Phoenix, 2/25/10

I have lost my mind.

Since the atonal screeching of the first third of the piece was starting to get to me, I thought I would go work on the end, which I intend to have a gentler, more puzzling tone.

Well, it is that.

It is very reminiscent of one of my really great masterpieces that has never seen the light of day, the last number in the aborted One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish[1] , which I later used as the extended coda for a bizarre and demanding Alleluia. Only that piece had the sixteenth notes in the accompaniment and all the voices had to do was to chime in gently with “Now we go to sleep” and ending with “From there to here/From here to there/Funny things/Are everywhere.”

This is a bit different.

Score [pdf]. Sound [mp3].[2]

[1] Fans of my music will fondly recall “Clark” from that lost work.

[2] Those who are paying attention to the file names will notice that this is phoenixwatersketch2. Yes, there was a first attempt, a much more singable thing. I like this a lot better.

Phoenix, 2/23/10

I have set myself the task of composing an a cappella SATB piece by Saturday in order to enter into a competition the deadline of which is Monday. That means I have to have it finished by Saturday so I can polish it by Sunday and pop it in the post first thing Monday morning to have it postmarked March 1.

(I’m also submitting the SATB arrangement of “Sonnet 18” to the Yale Glee Club Emerging Composers Competition , that goes in the mail tomorrow.)

Anyway, I asked my fellow Lichtenbergians to suggest a text yesterday. Lots of good responses from them, of course. I really really liked Mike’s suggestion of Edward Lear, and was set to compose “The Dong with the Luminous Nose” or “The Jumblies.” Ironically, in searching my hard drive for the text to “The Jumblies,” I came across a list I had started back in 2008 of my Lichtenbergian goals, and for 2008, one of them was to set “The Jumblies.”

I began thinking of textures for “The Dong” and had given quite a bit of thought to it, using the voices as orchestral accompaniment along with the text, but I think it’s too long. The piece has to be 4—8 minutes long, and I was having to cut sections before I even began. I wasn’t sure I could get it all done by Saturday. It’s not strophic; Lear wallows in the verse without regard to regularity, so I wouldn’t be able to cheat by repeating verses like I did with “Blake Tells the Tiger the Tale of the Tailor.”

Fortunately, one of Marc’s texts was equally tempting, and a great deal shorter if, naturally, a lot more opaque:

I don’t want to be a phoenix.
I want to be something learning to walk
Like the corpse at a funereal dance.
I want to learn the rainbow’s backstroke.
I want release from restraint.

What to do?

The sky scares me.
Graceless hands reach out of the clouds.
Are these those clouds of unknowing
The books talked about?
Am I crossing into wonder?

What to do?

I feel so helpless.
All the familiar doctors
Touching the familiar folds
And I quake in the same cold ways.

Am I made of water? Why?

What to do, indeed?

Here’s my first stab, score [pdf] and sound [mp3]. It’s only the first phrase. I’m thinking of marking the opening wail Keening, because that’s what Marc would do.

At the moment, I have a vague plan. The first stanza will be fairly knotted, as you’ve heard, with a little loosening at “I want release…” but knotting back up with “What to do?” The second stanza will, despite itself, begin to cross into wonder. The second “What to do?” will be unable maintain its confident despair. The last stanza will be almost resigned to its loss of nihilism. I’m almost certain that’s not what Marc intended.

Thinking in a cappella is very hard for me.

What to do…

Well, I’m back, sitting in the labyrinth on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. I have nothing pressing on my agenda, so that means I have tons I could be doing:

  • Finish the northwest corner of the bamboo fencing: that’s where the now-dead tree was in the way of the fencers, so they just plunked down a post, then spanned over to the wooden fence with chainlink. Very ugly.
  • Sketch. I haven’t done so in weeks, and the ELP calls.
  • Actually try to get the grass seed into the dirt in the labyrinth. I’m leery of doing the raking thing, because it seems to me that it would rip up the roots of the grass that’s already there.
  • Work on a couple of blogposts, including the most recent Lichtenbergian assignment.
  • Read Twyla Tharp’s The Collaborative Habit: life lessons for working together
  • Read more of Little, Big, one of the most amazing books I’ve read recently.
  • Rework the lighting fixture at the southpoint of the labyrinth from copper wire mesh to solid copper.
  • Write a charming letter to the editor of the Times-Herald, explaining to sports writer Tommy Camp why his tongue-in-cheek take on curling was full of it.
  • Just sit here in the sun and my new Utilikilt.

update: Just so you know, I mostly sat there in the sun in my kilt. I read The Collaborative Habit but found it not very inspiring, mostly because I have covered all those bases with Lacuna Group. I wrote a very charming letter indeed to the Times-Herald. They should print it.

Composition competitions, redux

I got the American Composers Forum newsletter yesterday and there on the front page was an article by Eric Whitacre, “Advice for the Emerging Composer: Competitions.”

Eric Whitacre, for those who do not know, is one of the major cool kids of contemporary choral music. His blog is here. Highly readable.

Anyway, he outlines some benefits for emerging composers to enter all these competitions. The first is exposure, which makes sense. Even if you don’t win, the judges will have seen your work. He says several times judges have contacted him to see if they could program his work that didn’t win the competition.

Second, he says, you’ll finish the piece. I’m a Lichtenbergian. ‘Nuff said.

Third, and I will quote him directly here:

In the last 18 years I’ve probably entered a hundred competitions and I have never won anything. Nothing. I lost the ASCAP Young Composers award three times (in three different years I entered “When David Heard,” “Lux Aurumque,” and “Cloudburst,” lost with all three.

And more of the same. Incredible. “Lux Aurumque,” sung here at a midnight mass in London. Didn’t win. His most recent post talks about getting a letter from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, rejecting his application for an award they had invited him to apply for.

He says not winning is a good thing. It helps make you stronger, if you’re smart, because it reinforces your sense of your own worth. Your piece should have won, dammit, because it was good, and you know that. It’s what keeps you writing more.

All in all, a timely and enjoyable article. And now I have yet another blog to keep up with.

AFO sketches, 2/12/10

Yes, I said “sketches.”

First of all, I took Marc Honea’s “Vibes” piece, which I will let him explain in comments, and which sounds like this [mp3]. He sent me a MIDI version of that, which I sucked up into Finale 2010, creating a score, after much mucking about, that looks this [pdf].

My only goal today was to slam some of those notes into a Finale file that would start playing with the orchestration to see if would even work as a string piece. My suspicion is that it’s always going to sound better and cooler in the computer version. However, here’s where I’m stopping for the day: vibes sketch 2/12/10 [mp3]. Four measures of bass vamping, then the first four measures minus the top notes, then the same four measures with the top notes added back in.

I couldn’t resist the glockenspiel.

About this time, as I took a break for coffee, it started to snow. I went out on the back deck and watched it begin to come down. Why not a piece called “The Labyrinth in Snow”?

Here’s what I’ve plopped down. It’s got some nice bits, but it’s still just noodling. Labyrinth sketch 2/12/10 [mp3]. The violin accompaniment will continue under the cello solo, probably quiet little triplets. In addition to the piano, there will be a solo violin as well. The three soloists will wind in and out over increasing flurries from the rest of the strings. I think.

And just so you can share in it, here’s the labyrinth. In snow.

Update, 5:14 pm:

Here’s the most recent version, a little extended. I’m thinking about changing the opening to be a lighter, more mysterious, trill-y kind of thing. Labyrinth 2/12.b [mp3]

Composition competitions, part 2

I went through all the forms and rules and regs last night to match up deadlines and what I might have on hand already to submit to each one.

I had to ditch the Utah Arts Festival right off the bat. They expected a recording of the work you’re submitting as an example of your work, no MIDI realizations permitted. In other words, you either have had performances of your work already or you have access to musicians. Oh well.

The Yale Glee Club, deadline March 1, is getting “Sonnet 18.” (They have a prize of $1500 + travel expenses to the premiere.)

The Meistersingers (Huntington Beach, CA) needs an a cappella piece. I’ll have to write one, and since it’s due March 1, I bet this one doesn’t get done. ($1000 prize, plus performances and recording.)

The University of Illinois School of Music has the Salvatore Martirano Memorial Composition Award, $1000 first place. They’re going to get the quartet/bassoon piece I did last summer. Since their deadline is not until March 15, I’m going to try to write two more movements for that. Maybe.

The Composers Conference and Chamber Music Center at Wellesley College (Wayland, MA) is also getting the quartet/bassoon piece, also due March 15. This one is an actual conference you get to attend and work with older/wiser composers and hear your work worked on. Or something. The call for scores is pretty fuzzy. It looks as if they’re asking for scores of anything you’ve written for judging purposes, and then they’ll pick ten people to come play at this conference. So they may also get “Milky Way” and the “Epilogue,” because those are pretty.

The 1st International Chorale Composition Competition, from the Monteverdi Choral (Cles, Trento, Italy) wants either a setting of “The 33rd Song” from the Divine Comedy for SSATBB chorus, a cappella, or a children’s choir piece, also a cappella, any text. (Prize is $1000 + publication.) Since the Dante is 39 lines of Italian, I’m not going there. Anyone want to write me a text for the children’s piece? Deadline is not until March 31.

The New York Virtuoso Singers want either a cappella or piano accompaniment. Deadline is April 10. They’ll get whatever I write for Meistersingers, which means they may get nothing. Prizes include nominal sums + performance in NYC + possible publication by Schirmer.

And finally, the National Opera Association’s Chamber Opera thing, deadline May 1. They’re getting William Blake’s Inn, and it’s up to them to decide it’s not an opera. Of course, if they decide it is, then I have to rescore the whole damned thing for 20 players. Somehow I am little concerned about that.

Fanfares? If I get inspired by all the rest of this, I might knock one out.

All righty, off to work on none of the above: I’m going to try fiddling with Marc’s Vibes piece.

Composition competitions

The American Composers Forum website is broken, apparently, so rather than having all the opportunities just listed on the site, they sent out the entire list via email, which is what they used to do.

Since my flameout with the symphony, I haven’t really bothered looking at all the various competitions and calls for scores that flooded my inbox every month. Since I wasn’t writing anything, what was the point? Now, however, the AFO commission has gotten me moving, albeit slugglishly, so I printed out the list.

First of all, what’s this obsession with younger composers? About a third of the competitions were for composers under the age of 30 or 40. Screw them. I like the Yale Glee Club approach: “Composers should be in the early stages of their musical careers.” That’s me, right? I’ve had nothing published and precious little performed. If I’m not emerging, I don’t know the meaning of the word.

These are all opportunities with deadlines in the next six weeks, so I’m going to be submitting stuff I’ve already written for the most part. Just this morning I arranged my Sonnet 18, originally for men’s chorus, and on YouTube here, for full SATB. That should fit the bill for most competitions: unpublished, and unperformed in this arrangement.

But I’m also looking at several orchestral/chamber opportunities. I don’t know exactly what I’ll do for those. There’s always the orchestral arrangement of “Milky Way” that I did for last summer’s abortive Chinese event, but that wouldn’t be small enough for a chamber competition. I haven’t examined all of those carefully yet, so I may have to chuck some of them.

There’s the National Opera Association’s chamber opera competition, and for that I think I’m going to submit William Blake’s Inn. Why not? What’s the worst they can do to me? Blackball me?

There are two wind ensembles who are both celebrating their anniversaries with a call for fanfares. That could be a lot of fun to work on, although I’m not very comfortable with the band sound.

At any rate, that’s where I am, compositionally-speaking-wise, at the moment.

Getting into GHP

This past Saturday I had the pleasure of interviewing candidates for GHP’s strings program. If my top candidates play as well as they think, Michael Giel will have a very good summer indeed.

At the end of the lunch break, I slipped over to Pebblebrook’s theatre, where art students were undergoing their interviews on the stage. Each student had spread out the requisite number and types of pieces on the stage floor, and the interviewers were walking around quizzing them about their work.

I realized with a small shock that I underwent that same process forty years ago.

Forty years ago.

Forty years ago, I walked into a room with my portfolio, spread it out over a couple of chairs, and was interviewed by two men. I remember not being able to answer one question about the type of drawing one of my pieces was, the answer was “contour drawing”, and I remember that the men were very entertained by my answers in general.

I remember some of the pieces in that portfolio, and I cannot believe that I made it into the Governor’s Honors Program as a visual arts major. I was not that good. However, at the time, all students had to take the Ohio Psychological, essentially an IQ test, and while academic majors had to score at least in the 90th percentile, fine arts majors could get away with the 70th. I scored something like 98, so I’m sure that tipped the balance in my favor.

On the other hand, perhaps my interviewers understood that giftedness is potential, not achievement, and they saw in my work a student who had the potential to achieve, given the training I’d get at GHP. Certainly I hadn’t had it up till that point. Our schools had no art classes; I took lessons out at the Rec Center from Tom Powers (of Powers’ Crossroads fame).

Clearly, though, I would be unable to get into the art major today. Our kids are phenomenal, as you’ll agree if you’ve followed my blog for any length of time and read my posts about the art exhibits each summer. The level of technical expertise and artistic sophistication would put my 16-year-old self, and indeed my 56-year-old self, to shame.

However, as Diane Mize, my painting teacher from the summer of 1970, has reminded me, art instruction in the schools forty years ago sucked. I might have been better prepared, better trained, if Newnan High School had be better able to teach me.

And as she has also reminded me, whether or not I was a good painter I was at heart an artist, one that deserved to go to GHP and who took all that it had to offer and transformed his life with it.

Forty years ago.

New music

And we’re off. This morning I heard from Wallace Galbraith, and here are the answers to my questions:

  • around 70 players – 56 violins, 6 cellos, 2 basses, 1 accordion, 3 guitars, 1 percussionist and 1 pipe
  • 4-5 minutes
  • “it would be interesting and challenging for us to play music with its roots in your part of the world – please feel totally free to let your imagination roam!” [Uh-oh. Do we need to discuss this?]
  • “a deadline – it would be useful to be able to start work before Easter 2011 so let’s say the beginning of March”

Let the agony begin.