83 days

Let’s see: since Friday, an administrative staff meeting for the country’s premier gifted summer experience; author signing at the new hotspot in Senoia; dinner for eight; dress rehearsal and performance of Fauré’s Requiem; and today, taking the herb garden back down to the dirt. But no symphony.

I’ve been listening to it, but I haven’t had blocks of time to sit down and do anything with it. And I’ve been in one of those phases where it’s not sounding very good to me. It’s not light and celebratory in any of its sections, and it needs to be. It doesn’t sound organically inevitable in its development, and it needs to. It’s too thick, too heavy, where it should be transparent.

One of my problems is my increasing awareness of how badly Finale is translating the sound. I went back to listen to some of William Blake’s Inn, and it doesn’t sound bad at all. It’s almost as if I need to stop using Finale 2008 and go back to 2006.

I don’t know. I’ll get back to the music tomorrow night.

3 thoughts on “83 days

  1. Actually, as of tonight, it has two: Redneck Gourmet, and Maguire’s, a bar. And I don’t think you would recognize the rest of the street, either. It’s been gentrified.

  2. Your frustration with your “surrogate” is grinding you down. Take a break and compose something for the thing itself, something that can be played either by a person or a machine the way you want it played. For instance, write an organ piece and e-mail it to an organist of your acquaintance. Arrange a read through over cocktails.

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