Anxiety

I know, I haven’t written in over a week. It’s not as if I’ve been doing nothing. Oh, wait, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Never mind.

Well, actually, I have been doing a little. We had the Barnes & Noble thing, of course, and that got me thinking/worrying about exactly where William Blake’s Inn is. Of course, the short answer is nowhere. No one in our fair city is in the least bit interested in being the chair of the WBOC.

Just to make sure, though, I personally contacted one of the best candidates for said chairmanship, who very promptly turned me down (not without praising the work and me without stint.) That’s it, folks. William Blake’s Inn will not have its premiere in Newnan.

I will report on this fact to the Arts Commission on Wednesday, and then I will drop in the mail proposals to various performing organizations around this country.

That’s what I’ve been working on this weekend: cover letters, synopses, printouts of vocal scores, etc., all aimed at specific groups for whom the Inn would be a good fit. After I get a CD label designed and printed, and the CDs burned, everything’s ready to go in the mail.

It is very scary how easy this is. I was done with the Atlanta Symphony and the Center for Puppetry Arts long before lunch yesterday morning. Lookingglass Theater in Chicago took a little longer this morning, because they have very specific things they’re looking for and don’t want a copy of the piece itself, just a synopsis.

But I could really have everything in the mail by tomorrow afternoon. Whoosh, as my email program would say.

And that’s scary. I don’t know why, because it’s not as if I’m using these groups to validate the piece. I know it’s good, and I know it would be a good fit for any of them. If they reject it, as is almost certain, it’s not going to crush my spirits.

I guess it’s because I know by putting the Inn out there, I allow myself to hope that it might find a home. Looking back over the Lacuna workshop blogposts, I was struck by how hopeful we sounded. We were certain that people were working to pull together to form the WBOC. This was going to be a wonderful opportunity for all of us. This time, it would be totally different than the way the arts in Newnan have been dealt with in the past.

Only, of course, it wasn’t. Everyone applauded politely then turned away. Everyone loved the music, everyone thought our staging was cool, no one wanted to work with us. It was that simple, and we should have seen it coming. Well, I should have seen it coming. That’s all I ever saw in the 25+ years I was involved in active arts production in this city: oohs and aahs and brief spurts of interest — can we even count the number of “arts councils” that have been formed here? — but no sustained, organized support. Why I thought it would be different this time, I have no idea.

So dropping William Blake’s Inn into the mail to find its fortune elsewheres is very scary, because I have to commit to hope again. Not to do so would be even more exhausting.

Archaeology

Recently I took a look around my study and decided that after three years of having part of my study floor clogged with the stuff from my office at the Presbyterian church, it was time to stash it. I bought a big old plastic tub and tonight I began sorting.

What seemed to take up piles and piles on the floor, plus a great big box, collapsed rather neatly into a few small piles in the tub. I took the precaution of creating a word processing document (searchable via my laptop’s indexing) which lets me know what I’ve stuck in there.

Some surprises as I worked through the piles, like the mantel clock which was a gift from the cast of Lying In State, the world premiere comedy we did back in 1998, nearly ten years ago, folks! That will go to school with me.

I also found a great many of the original scores for all my early stuff, all the One Fish Two Fish pieces, plus the Symphony for Band in C minor. And there were all my notebooks.

Back in the day, before the computer would allow me to write my music, and play it back, I had to do it all by hand. Shockingly primitive, I know. But music paper was hard to come by, and so whenever I came across notebooks, I’d buy all I could and hoard them. Most of these notebooks are mostly empty, with various projects grouped here and there in them: Christmas Carol, some anthems, a snatch of William Blake here and there.

After getting the tub loaded, I went through all these notebooks, even the juvenilia from the early 70s, and played through everything in them. Most of it was sketches for stuff that either worked out and got used, or was terrible and should have been erased, but there were some bits and pieces which were nice enough to salvage for new projects. I found some lyrics (for what, I have no idea) that will be used in Day in the Moonlight, and I found more than few fragments of music that will show up either in one symphony or another or in the Stars on Snow album. I even found some themes from an early idea for a symphony that actually still resonate.

So it was not exactly what you’d call a productive evening, but it was fun and a little bizarre to dig back through my early, mostly incompetent self. I had some good ideas, but I was clearly clueless about how to develop most them. Although I will say I found one or two babysteps that showed I had a clear understanding of structure even then.

Anyway, I’ll be putting all those fragments into Finale files so I can stash them away for future pilfering.

In other news, Lacuna sang the complete Visit to William Blake’s Inn last night as the special guests of Barnes & Noble. It is most likely the last time Newnan will hear the piece. Unless someone prominent steps up in the next two weeks to be in charge of the Organizing Committee, I’m going to start shopping it around to other places.

The performance was very nice indeed, give or take one or two King of Cats solos being fluffled. I’ll miss working with the chorus.

Tale of the Tailor

I’ve been wrestling with the new version of Finale all week, trying to get it to work as expected and/or advertised, so that I could get Blake Tells the Tiger the Tale of the Tailor orchestrated for this Tuesday night thing at Barnes & Noble.

We were asked to sing A Visit to William Blake’s Inn at the opening party for the new Barnes & Noble, so I said yes, and my intrepid octet has been working very hard to re-polish the work. I decided it would be as good a time as any to go ahead and orchestrate one of the two remaining pieces.

However, I didn’t count on the new Finale being such an incredibly opaque piece of software. I will not bore you with all the details, but it has been right up there with working on an actual Windows computer. I have three different Garritan libraries, and none of them were doing what they should be doing, in this case allowing me to notate the strings as playing pizzicato, and they actually do that in playback. Hadn’t been a problem before, but now it was. No combination of libraries or instruments worked. I was halfway through the piece when I decided I had to do something.

I decided that it must have something to do with opening a piece done in Finale 2007, the piano score (which actually had originally been done in Finale 2006) and copying melodic lines over to the orchestral arrangement. So I started a brand new file, which seemed to make the program happy. That was this morning. It took me all morning just to get back to the halfway point, just putting in the music I had already done.

Late in the afternoon, I tackled it again, and shortly before I had to pack up and go to our final rehearsal, I finished it. It’s clunky in more than a few spots, but at least it will work for Tuesday. Parts of it are already nice, but on the whole, I don’t feel I have as much control over the sound as I did with the Finale 2007 GPO. I’m sure the company would tell me that I have a lot more control, but what I’ve found over the years is that having all that control usually means that you are forced to dig deeper into the program’s innards to gain it.

At any rate, here it is.

What now?

It’s always an odd feeling to finish a piece, especially when it has to go in the mail, because then it really is finished. I had sketched out another ending to “Sir Christémas” on Thursday night because I wasn’t exactly happy/sure about the ending you’ve all heard. At that point, I couldn’t even hear the difference (although they were totally different in structure), so I invited an untrained but opinionated audience (Ginny) to tell me which one she preferred. She liked the original, so into the mail it went.

So no going back, at least in terms of the VocalEssence competition. If When I don’t win, then I can turn around and tinker with it all I want, of course.

What now? It was ironic that on Thursday, an email arrived from the American Composers Forum alerting me to all the competitions out there. There’s one from Salem College in Winston-Salem for harpsichord music, due November 1. You can write either a solo piece or duet, any instrument; I’m thinking trombone. There’s a contest for the Sybarite Chamber Players in NY (gotta like the sound of that group), a string quintet. That’s due November 30. And then there’s the Millenium Chamber Players in Chicago, up to eight players to be drawn from a string quintet, wind quintet, trombone, percussion, and piano. That one is due November 15. Hm. What to do?

I guess I could do all of them, on two week cycles. That would be fun to read about, wouldn’t it? Three major works in a month and a half? (They’re all supposed be at least 10 minutes long.) I could cheat and start to work on them now, of course. There’s always Maila’s request for something for her, David, and Joren, too, and the symphony. Don’t want to wait too long on that one, do I?

It also has occurred to me that I might actually officially orchestrate Blake Tells the Tiger the Tale of the Tailor for the September 18 performance. That might be a good way to play with the new Finale 2008, which now has choral sounds with the Garritan Personal Orchestra! (You will have noticed that I didn’t install this thing in the middle of “Sir Christémas.”)

What’s that, Mike? Oh, you’re back from Africa and want to know what progress I’ve made on Day in the Moonlight? Selfish bastard.

Sir Christémas: last chance

I think I’m done. I had about an hour this afternoon between getting home and having to come back to school for open house, and I just hacked out the ending. I resisted doing a flat da capo ending, but whatever I tried that was new and different just sounded lame. Finally I just gave in to centuries of tradition: end the thing the way you began it. I threw in some senseless interesting modulations every half measure just to make it sound a little different, and I think it’s done.

Last chance to kibbitz: PDF score and mp3 for your perusal. Tomorrow morning it goes in the mail.

Sir Christémas: nearly done

So close, so close! I worked hard tonight, cutting and pasting, listening for that inner camera (how do you like them synaesthetic metaphors?) that would show me what the final piece should sound/look like.

I think I’m done except for the ending, and I know what it should be. It’s just late now and I think I’m going to deal with that tomorrow night. That way it’s still very, very shiny when I pop it in the mail on Friday morning.

If you like, here are the PDF score and the mp3. (The mp3 is pretty big, so be forewarned.)

It’s not too shabby, and it’s actually fun to sing. I can hear a lot of subtleties that the computer is just not getting but that a chorus and celestist would, like in the third verse, which should be as gentle as possible and probably slower than I have it marked.

There are a lot of blank measures at the end, so a lot of dead air at the end of the mp3. I’m not fixing it tonight.

Sir Christémas, et al.

It’s early Sunday morning, and I’ve been slogging away at Sir Christémas, always mindful that it’s got to be in the mail on Friday. I’m in that phase where it’s just dreck. I’ve posited a “Sing Nowell” interlude between the verses, but right now it’s just clunky and bad. I hate this.

Part of the problem, of course, is that I have no clear idea of the piece in my head. I couldn’t transcribe it even if I were capable of such a thing, because it’s not there. I’m just machete-ing my way through the randomness of the universe, hoping to hack out a path that makes sense. Right now it doesn’t.

In other news, it’s time to release Grayson into the wild again. Last year, you may recall, it was quite traumatic as we took him up to Guilford and left him. For us, of course; he was quite pleased with his new habitat and missed only his cat.

I’m a little better this time. I’m not freaking over what I will do without him. This year, all my angst is over whether or not he can survive auf Deutsch, since after lunch we’ll drive to Hartsfield-Jackson International and put him on a plane to Munich. For the semester. Ach du lieber. Ich beunruhige mich daß er hat der Sprache zur Genüge nicht gelernt.

I’ve given him a map of Hofvonstein and asked that if he can he go to our capital of Waldkirchen and take a couple of pictures. I’d love some pictures of Löwenhof (which the Austrians apparently call Bad Leonfeld), but I think it probably looked better when Karl Magnus was alive.

Sir Christémas: first verse

Continuing my organic exploration of the text of my selected carol, “Sir Christémas,” I have arrived at the end of the first stanza. I think.

I decided that the opening, though delightful, had about reached the limit of human tolerance for tinkly triplets. Dotted quarters, offset with syncopated figures in the bass, were called for, I thought. That led naturally into a slow setting of the first line of the first verse, “I am here, Sir Christ(é)mas,” followed by quiet little “trumpet calls” on the next line, “Welcome, my lord, Sir Christ(é)mas!” Not bad at all.

Actually, I had blocked out the melody in the basses of the first line last night, but when I listened to it tonight it sounded like a natural extension, a response, to the intro, and it needed to sound like an opening of a stanza so that when I repeated it, the audience would recognize it as a signpost, as it were. I changed it to more strong sound.

I double-checked the next three verses to see if my structure could be applied to the first two lines of those and still make musicosyntactical sense. I think it can. With a moderate amount of force.

The last line of the trio I thought needed something a little crescendo-y, so I took that ascending chromatic line at the end of the intro and used that. I’m not sure about it, but it’s a place holder at least.

My plan at this point is break into a pointillistic “Nowel, Nowel!” after each verse, modifying each with different chromatic lenses and with different coloristic strategies in the celesta. Wow, that actually sounds like I know what I’m talking about. Wait, I do know what I’m talking about. Wow, that actually sounds like I could intentionally effect that about which I know I’m talking. Or something.

::sigh:: Just listen.

Sir Christémas: a little more

I’ve hammered out the rest of the little prologue: “Who is there who singeth so, Nowel?” That’s not as involved as it sounds, since it’s only two more measures. Still, in a very organic kind of way, I’m letting the music evolve. I have that tinkling opening motive and the descending thirds of the chorus to play with now, so that’s something, and I’ve added an upward run through all kinds of chromaticism.

Next, like tomorrow night, I have to work on a body for the thing: what are the outlines of the verse? It’s got to be solid enough to bear repeating for the four verses, and I’d like it to be recognizable, i.e., so that if I interpolate the “Nowel” sequence in between, the audience will hear it anew when it returns. Sounds like I’m working towards a rondo form here.

I found an NPR broadcast of the 2003 winners. Very pretty, and very typically “choral,” with all kinds of mellow blendings and suspensions. I’m sure we’ll hear similar kinds of things this year. I’m betting lots of starry music, and lots of lullabyes, so maybe mine will stand out as all kinds of different.

Sir Christémas: so far, so good

I had pulled together several texts last night which I found on The Hymns and Carols of Christmas, a pretty exhaustive site.

If you’d like to second guess me (other than the hundreds I didn’t even look at), here’s a list:

I really liked the Yule Days one, a kind of out-of-left-field version of “Twelve Days of Christmas.” (Thank you, Scotland.) But the accompaniment for this year’s competition is, as I mentioned yesterday, a celesta, very dainty and very quiet. I’ll set “Yule Days” for a more raucous accompaniment.

So which one did I pick? “Sir Christmas,” which is a little odd, since I think the text also suggests a more raucous setting. I know that we did one at Newnan Presbyterian that was a whole lot of fun and very hard on the choir and organist both.

Still, I’ve made a good start. I began by opening “Ginny’s Valentine,” a piece I did for Ginny one year when I forgot to do anything else, and assigning the celesta to it. Limited range, the celesta, especially in the Garritan Personal Orchestra version. I guess they only did the four-octave instrument, because it doesn’t have the range indicated by Anatomy of the Orchestra. The SoftSynth version, of course, has no range limits at all, since it’s synthesized and not sampled like the GPO. Also, if you will recall, SoftSynth has choral sounds while GPO does not, although the new Finale, arriving next week, is supposed to include new GPO choral sounds.

After I played around with getting a feel for the instrument, I opened up a new piece and just began playing with notes.

And here’s the first six measures for you to listen to. Just playing, and a long way to go with a non-metrical text, especially in a week and a half, but a good start.