The Lyles Scale of Compositional Agony

My good friend and mentor Dianne Mize asked in a recent letter—yes, I write letters; I’m kind of addicted to it—how hard it was to write the Cello Sonata No. 1, and I joked that on the Lyles Scale of Compositional Agony it was about a 7.  (That reminds me that I actually have to post that letter…)

Hm, I says to myself, Self, that would be an amusing blog post.

And so here it is, my task avoidance of the day.  (Sorry, John Tibbetts II, I really meant to work on your song today…)

[Note: in my letter, the ‘7’ was on a 10-point ascending scale.  On the Revised Lyles Scale of Compositional Agony, composing the Cello Sonata would have been been a 5.]

Lyles Scale of Compositional Agony

1NirvanaYou regain consciousness to find that the piece is done. Angels are singing and small woodland creatures frolic about you adoringly.
2BlissYour work flows from your mind exactly as you imagined it, and you have to work fast to capture all the ideas that keep coming. You don‘t even need that second cup of coffee.
3GroovingYour ideas come easily and allow themselves to be wrangled into the piece without too much of a struggle. Your lovely wife thinks it‘s pretty. Take a break—you‘ve earned it!
4HumanMeh. You‘ve got a piece to write, and it takes a while, but it finally all fits together and is good. You have that second cup of coffee and think about working on a new piece. Soon. Ish. Probably.
5SludgeThe work won‘t come at first, but after beating yourself with a sledgehammer, you finally get something on the page. Maybe it will look better after you ignore it for a few days. Perhaps a trip to the Amazon would help. Eventually you assemble what crap you‘ve come up with into something vaguely resembling a piece of music.
6HellIdeas will not come. You resort to inserting notes randomly onto the screen, hoping that one or two of them will stick. You consider rending your flesh for inspiration. What should have been a simple transition becomes a life-and-death struggle with Satan. You do your taxes just to avoid working on the piece.
7Harsh RealityNo ideas come, and what appears on your paper FELLATES HUGE MAMMALIAN GENITALIA. You are revealed to the world as a complete fraud, and on YouTube people use your past accomplishments to symbolize pathetic self-delusion. Small woodland creatures mock you. You abandon your life‘s work, and the universe breathes a sigh of relief.

You may make suggestions for additions and revisions in comments.

Horsefly Rag, part 2

OK, we’re going to pretend this piece is finished.  For all that I know, it is: it’s 1:45 long, and it has a great ending.  So what if the middle is crap?

I really do like the ending.  It’s subtly different/improved from the original version I posted Monday, including some happy accidents.  I love happy accidents.  They make it sound as if I’m wildly inventive when really it was a slip of the keyboard.

Yes, it could probably use another 20-30 seconds after the surprise in the middle.  For the time being, I need to follow Frank Gehry’s advice to his design teams: “Let’s let that sit there for awhile and annoy us.”

Horsefly Rag, as of 04/09/2017: score | mp3

Patting myself on my back

I just have to brag a little bit.  As I’ve finished each recent piece from Christmas Carol, I’ve announced it on Facebook with a line from the song.  In every instance, someone chimes in with one of the other lines from the song.

The last time this show was done was in 2002, and people still remember the lyrics to the songs.

I’m pretty pleased by that.

The return of the whinging composer, part 3,082

I’ve been successfully avoiding any actual composition since 2011, when I finished the Cello Sonata, and re-orchestrating Christmas Carol has proven to be an even better task avoidance strategy since it’s work that has to be done but doesn’t involve actually composing.  It’s a good life.

Leave it to a clown to mess it all up.

Mike Funt emailed me last week and demanded a piano piece to which he could make up some kind of clown crap because—are you ready for this?—he was inspired by this drawing at the Los Angeles Museum of Modern Art:

diary_of_a_fly

It’s by Moholy-Nagy.

For reference, he sent me a couple of YouTube videos of George Gershwin playing some of his earlier ragtime pieces.  Make it like that, he said.  But make it yours.  I want to use your music, he said, somehow forgetting that my music is pretty much unGershwinesque.

Clown.

So I thought to myself, well, it could be OK.  It’s not as if it’s a handshake commission to compose a postmodern opera of the Icarus myth, is it, because that would be terrifying, what with having to submit my fraudulent work to real audiences and critics and all.

Ha.

Composing is hard, y’all, and I don’t like it.  I’ve worked all weekend on this thing and it’s still only 45 seconds long.  I keep abandoning stupid crap, and it keeps trying to wander off into Five Easier Pieces territory rather than stick to its ragtime roots.  Part of the problem is trying to think—as I hammer out material—how Mike might use the music and therefore writing stuff that is useful.  But who knows what clowns find useful?  Other than seltzer bottles and red noses, I mean.

I’m already going to miss my self-imposed deadline of finishing it today—trust me, it’s not going to be finished today—and I still have “People Like Us” to re-orchestrate.  Plus the NYTimes crossword puzzle.  And I’m sure I should be out in the labyrinth in the downpour fixing something.  And there’s physical therapy at 1:00, and then I have a meeting at the Boys & Girls Club around the corner about becoming a volunteer there, and there’s no way it’s going to be finished today unless I stop blogging and hammer out another minute of music.  Perhaps I need to write the ending next and then just glue pieces together to get there.

Anyway, I’m about to take a deep breath and post what I’ve got.  I used to do this all the time with music, just revealing my foibles to the world as I hack and slash my way through the thick chaos of the universe, so I’m just going to do it now and let everyone marvel at how very unGershwinesque it is.

It stops abruptly.  Of course.

“Horsefly Rag,” as of 04/07/2014:  mp3

update, 12:10 pm

Ha, take that, you clown.  Here’s the finale, and I think—in order to satisfy my twisted desires—I’m going to make it longer.

“Horsefly Rag” finale, as of 04/07/2017 : mp3

Another secret lust

I was tidying up my study a couple of weeks back—you can actually see the floor!—and uncovered this:

I remember it as if it were yesterday, walking through the bookstore at UGA, and coming across this beautiful, beautiful thing.  IT’S A BOX OF CARDS, YOU GUYS!

It was called Indecks, and what it was was a way to organize your notes on any research topic, and I was engaged in a huge one: an honors thesis on the work of the UGA Period Dance Group.  We performed social dances across five centuries, from Shakespeare’s time to the early 20th century, and none of it was written down or collated.  As chief researcher (and eventual president), that project fell on me.  I also needed, for reasons lost to my memory, an actual thesis/project to fill some requirement in the Honors Program.  (Probably something to do with Lothar Tresp’s time in the German army during WWII.)

The white cards were your note cards:

But what are those little holes, you are asking?  IT WAS MAGIC, YOU GUYS!

You could keep track of notes for up to eight papers, hundreds of sources, nearly a hundred notes per source per paper, and you didn’t have to keep them in any order!

The orange cards were where you wrote down your sources/topics:

Here are mine:

Then, as you completed a card, you would clip the hole(s) for the source on the side and for the topic around the other edges:

And HERE’S THE MAGIC, YOU GUYS:

The box came with two steel rods, which you would insert into the deck and then loosely shake.  Here, I’m looking for the cards involving La Volta, a Renaissance dance, so I’ve inserted the rod into hole #15…

Et voilá!

Out fall the cards on that topic.

AREN’T YOU ALL TINGLY IN YOUR TINGLY BITS??  This was awesome.  I could pull up any combination of cards/topics.  Give me all your Baroque dances, hole #7.  Give me all your adapted choreography for the Classical dances, holes #3 and #8.  Give me all the stuff I found in Allen Dodworth’s Dancing, source hole #5.

::sigh::

Of course, the more astute among you have realized that this is a kind of primordial database, thus beginning my lifelong lust of such things.  I tumbled to arrays early on in Applesoft BASIC and got good enough at using them that I was able to correct the computer instructor at GHP one summer when he was trying to use some other function to keep track of minors registration and the program kept crashing.  I also programmed an overdue books/fines system that all of Coweta County used until the state automated all the media centers.  When Apple Computer released FileMaker Pro, I ate it up and have used it to run everything from NCTC to Newnan Crossing to Newnan Presbyterian choir library to GHP to U.S. Senate Youth Program to Georgia Scholars.  (Pro tip: if you’re ever taking over a program from me, make sure you have a copy of FMP.  Otherwise, you’re borked, darlings, AND YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.)  I scorn anyone who uses a spreadsheet to keep track of such things; you people are lame-o losers.  DATABASES, BITCHES!

And what did I do with all those excruciatingly typed-out cards?

Ninety pages, typed with hand-drawn images, of sixteen of the dances performed by the Period Dance Group, including manners of each period, the original choreography of each dance, and the adapted choreography:

The Compleat Period Dancer was an immediate success—all the grad students wanted copies—and it remains a major resource for me to this day.

Lower on that title page is the date of the submission: June 4, 1974.  Forty years of SEXY SEXY DATABASE FUNTIMES, YOU GUYS!

New cool creativity/process finds

We’ll give ritual a rest today.

I have found a couple of websites that appeal to my inner process nerd.  I will now share them with you.

Kanban

The first website has already had an impact on how I work: http://personalkanban.com.  (Start with their PK 101 link.)

I stumbled across Kanban as a system while using Google Drive over at West Georgia.  There are all kinds of add-on apps, and I found a Kanban one that really helped me get organized with the disparate projects/processes I was working on.

From there, I started looking for more info about Kanban and came across the Personal Kanban site.  This approach was beautiful, and the website so helpful that I bought the author’s book, and that was even better.

I do have a ToDo app on my phone, and that’s useful, but a to-do list is just reminders.  It’s not an organizational tool.  Personal Kanban’s two dicta are organizational: visualize your work, and limit your work-in-progress (WIP).  That’s it.

As I began to settle into my second retirement phase, I wanted to bring the Kanban approach to my work on music, the labyrinth, daily life.  I don’t have a wall to put an actual Kanban board up, so I went looking for laptop versions.  My criteria were simple and ironclad: it had to be dead easy to use, and it had to be instantaneously accessible.

As is so often the case, the simplest solution was DIY.  I found another Mac user’s blog where he talked about using the Mac’s multiple desktops to create a Kanban board on its own desktop.  He simply created a Kanban background and used Apple’s Stickies app to create actual stickies.  I went one better, by tying the Stickies app to the specific desktop and then using an Fkey to trigger/open Stickies.  In other words, I hit F14, and the main desktop slides over to the Kanban desktop:

kanban desktop
Click to enlarge.

Hitting any of the other Fkey shortcuts takes me back to the regular desktop.

You see a couple of my modifications: the HOLDING and DAILY areas.  Personal Kanban calls the HOLDING area the PEN, and it’s those tasks that you can’t move forward on until you get information/decisions/products from someone else.

The DAILY section helps me see if I’m staying on task for longterm projects, like revamping Christmas Carol or blogging or working on the text for the SUN TRUE FIRE oratorio.

I’ve color-coded them just to give myself a sense of those items that are going to be larger/harder to do or that have other issues in getting them done.

I’m not going to go into details, other than to say that I already understand more about what I’m willing to work on and what I keep avoiding.  Read more at the PK website.

Dave Seah’s stuff

I just found this guy today, so I’m still exploring.

Explore with me:

I’m not at all sure that I need another layer of organization, but I really like his LEARN EXPLORE BUILD SHARE mantra, and I figure having tools to go to when I’m stuck or just looking to avoid work is a good thing.  His blog is also interesting reading, laying bare his working processes in dealing with creativity and productivity.

Put your favorite process/organization sites in comments!

Christmas Carol: Trivia

Let’s see what trivia I can dredge up about the songs in Christmas Carol‘s score.

Opening — Listen for that interval of the descending fourth throughout: “Christmas!”

Bah! Humbug! — A perfect example of my early predilection for oddball meters (5/4 in this instance) as well as for waltzes.  Lots of interior rhymes,  just like Sondheim.   Fun for the audience; not so much for Scrooge.

Past’s Arrival — The Ghost of Christmas Past’s theme is simply two tritones, starting on the G/C “Christmas” interval.  Some might think they hear the old Campbell’s soup theme in the “countryside” theme, but they would be imagining things.  I’ll tell you when I’ve stolen something.

Country Dance — Piece of cake to write, given my years of experience with the University of Georgia Period Dance Group.  But getting Finale 2014 to get the repeats right was an ordeal.

A Reason for Laughter — The NCTC Gala in 2002 kicked off my last season as artistic director, and to prepare the audience for my swan song, Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro, we staged the finale of Act II.  The audience was surprised and delighted that they a) understood it; and b) thought it was funny.  But no one thought it was as funny as Caroline Carr and Stan Gentry, who were watching from the wings and suddenly recognized Figaro’s entrance as the opening of this song.  Yes, I had stolen the phrase, figuring no one in Newnan would ever really recognize it.  Oops.  Hoist on my own petard.

That You — It’s like this.  I’d been reading The Unanswered Question, by Leonard Bernstein, and I was struck by a comment he made about Don José’s “Flower Aria” in Bizet’s Carmen: no one phrase really repeats; the song just kind of grows.  So I set out to do something similar.  The result is a song that demands a two-octave range from a soprano, and not the right two octaves.   It can’t keep to the same meter for more than three measures, and the accompaniment always sounded clumsy.  On the plus side, it’s pretty.

Christmas Present Street Scene — This was originally a church choir piece called Gloria in excelsis, never performed, and so I cannibalized it, adding the Christmas Waltz (I am a dab hand with a waltz) and the Chorale for the churchgoers.

The Cratchits’ Prayer — Another cannibalization: this one from Neil Simon’s The Good Doctor, which we had done the year before maybe.  There’s a scene in which two lonely types sit on a park bench and sing “Too Late for Happiness.”  I don’t know whether there was official music to the song, but I just wrote one for us.  Another quirky meter (7/4) cum waltz.  Also: this song was nicknamed the “Gag a Maggot Song” for its shameless bathos.  Also also: because of this song and the later scene at Tiny Tim’s death, anyone playing Bob Cratchit was automatically nominated for the now-defunct NCTC 4-H Award, given to that actor who milked a scene beyond the call of duty.

Fred’s Waltz — Yet another cannibalization: when I was in high school, I wrote an overture to The Madwoman of Chaillot, never performed.  This waltz was one of the tunes.

20 Questions — The opening phrase of this one was inspired—if that’s the phrase my lawyers prefer—by the opening phrase of an Australian composer’s symphony.  Also, kudos to Marc Honea, who as a yout’ took the assignment of writing lyrics for this seriously enough to write a neat little scene.

Ignorance and Want — One of the best things I’ve ever written, this grim mazurka pounds out Dickens’ message in perfect 3/4 time.  The text is lifted directly from the novel.

People Like Us — I thought it would be fun to write a little fugue-like piece where each character enters one after the other and keeps adding to the list of material goods they steal from the dead.  The message underscored Dickens’s, that you can’t take it with you.

Graveyard — A setting of the medieval Dies irae, of course.

Finale — I will state outright that I think this is the best ending to any version of Christmas Carol anywhere.  It starts with Scrooge “waking” in his bedchamber, whirls us through his delirious realization that he’s alive, and then we’re off to the races.  The ending of the novella is very quick, but most adaptations get bogged down in fleshing out each part of the ending in detail.  Here we just romp through the turkey, the Philanthropic Gentlemen, the Cratchits, Fred’s house, and Bob Cratchit’s raise, all to the giddy scherzo of “Hey, boy, what day is today?”, woven throughout with the Christmas Waltz, and ending with the reprise of “A Reason for Laughter.”  Done, and done—thunderous applause.

The Return of A Christmas Carol

In 1980, the members of the Newnan Community Theatre Company prevailed upon me to set Charles Dickens’ classic A Christmas Carol to music. Their thinking was that just as every ballet company in the world did The Nutcracker every holiday season, most theatre companies did Christmas Carol, and with similar financial objectives.  They were not wrong.

I set about cannibalizing older pieces and writing new ones, and in a couple of months I had it all pieced together.  It was, as expected, a huge hit, and we did it every year for a number of years.  In fact, after the Newnan City Council effectively shut us out of the Municipal Auditorium and we had no home, it was the cancellation of Christmas Carol in 1983 that spurred the movement that got us the old Manget-Brannon building as a permanent facility.

Eventually we tired of the same piece every year (although audiences never seemed to), and we began alternating with other holiday offerings.  It was last presented in 2001; the last time I directed it was 1992.

When Newnan Theatre Company (same group as NCTC, just a different name) expressed an interest in reviving a couple of years ago, I discovered that I had none of the sequencer files on my computer, nor any of the MIDI files.  It was too late in the year (plus it was my first year  as GHP director, I think) for me to reconstruct the whole thing.  When the topic came up again recently, I was ready, and so I am in the middle of re-orchestrating all 18 pieces, plus reinventing the overture, which was never written down on paper at all.

When I began seriously setting about the task, I was shocked to find how close I had come to losing the whole show: I had only the original, handwritten piano score plus a few vocal pages to go by, and these were scattered across several notebooks and files.  I had nothing resembling the full orchestration that I had developed in the sequencer.  It was all going to be from scratch.

That’s OK.  I want to start over with a live ensemble, and so I’ve been working with a piano, a synthesizer keyboard, a flute, a clarinet, a cello, a glockenspiel, and chimes.  That should be enough.

I’m now two months into the project and am halfway finished, although the “Finale” is a monster by itself.  So far, so good, although Belle’s song, “That You,” set me back two weeks because I had to seriously rethink the harmonization and accompaniment.  The melody was always fine, but everything else was clunky.  It’s better now, but not without a lot of struggle on my part.

Part of the struggle has been dealing with Finale 2014’s idiosyncrasies, including a recent upgrade that was supposed to fix a serious problem and instead reinstated it.  (I ended up downgrading to the first version of Finale 2014, something I’ve never had to do before.) And then the USB extension cable connecting my keyboard to the computer went bad without warning, etc., etc.

I’ve also procrastinated by updating nearly every other piece of music I’ve ever written from whatever version of Finale it was originally created in (as early as 2003 in some cases!) to 2014.  Worth it, but hardly productive.  (Check out William Blake’s Inn in its new settings.)

So today I hammered out “That You” and should be rolling straight through the rest of the show.  If I keep at it, I should be done by the end of April.

Check it out over to the left under My Music.

American Crafts

I went to the American Craft Council Show this weekend in search of a bowl for the west point of the labyrinth.

I don’t have a photo of the bowl I had there; it was glass, I left it face up during the Great Freeze, and it broke:

It was really just a stopgap; I have never really found just the right thing to be a focus for west point meditations, the element of the West being water.

But I figured if I could find a bowl anywhere, it would be at the American Craft Council Show.

Indeed, right off the bat:

This is Wisconsin limestone, made by Brooks Barrow of Montgomery.  Yes, I asked if it would survive as an outdoor piece, and he assured me that it would.  I will have photos of the installation after it stops raining and I get out into the back yard.  I think it’s going to be a powerful station for meditation.

Also for the labyrinth, an 18″ elk-hide drum:

This is from the same artisan who made my flute, Guillermo Martinez.

Here’s a fun thing, both for the labyrinth and the bar:

A quirky little tumbler/shot glass, by Jenny Mendes. She had several dozen of these, each incredibly different, each with two faces.

I also got a couple of things not for the labyrinth.

This is a light switch plate by Kevin Loughran.  It’s going by the back door, so in that sense it is for the labyrinth.  For a certain amount of money, we could have replaced every light switch and outlet plate in the house.  (Notice that we also bought the switches…)

And finally:

Aren’t these pretty?  They’re by Gali Chehirian,  handpainted in the verre églomisé process.

The whole show was impressive, much moreso than last year, and I had a great time talking to the artists about their materials and their processes. All of them were super nice and fun to talk to.  Next year, go and see for yourself—but save your pennies: you don’t want to experience leaving something beautiful behind!

And that’s how my weekend went.  Tomorrow, we’ll dive back into Burning Man theory and practice.

Art

No Burning Man today—instead, we travel.  We’ll start out at the High Museum, mainly because we are members but haven’t been in a while.  Then we’ll settle in at the Embassy Suites up at Cobb Galleria for the weekend so that we can take in the American Craft Council show in a leisurely manner.

This is the third year we’ve done the show, and it’s always mindblowing.  Those who have been around this blog for a while will remember my purchase of the large bell for the labyrinth (and its stand when I realized I didn’t have anything in the back yard from which I could safely hang the thing) and of the small sculpture in our living room, Traveling Together.

Last year, I bought a gorgeous Native American flute:

Lovely deep tone, but very difficult to play since the finger holes are in a straight line and not curved ergonomically.

Otherwise, last year, we were a little disappointed to find that the jewelers had proliferated at the expense of other, more interesting stuff.  I bought an earrings for me and a bracelet for my lovely first wife, but there was no art piece that demanded to be purchased.

I’ll have a full report tomorrow.