierto de Aranjuez (1939)
genre: concerto

1950-PRESENT

Benjamin Britten (1913-1976) - Death in Venice (1973)
genre: opera

Frederick Rzewski (b. 1938) - The People United Will Never Be Defeated! (1975)
genre: solo

Osvaldo Golijov (b. 1960) - La Pasión según San Marcos (2000)
genre: oratorio/choral
The purpose of creating this list is that you have something to actually study. However, you may or may not be asked anything about these pieces. During my exam, one professor didn't ask me anything about any of these pieces, so, you just never know - hence, the unknown factor. But, all you can do is study these pieces, and anything that could be tangentially related, and hope for the best. I can say that I was asked nothing about the Palestrina, the Dowland, Bach, Beethoven, or Liszt.

4) You set a date to take the exam.

My date was April 27th at 3:30 in the afternoon. After study in March, and intensive study in April, the day finally came - I'll try to generally recount the exam as best I can, but I'll probably forget a few questions.

The exam was held in this conference room in the Graduate office. There was a long conference table in the middle of the room, and I was seated at the head of the table, with the various profs. seated on the sides. A very intimidating position to be in for sure. We all gathered in the room, and they told me to wait outside before we got started. They talked to each other (I'm guessing coordinating their questions) for about 5 minutes, then invited me back in.

As soon as I sat down, Comp. prof. #1 fired away. His first question was, "As if you were teaching a beginning composition student who was having trouble setting text - show examples using the Monteverdi, the Stravinsky, the Britten, and the Golijov of how these composers make music from words - show different techniques from each piece."

After the main question is asked, it then kind of turns into a discussion of sorts - I start talking about examples from the pieces, and as I'm talking, my explanations could spark smaller questions from prof. #1, or even from any of the other profs sitting there. So, we actually talk about this question for about 15 minutes (they each get about 15-20 min each). Then, #1 pulled out the score to the Bartok and pointed to one natural harmonic in the cello, and asked, "What is the actual sounding pitch of this harmonic, and at what other location on the same string could it be fingered to produce the same pitch?" Sorry to all of you non-musicians out there that may be reading this - some of these questions are quite technical.

Prof. #2 started out with questions about the Rzewski. These were smaller, more direct questions than #1 asked - like, "Talk about the structure of the Rzewski - why are there 36 variations - does he use any extended piano techniques that also appear in any of the "Makrokosmos" of George Crumb, and what and where are they" - stuff like that. Then, he asked similar questions about the Rodrigo - short, pointed, very specific questions. He then asked a somewhat tangentially related question, which was "Name 5 American guitar concertos written in the last 25 years".

Prof. #3 asked nothing about any of the pieces on the list. The first thing he did was to put a sheet of blank staff paper in front of me, and said "please notate a nota cambiata". Now, it's been 7 years since I took 16th century counterpoint - I sort of remembered how a cambiata worked, but I was taking too long to figure it out, so he drew four ancient symbols (14th century) that indicated time (like a time signature) and asked me to indicate the modern time signature equivalents for them. Luckily, I knew this one and answered it no problem. Then he asked "Name three compositional techniques strongly associated with three LIVING composers that live outside of the United States". This one is pretty tough - I named lots of composers, but most of them either weren't original proponents of that technique, or they did that technique, but also did other things. I ended up getting two that were "acceptable" answers, and I guess that was good enough.

Now it was my Music History minor field advisors turn. He is not a composer, but a musicologist (a music historian) with a special focus in early baroque music - especially the music of Monteverdi. He pulled out about 5 pages of score from Orfeo (which was the central aria sung by Orfeo "Possente Spirito") and asked me LOTS of detailed questions about the score excerpt, what was going on at this time in the opera, about the instrumentation, performance practices, etc. He was very nice about it - a couple of times I got obviously stuck, and whenever this happened he would very kindly start to guide me toward the answer he wanted. After that, he pulled a page from the libretto of the Britten opera, and asked me more detailed questions about the section of libretto I was looking at, and about the opera at that point.

All this questioning took about an hour and 20 minutes. After, they told me to wait outside while they deliberated. There is no grade for this test, you simply pass it, or fail it. I waited outside for about 10 minutes - it was about the longest 10 minutes of my life.

They invited me back in, and congratulated me for passing. That was it - no talk about how I did or anything like that - just a handshake and a congratulations from each of them.

Now, I have one more thing left to do - to write my dissertation piece. I'm sure I'll blog about that soon. I'm just glad the orals are over - the diss will be cake compared.

The 21st Century Orchestra

A while ago, a friend of mine, conductor Kelly Corcoran, posted a blog on her feelings on the orchestra in the 21st century, and I posted a response to that blog. I just re-read it, and I thought it was pretty interesting, and might be interesting to some of you! Read and discuss! :)



Kelly's Blog post:

What is my vision of the 21st century orchestra?

I believe that the 21st century orchestra must have relevance to its community and to the world. Despite efforts in education and other community events, American orchestras in particular have become more and more disconnected from the greater community. While the average American is passionate about some genre of music, most are not supporters of classical music. I believe that while everyone may not be destined to become a lover of classical music, it is the duty of American orchestras in the 21st century to reinvent classical music and its role within our world.



In a culture of Walmart, American Idol and fast food, why is classical music relevant in the modern world and especially in the United States? Music, like all the arts, is an expression of our culture. Through music, one can discuss politics, rebellion, anger, love and literally every aspect of our existence. Music is capable of speaking to, motivating and inspiring, the masses. When looking at nearly every historical event in our world, the arts reflect the views and the strength of humanity. It is art that is the primary artifact that we have to reflect upon our heritage and history and in turn discover who we are as a culture and what we want to be in the future.



I come from a family that is not musical. My father is a police officer and my mother is a businesswoman. Neither is a supporter of classical music. They would never buy a classical CD and even with two daughters that have pursued music as a career, they rarely attend concerts. I often ask them why they do not listen to classical music, especially since they are obsessive about other genres of music like rock and country. They respond: popular music has lyrics, there is not always a popular culture reference in classical music, classical music is not mainstream, it is not Americanized enough, we dont know how to connect with it. The main thing they repeat: we just dont hear it enough; we did not grow up with it. They both agree that if they had more exposure to classical music they would possibly be interested in learning more about it.



If the conclusion is that we need to have more exposure to classical music and hear it from an early age, lets look at what orchestras are doing to address these points. Many orchestras have thriving education concerts. At the Canton Symphony, we are successful in connecting with young people and presenting music in a context where it can connect with the rest of their lives. For us, our educational programs focus on children from Kindergarten through Sixth grade. What about high school and college? This is where most young people begin to find themselves and this is the time when we need to continue to sustain our efforts so that the seeds that we plant in childhood can truly grow into flowering adults. Classical music, like any genre, will be subject to opinion, but it is our duty to place this genre on an equal playing field with the other popular music of our culture.



As technology and the pace of business become increasingly faster, young people and adults alike are spending more and more time on the Internet and plugged in. Having recently created my own music site on MySpace, I have become nearly obsessive with the sheer quantity of music that is available at your fingertips on the Internet. Never before in history has it been so easy to listen to all kinds of music. Where one may rarely browse or wander into the section at the record store for a genre that they are not interested in, online, one can quickly take a second to give a new band or artist a chance before passing judgment. Classical music MUST be present on music sites like MySpace. It is not enough to merely be present, but the history and depth of classical music must be represented in the scope of what is available online. Sites like MySpace allow audiences the opportunity to hear orchestras and compositions of all kinds. Genres like Rock and Pop are saturated with bands and new artists and the actual level of talent within these genres is quite extreme. People are growing more and more passionate about developing eclectic tastes of many different styles and quality classical music should be part of the mix. Why shouldnt one listen to the New York Phil play Mozart next to cutting edge rock bands like Muse or U2, or listen to Renee Fleming followed by Sting? Music is music and by juxtaposing different genres, we hear everything in a new way. The Internet is our platform to intermingle the diversity of the world and in turn draw people into our concert halls.



Classical music does have some obstacles, especially in the concert hall. When the average American thinks of a concert, they think of a performance with a specific musician that they know, like Billy Joel or Elton John. During the concert, the musician interacts with the audience and there is a casual feeling of entertainment and excitement. This is quite different from the formality of the average orchestral concert where the musicians come on stage and you really know very little about them. One may say, it doesnt matter, you dont need to know them, you are there to listen to and enjoy the music. This may be true, but it is absolutely opposite of the typical American concert experience. Orchestras need to reinvent the concert experience not necessarily with casual clothes on stage or extravagant strobe lights. It can be as simple as pre and post concert events where audience members can meet the musicians and turn them into local celebrities or putting up a big screen behind the stage where a camera zooms in on certain musicians during a performance. Suddenly, one can see the expression on the face of the oboe player during his or her solo, or see how fast those fingers are moving on those string instruments. This is already being done in many education concerts, but why not integrate it into a subscription event? Variety and balance are key.



Looking back through the centuries, orchestras have evolved. Wagners orchestra was much bigger than Mozarts, Bernstein championed the education concert and today orchestras are thinking more and more outside the box. What does the future hold? Perhaps there are still new orchestral instruments to be created and integrated into the repertoire, maybe the format of the concert experience will change, maybe there will be more education concerts than any other type of concert. These changes are important, but to me, my vision will be complete if three steps are achieved. First, orchestras must champion classical music as a genre and be advocates for the exposure of classical music. If MTV is truly music television, why isnt there a segment dedicated to classical music? When walking through the mall, why shouldnt it be classical music playing? Why cant classical music be used as a theme song for a TV show? Why shouldnt MySpace have as many classical music pages as any other genre? Orchestras must actively be pursuing all of these issues. Secondly, an orchestra must be an essential, indispensable part of ones community, to the point where any large-scale community event would naturally involve the orchestra. This can be accomplished through education programs, but must be specific to the identity of each unique community. Lastly, and most importantly, all programs must have relevance to our world. These connections already exist in the programs that orchestras currently perform. They must simply be pointed out to our audiences. For example, in Canton, we performed Beethovens Ninth Symphony with Marvin Hamlischs Anatomy of Peace. Beethovens message of brotherhood and unity was echoed in the modern, current message of peace and one law for all that was found in Hamlischs work. Through connections, we can see that the messages of the past are often still the messages of today. One does not need to perform Rock or Pop music on a program with Classical repertoire to find relevance. It is always there on a deep and strong level in the greatest classical literature.



If orchestras can point out to their audiences why every performance is a different, magical moment in time, our American culture will want to be a part of it. Perhaps one day next to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland there will be a Classical Music Hall of Fame packed with visitors scrambling to get a view of Coplands letters, Bernsteins baton or one of the taxicabs Philip Glass used to drive. Or, maybe, there will be an exhibit on the influence of Ravi Shankar and Indian music on musicians like Philip Glass to the Beatles, now thats a connection!



My response:


Kelly,

Great blog - I whole heartedly agree with you on all counts, but I'd like to get a dialogue going on this and respond to all of your points. I think we see everything very much the same - however from different points of view - yours from a conductors (inside looking out) - mine from a composers (outside looking in).

Let me start off by getting this out of my system - hehe - as a composer of the 21st century, I feel like I've been abandoned by the orchestra. Now let me also say that I think, from the composer's perspective, that this is almost 100% our fault. Composers really got greedy and careless with the orchestra and their audiences in the last century - and I believe that it is imperative that orchestras stop performing this "academic" music immediately - yes I said it! If a piece of music needs a dissertation in the program to be understood, it shouldn't be on the program. It's true that there are often lengthy program notes for pieces like the Beethoven you mentioned - however, since this piece was written nearly 200 years ago and in a completely different world, this is necessary. At the time that Beethoven wrote the piece however, it was relevant to its audience. Today's music should be relevant to today's audiences. There ARE composers out there trying to achieve this (mostly of my generation or younger) - but as long as the "new music" spots are being taken by the Samuel Adlers out there (let that music stay in the universities and the "composers conferences" where it belongs), we will NEVER gain the modern audiences trust or admiration again.

You mentioned programs that mix genres - like Mozart and Sting, etc. I agree that this would be really cool - however, what you don't mention is trying to find some modern music written for the orchestra that can connect with these audiences in the same way that the Sting can. I honestly believe that the only way to save the orchestra is through its repertoire, and right now - as great as the standard rep is - it's become nothing more than a historical curiosity.

I also believe that the orchestra itself HAS to change - radically. You also mentioned this point, but I'd like to elaborate on it if that's cool (from my perspective). The orchestra today is essentially still rooted in traditions that carry over from the 19th century - including its instrumentation and conventions like seating and a strict hierarchy in the sections. Today's audiences are used to hearing recorded and amplified music. Classical stalwarts will hold that they have simply lost the ability to "hear" the orchestra - bullshit. It's called CHANGE. Orchestras need to become more flexible in instrumentation - also concerts need to be amplified and mixed - and also recorded that way in the studio. I'm speaking of as of yet unwritten works - I agree that any repertoire written in the 19th century should be performed in that tradition - but for today, that tradition is dead, and orchestras are not moving forward.

Let me add a disclaimer now, and tell you that I very much hope you're not taking any of this as an attack on you or even on the orchestra - my intention is not to attack - it's just laying out how I feel - that's all :)

As a 21st century composer, I absolutely feel it's my DUTY to connect with people of today. If that doesn't happen - well - then I fail I guess. But I - like many other composers my age - need help doing it. If orchestras are not actively seeking us out, then none of it will ever matter.

I also come from a completely non musical family - maybe that has given us some perspective - who knows. I grew up playing rock music - it was my first experience with writing and playing, and I have always embraced it (even when a very famous American composer told me to NEVER listen to rock music again). This has always caused friction with every composition professor I've had - and honestly, as I have started to embrace it more and more as of late, it has really created a rift between myself and many on the comp faculty of my last school. They see a change coming, and believe me they do not like it - it is a very real threat to all of them, which is why these established composers will fight tooth and nail to keep music like mine far away from orchestras.

Sorry if this is an out of control rant, but you brought up some issues that have opened the flood gates - haha.

I think I'll leave it at that for now - if you disagree with anything that I've said or feel like I'm just misinformed, please let me know. Thanks for posting this Kelly - the orchestra and classical music world needs people like you out there.

Why do I write music??

I was thinking the other day - why do we write music? Is it to impress a small group of people with our compositional skill - or is it to move people on an emotional and perhaps even a spiritual level? That got me thinking of what my motivations have been for writing music over the course of my life. What motivated me to write music, and for what purpose was I writing?

Impressions

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.

Graduate School

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.

NEW CDs AVAILABLE!

I have three new CDs available from Lulu.com!

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

What's Next...

So, the question that everyone keeps asking me is, "What are you going to do next?".

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.

a week-and-a-half in the life of...

A Week-and-a-Half in the Life of …

Friday, February 24^th

I made a trip out to Urbana, Illinois because the Uni. Of Illinois Orchestra was performing my alto flute concerto Three Lamentations on the Death of John Dowland. It was part of the “Midwest Composers Symposium” – an annual event of compositions by student composers from Indiana University, Uni. of Michigan, Uni. of Iowa, Oberlin Conservatory and the Uni. of Illinois. Normally, I would never attend such a “conference” – the biggest reason being that I think composers putting concerts of their music only for other composers is stupid and pointless – BUT, they were doing a big piece, and Kathryn Lukas, the flute prof. from IU was performing the solo part again – I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

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 25^th

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 Midwest. The first question to the panel was, “does the American Midwest have its own artistic culture that we can draw from?” Even before the question was finished I started shaking my head “no”. Haha – sorry Midwesterners – it’s true.

Sunday, February 26^th

Back in Bloomington – more recital rehearsals for my Wednesday, March 1^st DM recital. At 8PM I had the 2^nd, and final regular rehearsal for Colors in Silence. The rehearsals for this piece had not been going so incredibly well, and this rehearsal was no exception. I don’t mean that the performers were not performing well – they were doing a great job – the ones that were actually at rehearsal that is. I was getting worried – one, because I had put on a performance the previous semester for the sole purpose of having people come back the next semester, rehearse the piece with new knowledge and rigor, and have a great performance on my recital. Secondly, because my uncle Rex Walton was coming to the concert, and was even doing a reading of his poem before the piece. He is a poet, and I set his poem “and between the colors, a small silence” in Colors in Silence. It was a tribute to his poem, and I felt an enormous amount of pressure to have the piece come off really well. It just seemed like an annoying chore for everyone involved – I didn’t feel any love for the piece from the people involved – it seemed like it was just something they had to do. Despite several people not showing – we did the rehearsal as best we could. We would rehearse again at 7PM the night of the concert in the hall – the first time that everyone would be there, and only an hour before the performance.

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 27^th

Monday I had some rehearsals, and picked up Mu from the airport straight from his Holland adventure. That night, I got yet another horrible pain in my abdomen that kept me up all night. I had a similar pain a week before, and have been having related health issues for at least a year. The first time I had this particular intense pain was around a year ago, and was so bad I drove myself to the emergency room, where they made me wait there in pain for like 4 hours and then just told me I was constipated and sent me on my way. However these issues had been getting worse and more frequent lately, but I just attributed it to the extreme stress from the recital.

Tuesday, February 28^th

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 1^st – 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.

Obsidian Soliloquy

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 Bloomington for a few months, but hopefully I will be able to do a studio recording by May.

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 Bloomington from Terra Haute, Indiana and sang the piece. It was such a great honor to have the person that inspired the piece actually come and be able to sing it. No one could have done it like she did – no one here at IU has the right voice, or has the emotional and personal connection to the music like she does, and it really showed. Kaoru played the piano equally as beautifully. I was so proud of her, and people at the recital were really taken with her and her voice – it was definitely a hit.

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 Lincoln, Nebraska. He was amazing – he had the entire audience absolutely and totally captivated, and by the time he was finished, the entire room, including the performers, were primed to go. It set the stage for what was to become an amazing performance. I don’t know how it happened, but it all came together at precisely the right time, and it was moving, powerful, beautiful, introspective, colorful – it was awesome.

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 School of Music. So, the balance was totally fucked – I was too soft, Mu was too loud, the hall turned our sound into mush most of the time, but we had fun up there, and believe me, it’s unusual to see performers on any stage in the school of music actually having fun. It was a profound feeling for me, because it was the last piece I’ll perform on a stage as a student, and performing a rock band piece, I felt I had come full circle back to where I started in the first place.

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 2^nd – Friday, March 3^rd

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 4^th

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…

Where do I belong?

For a long time I've been trying to figure out where I (I meaning my music) fit within today's cultural society? I'm not even talking about some broad topic, like where does classical music fit into our society or something like that - I'm talking about MY music. Where do I fit?

The normal course that composers take (for the most part) is, they get a doctorate in music composition, and then they go teach music composition in a university somewhere in utter obscurity, keeping the academic tradition alive. The university, for us has become our new patron. In the past, it might have been the church, or the King, or some rich Duke - but now, it's the university that allows composers to keep writing this kind of music and still be able to earn a living.

I have to say that it's a pretty dismal time to be a young composer in the United States right now - especially if you're like me - 32 years old (young, but not young enough) - white (boooring) - male (too many of us in the field) - and pretty much after 2003, the worst possible thing I could be according to the rest of the world - AMERICAN. Not that I don't understand, it's just a shame that my reputation as an artist should be hurt by these assholes in Washington. And I'm not trying to say that I feel I'm getting the shaft because I'm white - that's ridiculous. However, I'm just not what people want at this point in time.

Generally speaking though, it's rough for everyone - especially in the United States. We're being pushed away from all sides - even from within. I've talked briefly about the performer situation in a past blog. I would say that probably 90% of all the performers in this school can't name a single living composer. This is perpetuated by their teachers - the attitude that it's not important to play something new. To use piano again as an example - importance is put on playing mostly 19th century rep. This being Chopin, Schumann, Liszt, Beethoven, etc. However, during these composers lives, all they played was new music. If any of them had had the same attitude, we wouldn't have any of that music - they would have all been playing Bach and Handel and Telemann and Domenico Scarlatti.

Speaking of outside the classical music world, we're not even being pushed away anymore - that's already happened - we no longer exist in the minds of the public. When the general populace thinks "composer", they usually think "film composer", or maybe some new age artist. Some of this is our fault, some of it isn't. We can look to composers of the mid 20th century - especially to the famous statement attributed to Milton Babbit "Who Cares If You Listen?". This was the prevailing sentiment of many of the top academic composers of last century, and because they had a safe income from the university, they were in fact free to compose whatever the hell they wanted, and didn't have to worry if anyone liked it or not. As an artist, I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, in theory, it's great that they were able to pursue art outside of capatalist concerns - for arts sake. On the other hand, in practice, this served to alienate the general populace from concert music. This air of superiority seperated the general public even further - to the point where Babbit's statement can now be taken from the other side, the public, but changed to "Who the Fuck Cares?".

Also, classical music is hardly something for this day and age - being presented in the traditional fasion. I was thinking this at the last symphony concert I attended. I was sitting in this absolutely cavernous hall, with an orchestra on a distant, massive stage. The sound of the unamplified instruments dissipating in the vast space of the oversized hall. The sound itself was, to our 21st century ears, pale and distant. This was music presented as in a museum - not something new and exciting, but stale and old - something worth preserving, but not worthy of the resources (or effort in marketing or presentation) given to modern pop music. Even classical recording, save for film scores, are usually done as cheaply as possible, with maybe a few room mics to pick up the whole of the sound. To truly record an orchestra with the sonic depth given to any rock band would be a major financial undertaking, and would probably require a team of expert audio engineers - not to mention pay for the orchestra musicians and studio time in a large enough studio to accomodate such forces. I think the recording companies were well aware of this problem from the beginning - which is one reason (I think) this kind of music is never presented or marketed in any way to the public. It's just not music of our time.

I'm not trying to make some kind of profound statement here (yet). I'm mostly just typing down my thoughts on the issue. It's all very tough to deal with, because this is where my heart and soul is - this music - the music that I write, and it all definitely comes from this tradition. I don't want to become just another academic sitting in my office in my university writing pieces for the university orchestra or the university band. Maybe some of you would tell me that I should be happy with that, and I could lie and tell you that I am very happy to have that opportunity. I have big ideas in my head, but it's difficult to make them happen when there's no resources. It's difficult to write, for example, orchestra music when you feel that your music is not wanted, especially by the orchestras themselves.

This brings me to Schoenberg. How the hell does that bring me to Schoenberg? He really represents two sides of these issues. For those that don't know, when you study music, you are evetually innundated with Schoenberg, and for the most part, composers in academic settings usually hold him in high regard. A long time ago, I said to myself "You know, I'm tired of pretending I like Schoenberg". It's true that, while I can appreciate Schoenberg's music and the true genius that's behind it, I don't like it. But, I have come to appreciate Schoenberg in a very different way as of late. Basically, Schoenberg's uncompromising vision for his music and his art is almost unparalleled in the entire history of art. The guy took more shit from more people than anyone else - not just over his music, but sometimes for just being a jew, and never once strayed from his artistic vision. In this school for example, I contantly see composers writing things, then being criticized either by their peers, or by their teachers, and instantly running back into their holes to try to rectify the situation - retreating at the first negative comment. Given the historical circumstances in which Schoenberg lived in, musical as well as political and racial, it is absolutely INCREDIBLE that he wrote the music that he did, and achieved the position that he did. To have this strength of will and this absolute confidence in artistic vision should be the goal of every artist, and every artist should look to Schoenberg as one of the greatest examples of this in history.

But, can this uncompromising attitude fly in this century?

GFA

I just got back from the Guitar Foundation of America International Guitar Competition, where I saw Duo 46 perform my piece Sonata 46 in concert. Of course, they ripped the hell out of it, like they always do. It got a huge reaction from the audience like it always does - thunderous applause, hooting and hollering, shouts of "Bravo!". However, the response after the concert was not quite what I had hoped it would be. I was approached by a few people (one was David Tanenbaum - that was pretty cool), but not a whole lot - and no one asked me if I had any music for sale, or had a CD, or web site, or anything - kind of dissapointing.

The concerts I saw however, were not.

I got in to Oberlin, Ohio after 8PM on Sunday night, so I was only able to catch the last half of David Tanenbaum's concert. I wish I would have left Bloomington an hour earlier, because this concert was awesome. David's thing is playing new music by living composers (I even got to thank him the next day for representing composers - I've wanted to thank him for that for a long time). I saw him play a very interesting piece by Lou Harrison written for a kind of steel string guitar with a steel body that was invented in the 1920's for jazz guitarists in the pre-electric guitar era. Very cool sound - I wasn't so hot on the piece itself, but it was a cool sound and a cool idea. The highlight of the evening was definitely Aaron Jay Kernis's 100 Greatest Dance Hits, for guitar and string quartet. He played the piece with the top student quartet from Oberlin (they were unbelievable players) and they all played the shit out of it - very exciting.

The next day (Monday) was the Duo 46 concert which they shared with guitarist Randall Avers (who played the second half). I've already commented on my piece above. The other highlights were Seastone by Brian Hulse, and Mountain Songs by Robert Beaser. The Mountain Songs are already established classics - great pieces - but the Hulse is new. I don't know anything about him, but I've heard Seastone twice now, and it's a really great piece. Duo 46 rocks man - I'm so glad and feel so lucky to be writing for them.

After Duo 46, Randall Avers came onto the stage to play his recital. At first, I was feeling a little lackluster about his program - Giuliani, Mertz, Mompou - but there was Brouwer - that made me feel better. However, the concert that he preceded to play was probably the most incredible guitar recital I've seen. I didn't know the Giuliani piece, but I had heard the Mertz (Elegie) and the Brouwer (Sonata) many times before. I've never heard them played like this - ever. The depth of understanding - the musicianship - the sensitivity to every nuance was at a level I've never seen from a guitarist. I was totally blown away by him. I got to meet him and have lunch with him the next day, and he was a super nice guy and humble - same age as me and we have many mutual friends. I gave him some of my music and a CD - hoping that I can work with him someday - would be awesome. It's basically every composer's dream to work with a performer of Randall's caliber.

That night, the feature concert was Paul Galbraith. He has been one of my favorite guitarists in the world since the release of his Bach recordings. He plays a custom 8-string classical guitar (one extra high string, one extra low string) and holds it like a cello - vertically with the headstock slung over his left shoulder. He has a large, wooden end-pin (just where the cello end-pin would be) that sits on top of a large resonator box - this amplifies his whole guitar even more. Even though he's one of the most incredible guitarists on the planet right now, and I was in complete awe of his playing and his sound and his technique - his choice of repertoire was less than ideal for me. For me it was just - boring. He played some "baroque" keyboard suite that Mozart had written for his wife - boring as hell and definitely NOT one of Mozart's finest moments. Then, the Quatre Pieces Breves of Frank Martin - ehh. Then the French Suite no. 2 of J.S. Bach - this was cool, but again a bit boring for guitar. I was dead tired, so I skipped the second half to go sleep.

On Tuesday, I watched my two good friends Jon Kulp and Matthew Hinsley present Jon's song cycle Five Poems of Emily Dickinson. The presentation was very interesting, and Matt performed several of Jon's songs, including the entire Dickinson cycle. Matthew has developed a very unique niche for himself. He performs song repertoire, usually performed by a guitarist and singer, or pianist and singer. He sings and plays - an amazing feat - especially if you see it happen right in front of you. His performance of Jon's songs was so moving, there were several times I had to consciously keep tears from streaming down my face. They are such great pieces, and were performed so well and with great understanding and sensitivity of how to meld music with poetic meaning. I really think they will be part of the standard song repertoire in the future.

It was an awesome time, and I hope I get to go back again sometime. Guitar rules.

Hommage a Mandy Morris

I'm sitting here, in the middle of working on my newest Hommage for Piano, the "Hommage a Mandy Morris". I started the piece 2 days ago, and I'll likely finish it tonight, or tomorrow. It's coming very quickly, but it's also a struggle at the same time. I'm using a fragment of one of Mandy's pop songs as the genesis and basis for the piece. I've been sitting here for 3 days now listening to a recording of her singing and playing piano - hearing her voice over and over again. Then, I listen back to what I have written, and I hear Mandy again. The music is like Mandy's song run through some kind of Tony Lanman plug-in. It's my music - and it's her music - somehow fused into one. It's clearly me, but it's also clearly her. It's difficult to think in a clear, compositional way, because it's extremely difficult when my eyes well up every time I listen back to what I've done.

I guess it represents something - the only possible union between us. I'm creating that union out of some part of her that she left behind. That's a power that I think only music has - it's an incredible thought - I only hope she can hear it when it's done...

Stranger's Blog

I've been a little stressed lately because of school and the recital, but I found something today that picked me up a little. I happened upon a strangers blog (from doing a search of my name on Clusty.Com), and this is what I found:

Five songs that mean a lot to me: Maaya Sakamoto's "Getsuyou no Asa", Ueno Kouji's "Beaufort no Kodomo-tachi" (shows you how much I'm obsessed with Fantastic Children, doesn't it? Pathetic), Anthony Joseph Lanman's "Il dolce stile nuovo", Frou Frou's "Must Be Dreaming", Peter Pan's "Di Belakangku"

I have no clue who these other artists are, but just knowing that my music is truly getting out to people, and that this girl posted in her blog that one of my pieces was of the the five that really means something to her - I can't explain the feeling - just an awesome, awesome feeling. Also, knowing that this is not someone in the concert music world - not someone in the academic world - this is who I'm trying to reach, and it's really happening. I feel good :)

Down...

I've been in the initial stages of finding performers for my Nov. 15th DM recital, and I have to say it has not been going well. First, the pianist that recorded the Hommages for Piano - the same one that promised to do them on my recital, has backed out. Also, a few days ago, Carmen Tellez, the director of the Contemporary Vocal Ensemble here at IU, allowed me to come in at the beginning of thier rehearsal to speak about my piece (Colors in Silence), and to try to recruit some of them to sing in it. I got NO interest - NONE - not a single name. No one cares...

Sometimes it's very frustrating and disheartening to be a composer.

Letter to a conductor

I've just started contacting performers and conductors for my DM recital here at Indiana University, scheduled (now officially) for Tuesday, November 15th @ 5PM in Auer Hall. In doing so, the most difficult piece to put together for the recital (by far) will be my "Colors in Silence", for 13 solo singers (2 sopranos, 3 mezzo-sopranos, 2 altos, 2 tenors, 2 baritones, 2 basses), flute, clarinet, violin, viola, cello, piano and harp.

Since the piece is very new in many ways, I feel it will require more rehearsal than normally given. I've been thinking about this issue for a while now, especially regarding large ensembles doing new music, and why a lot of the time, new music is not recieved well by audiences. My goal is to not pass any kind of blame on anyone for anything, just to point out a symptom of an existing problem. I just wrote this email to my conductor for the piece, and it all came pouring out. I hope she takes it in the right way!

I have some thoughts on the piece regarding rehearsal.

This piece (as you will remember when you get the score) is very different and in some ways new in its musical conception, writing and execution. For these reasons, I want to start rehearsals a month before the performance. Before you freak out :) - let me explain why.

The piece is somewhat demanding as far as notes, etc for the singers and players, and of course getting it together as an emsemble will be challenging, but that's not the main difficulty. What I am seeing more and more (and for many pieces this is totally fine, but not for all), is a sort of crash course approach to learning new pieces without enough time for the performers to really understand the piece as a piece of music. More often than not, the performers are simply reading notes and rhythms onstage, with absolutely no concept of what the piece is supposed to sound like, or how it works as a coherent piece of music. I mean, if the ensemble has no clue how the piece is supposed to work or sound as an ensemble, let alone as an individual, how is the piece supposed to make any kind of sense to an audience? Our performers today are so technically good, that it's true they can learn things extremely quickly, but as you know, performing music is more than playing the right notes and rhythms, regardless of how flawlessly they are executed. A great performance also brings in something more - maybe something you can't really explain, but some kind of musical synergy that can only be felt. This simply takes a little time to live with the piece and let it swim around in your head for a while. Normally I wouldn't make a big deal about it, but I really believe that the special nature of this piece requires a longer exposure to really "get" it. I don't just want a glorified reading - I want a real performance. Maybe in the current musical climate this will be seen as too demanding, but I pour my heart and soul into every piece I write, and I don't think it's too much to strive for. I'm sorry if I sound like I'm lecturing you, I don't mean to, I'm just trying to explain how I feel about it.

In any case, we should talk about it. Maybe if we just did a few rehearsals a week for four weeks - that would be incredible, and I think allow for a real chance at something special. I will work my ass off to find perfromers that will really commit to the project. If I haven't scared you away (hehe) then I'll see you soon and we can discuss it more - thanks again!

My point is clear I think: no audience can understand a piece of music if the performers themselves don't understand it. This point also has nothing to do with style or genre. This could apply to the most tonal piece of music (such as something by Arvo Pärt for example) to something like Anton Webern. Music comes down to passion, and commitment, and if those two elements don't exist in the performance, it's not a performance.

Interview

Here is a transcript of an interview I did on the Kalvos & Damian New Music Bazaar last year.

INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT

You can also hear the interview here.

"Is John Adams still alive?"

Dude - was the last time I really updated this blog May 17th? Jesus man - what's up with you?!

Well, the summer has been a sort of fruitful one - I guess I could have been a little less of a slacker, but that wouldn't have been true to form now would it? Personal stuff aside (hey - this is supposed to be a music blog - still not sure if I still want to post all of my stupid personal BS online - I mean who cares?), I have thought a lot about music this summer.

One of the biggest things I've been thinking about is the fact that, as much as I really want to bring people's interest and passion back to concert music, I think it's even more important (or, more pressing) that we (composers) win back our performers first.

I recently met quite a few performers here at IU, most of them being pianists, and I made it a point to ask every single one of them the same, simple question. "Have you ever played any new music?"

Most just said no, but occasionally, one would say, "Yeah, I LOVE new music!". "Great!" I'd say, "What have you played?". "Well, I played Bernstein, and Bartok, and Copland!".

*bangs head against wall*

Is something that's 50 years old new? Is something that was written by someone who DIED 30-60 years ago of OLD AGE new?!? "How does this make sense to people?", I ask.

I asked one guy if he even knew of any living composers - now keep in mind this is a classical pianist - this is supposed to be someone that would actually play a composers music - his answer: "Is John Adams still alive?"

A few weeks ago, I had a conversation about this very issue with my good friend and newstyle colleague, Mutsuhito Ogino. Mu had recently returned from Paris, France where he studied at the summer program at L'Ecole Normale. During the festival, his Clarinet Suite was performed, but according to him, not extremely well. He was dumbfounded as to why the pianist had such trouble with the piece, as technically it's not difficult, and she had also performed such technically and musically demanding work as Dutilleux.

I think there are many reasons that living composers have to suffer often not-so-great premiers and performances. One reason is that the piece doesn't exist in the real world yet, only in the mind of the composer. There is nothing for the performer to refer to, except the score - no one in the history of humanity has played or interpreted this piece - in a sense it doesn't even really exist yet. An analogy can be drawn to our observation of a person. We can say that a piece like Beethoven's 5th Symphony is like an old man. We can look at him, smell him, talk to him, examine his long life in detail, get to know his personality - he exists in the world and has existed for a long time - it's not hard to see him and get to know him. On the other hand, Mu's piece is like an unborn fetus. What is this person like? What do they smell like? How do they interact with others? Etc etc - it is impossible to tell because the person exists only in the womb of its mother. The only real way to observe the person in this state is through an ultrasound picture, which is merely a fuzzy, abstract representation on the actual person, which needs to be explained to the parents (or anyone else) by the doctor - the ultrasound being analogous to a musical score.

A piece of music is no different. I have found repeatedly over the years that people are much more likely to want to perform a piece of music that has already been recorded well. This is simply because it already exists in the world - it can be understood simply by observing it. You don't have to be a doctor and actually give birth to the thing, which can be a long and sometimes painful ordeal.

One misconception that I think many performers have (and unfortunately their teachers as well) is that they fully expect a brand new piece to be as instantly understandable as a Beethoven Sonata. If they don't "get it" right away, then it's no good, or sub-standard, or something's wrong with it. What they don't realize is that when Beethoven wrote his sonatas, no one understood them at first, and that's well documented (just read Slominsky's "Lexicon of Musical Invective" sometime).

I've been saying for a while now that I want to "win back" our performers - that I think it's important, but what am I really doing about it? I think I'm going to email every instrumental studio/professor and ask them if I can speak in that studios weekly master class about this issue. Today's performers do not take new music seriously, and don't even consider it important to play. This is SCARY. We need to change this. I'm currently formulating how I'm going to approach talking about this issue without making it an attack on the performers, or thier teachers. More on this later - and more updates - I promise!

Artist Review Numero Uno

I just recently purchased this PBS DVD called "Art 21", which documents several living artists currently creating new and exciting work in the 21st century. I find this extremely fascinating, because for one, I absolutely love art, especially painting, and I feel very intimately linked to it through color and sound. One big reason for this is that I experience synaesthesia when I hear sound - something that I've always experienced but never really talked about for personal reasons, although I'm starting to talk about it a little bit now. So, when I look at paintings (especially abstract ones such as Jackson Pollock for instance), I can "see" sound, just like I can "hear" color. As I'm not really in the art world, I don't know who most of these people are or what kind of work they are doing, but I found it so fascinating that I thought I would sort of talk about each artist that I learn about, starting with three.

Richard Serra

Serra is a groundbreaker in the world of sculpture, and is doing some very exciting new things with the medium. He creates these absolutely massive, architectural and monolithic sculptures that somehow still contain movement. You can actually walk into these massive sculptures, which kind of ecapsulate the space inside, making the air within sort of part of the sculpture. I get the feeling that these things are something to be experienced as much as seen. I was actually surprised at how fascinated I was with his work, since sculpture and installation don't usually resonate with me as much as painting does.

Sally Mann

Again, I wasn't expecting to be as taken with this as I was given that her medium is photography, and black and white photography at that, but I was wrong again - heh. Sally Mann is interested in capturing the everyday and the mundane, but catching it somewhat flawed, or just "off". Her method of working is really interesting. She uses and old 19th century camera, and take the photographs onto chemically treated glass plates (a 19th century technique) which produces - man, just incredible looking images of seemingly ordinary things. It forces you to re-examine the ordinary in these things and wonder if there's more to it that you're missing. Some of the photos turn out ghostly, or ambiguous or obscured in some way. Others are so clear and confront you in such a personal way that they are almost uncomfortable to look at. Great stuff.

Margaret Kilgallen & Barry McGee

This husband and wife (in thier 20's at the time of the Art 21 documentary - or at least right around 30) work in a really wide variety of mediums and settings. It really wasn't made clear in the documentary that they were even together, and I just now found out (when I was looking for a link) that Margaret recently died of breast cancer at age 33, which really made me sad. Both of them had a strong connection to underground street art, especially graffiti (which they would do on public walls, fences, trains, whatever - and incredibly great stuff too - these two are truly talented), but also work in the gallery world selling thier work to collectors. It was interesting the dilemma that they found themselves in. On the one hand they enjoyed living as artists and making a living from selling their art, but on the other hand were careful not to lose touch with the world outside of the very closed and elite gallery and auction house world. They were actually more concerned with reaching "regular" people in the real world, than impressing a bunch of art buyers at art auctions, which I thought was extremely cool (something I'm really trying to keep in mind with my music). I was particularly taken with Barry McGee's work, which was definitely not pretentious and really aimed at a more underground and real art scene, but at the same time the dude has serious chops - really talented.

OK, more to come....

Recent Composition

Recently I've been hard at work on my piece for Fireworks called "Hyper Lassus" that's going to be premiered at the Oregon Bach Festival on July 2nd. I have to have the entire thing finished, including score and parts by May 31st (and I started it on May 10th), and even though I have a love/hate relationship with tight deadlines, the piece is actually coming very nicely. I've listened to as much of the group's recordings as I could, and they definitely have a direction towards lighter, more entertaining pieces, which is cool because I'm in the mood to do just that sort of thing. Nothing too "serious", but at the same time I don't want to write a piece of fluff (which I feel I could never let myself do anyway). The piece is essentially for rock band, and I'm writing a rock "piece". It's definitely treading a fine line, and at many moments in the piece it's really hard to say exactly what it is - is it concert music - is it rock - pop - metal - jazz? I think if just one person thinks this to themselves, I've succeeded with this piece on a certain level.

I'm actually taking some of that desire from the guest composer-in-residence that I'll be working closely with, Osvaldo Golijov. His "Pasión Segun San Marcos" does just that - it's really an impossibility to classify the piece into one specific genre, and I absolutely love music like that - I hope to achieve this with mine. I know that the first time I heard the piece, I was saying "What IS this???" the entire time - I want someone to say that about "Hyper Lassus" - hehe. Writing this piece produces a special feeling in me. I came into music school, in 1996 as a rock musician, and now, in my last year of school ten years later, I'm writing for rock band again, but this time with a world of experience and knowledge that I didn't have before.

I've also decided to do my doctoral composition recital in October, which leaves me with a lot of music to write this summer. In addition to "Hyper Lassus", I'm writing a new song cycle for guitarist Daniel Bolshoy and mezzo-soprano Julie Nesrallah, of which I have already completed one and a half songs (but had to stop to work on the rock band piece), and then I WILL complete this cimbalom and theorbo duet for John Astaire and Kevin Kishimoto that's been swimming around in my head for at least a year. After those are complete, I plan to write one more piano hommage - an Hommage to Mandy Morris. So, the projected program should look like this:

-Hommages for Piano
-Soliloquy for Fallen Leaves
-Unrequited Pop Songs
-Colors In Silence
-Hyper Lassus

That's about an hour of music, which is plenty. Hopefully the next few weeks will go as smoothly for "Hyper Lassus" as it's been going. I'm excited about it - FINALLY I get to rock out again!

My Top Ten, All Time Desert Island CD's as of 05/10/2005

I was inspired by my recent viewing of one of my favorite movies to make out my top ten CD's of music that I would bring with me if I were stranded on a desert island. This list applies only to the time I post it, and will surely change soon after, at least partially. Also, these are in no particular order of rank.

1. J.S. Bach - Lute Suites & Violin Sonatas and Partitas. What can I say, Bach is my favorite composer of all time, and these pieces are some of my favorites. It includes the Prelude, Fugue and Allegro, BWV 998 - one of the most under-appreciated and obscure works of Bach that, unfortunately only guitarists know because it was a work for lute. It has one of Bach's most incredible fugues that he ever wrote (in my opinion). I particularly love these recordings by guitarist Paul Galbraith, played on 8-string classical guitar. His transcriptions for guitar are thoughtful, historically informed, and musical.
2. Louis Andriessen - De Staat. I HATED this piece the first time I heard it. For some reason, it was just something so different that my mind violently rejected it on the first hearing. I didn't hear it again for several years, but something made me go back and check it out again. During that second hearing, I cound't believe that I had rejected it so quickly, and I was quite disturbed by the fact that I did. I simply adore this piece with a passion. It contains the coolest writing for brass intruments I've ever heard, and I always wonder how many rehearsals it took to get it right - it must have been about a million.
3. Dmitri Shostakovich - String Quartet No. 8. Another piece I can't live without. I discovered it through some samples on a metal album when I was still a teenager, and it's never gotten tiresome for me. It certainly appeals to my hardcore metal sensibilities, but also to my dark and delicate side. Shostakovich himself descibed its affect on him in this way: "The psuedo-tragedy of this quartet is such that, while I was composing it, the tears just kept streaming down like urine after a half-dozen beers." Wow.
4. John Dowland - Lachrimae. Dowland is my second favorite composer after J.S. Bach. His Lachrimae pavans for viol consort are, in my opinion, one of the first and earliest examples of what would later evolve into the string quartet. The pieces themselves are reflections of Dowland - dark and sublime - ahead of his time. He was truly a romantic 250 years before the romantics.
5. John Dowland - Works for Solo Lute. I can't live on the island without Dowland's works for lute. His fantasias and fancys show plucked string techniques that would not again be realized until the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Again, way ahead of his time and brilliant.
6. Dr. Dre - The Chronic. A brilliant and landmark album, and completely American. This album is uncompromising, and completely real, depicting a side and a culture of America that most Americans would rather not like to think about. It also pretty much invented theWest Coast style and spawned a new genre of rap. The slow, low and laid-back beats with the contrasting poly-rhythmic vocal fascinates me every time, and makes me proud that I come from the same musical culture that produced it.
7. Meshuggah - Nothing. No one in the realm of popular music is doing more interesting or complex things, rhythmically speaking than Meshuggah. Starting within a death-metal framework, they push their music way out of the confines of that genre and into a world of its own. They are constantly evolving and pushing themselves to new heights, never getting complacent - just like any great artist is compelled to do.
8. John Mayer - Room for Squares. John Mayer is one of the most talented song writers of our time. His lyrics are relevant, and always hit you right where it hurts - no matter who you are. His songs are also brilliantly written and always subtly changing right under your nose, always following the affect of the words. I think "Room for Squares" is one of the greatest pop albums ever written - yes I said it!
9. Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life. Dude - if you don't know this album, you should be ashamed. Awesome songs, innovative and original. The arrangements themselves are on par with anything Duke Ellington ever did. Even though it's from 1976, it still sounds fresh today, and just about every R&B singer out there today owes their vocal style to Stevie.
10. Perotin - Sacred Vocal Works. I was blown away when I heard this for the first time. It just sounded like nothing I had ever heard before, and this performance by the Hilliard Ensemble is absolutely incredible - it moves my soul. Perotin's works have also had a profound effect on my own music. Amazing, and transcendent work.