And on we go! For the moment I’m calling this final movement “Dialog,” for lack of a better, more music-related term.
Here are the opening measures [mp3]. As usual, this is a sketch, and I penciled it all in just to get an idea if the concept would work. I think it will.
I went to clean off the center today — I like to keep it pretty — and this is what I found:
Ha! A raccoon! This explains a lot: overturned pots, knocked over doodads, etc. I wondered how possums were making it around to every single clay pot and bumping into them all. Now we know. It was a creature with more manual dexterity and a lot more curiosity.
In other news, I went over to talk to the nice man who is renovating the house behind us. He is quite amenable to the idea of putting motion sensors on his security lights so that they don’t light up my back yard every night. Huzzah!
When you’re writing a piece that is supposed to “sag to a stop,” it should hardly come as a surprise when it just does that of its own accord.
I’m going to post what I’ve got, but what I’m doing now is taking it out to the labyrinth and listening to it for about thirty minutes, doing my whole gestalt thing, listening for where it’s incomplete or incorrect. Then I’ll come back in a fix it, if I need to. It will be interesting to see what changes occur.
As of 10:00 am:
Threnody: score [pdf] sound [mp3]
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11:00ish: (with 30 minutes devoted to making and delivering coffee for the Wadsworth gang) Yep, I know what I need to do.
12:45: Lunch break, in the labyrinth. More listening, more fixing.
2:45: I think I’m done. Comment away.
For some reason, once upon a time, someone left a little pile of extremely strong magnets in my media center. They’ve been sitting on my desk for over a year now, and the other day I had a scathingly brilliant idea.
You may recall that I’ve been puzzling over the eastpoint of the labyrinth, the element of which is Air. The problem is that the other elements admit of lowkey stations: a pile of rocks, a candle, a basin of water. But Air seems to need something that floats at least a little, and therefore must be far enough above the ground to catch the wind.
I keep thinking “flags,” but the idea of tracking fabric filmy enough to float and then leaving it to the mercy of the elements, getting stained and dirty and generally icky, was distasteful. I have a set of Tibetan prayer flags made of art tissue that arrived as a “free gift” from some alternative store I trafficked with, and I thought about those.
But then I was cleaning off my desk at school and came across these magnets. It occurred suddenly to me that I could combine all these concepts and solve the problem: get tissue paper (which floats and is expendable), cut it into flags, and attach it to the rebar now standing next to the eastpoint entrance with the magnets. Presto! Easy to do, easy to undo, and attractive to the eye.
Now I can play with the concept: cutting different shapes, using rice glue to create longer pennons, different colors for different moods. The sky’s the limit, pun intended.
In other news, this morning I was looking out the den window onto the labyrinth and decided I would pave over (paving stones) the firepit area in a large circle. It would be practical in terms of fire safety, and the circle would be quite beautiful next to the labyrinth.
I’m working, I’m working.
I’ve decided to go with #1, and I’ve renamed it “Threnody,” because that’s what it sounds like. More later.
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10:16 pm: Here’s what I have going on. I have four motifs I’m working with:
There’s also the grace note attacks that keep popping up.
Anyway, I’m playing with combining those motifs in various mixes, often ending up with two instruments dwindling to nothing, only to have the wheel (of life?) given another spin. Eventually, however, the whole thing will just sag to a complete stop.
In the sound file, the last thing you hear is the first violin rousing itself to a bit of bravura. It doesn’t work yet, so don’t bother to comment. I’ll have to keep playing with the line until it makes sense.
More tomorrow.
Go ahead, read this. I’ll wait.
So, if I’m reading this gentleman’s post correctly, the American Family Association is all down with a) stoning a whale, and b) the manager of SeaWorld alongside him.
My only takeaway from this is that I hope that the crew who continually quotes Leviticus to keep the rest of us from eating shrimp realizes where the trajectory of their logic takes them, and us, if we’re not diligent in our exposure and ridicule of them.
Here we go with the Pieces for Bassoon & String Quartet. So far, my plan is to have three movements. The first is I. Waltz, which some of you may recall from this past summer. I really like this piece.
The second movement will be a Rhapsody of some kind. More in a moment.
For the third movement, I am seriously thinking I want to take the “clouds” sequence from “Phoenix” and turn that into a quasi-rondo: have the strings launch into this intense, even romantic passage, repeat it, embellish it, make it impossible to keep up with. Relegate the bassoon to some deformed, crabby crawlings around either at the bottom of it range or at its top.
For the Rhapsody, I was delighted to find that I had started two sketches for this. So you get to help me choose which one to work on in the next eight days. Make sure you listen to the first movement first to get a feel for the overall work.
What’s your pleasure?
I’m ready for it to be warm. No, really ready. Really.
I’m ready to unclog and untangle my herb garden. Some of the plants are making a valiant effort to put forth, thank you, parsley, chives, and oregano. I would thank rosemary, but it never goes away. The sage is too old; I need to replace it.
Cilantro usually reseeds itself, but I haven’t seen any shoots. It’s probably been TOO COLD for it to do its usual year-round thing.
It is about time to try to put out lettuce. But first I have to find a day that’s warm enough for me to be out there to unclog and untangle the place.
However, here’s the good news: this year I will be here all summer to maintain it and to enjoy the fruit of my labors. In the past, I’ve planted a lovely garden and get to use it for maybe four weeks before decamping to Valdosta. When I get back, whatever has survived without me is overgrown with grass.
But not this summer. This summer I can cook every day with fresh herbs. I can rescue plants that are failing, or rip them out and get new ones in the ground. I can try potted herbs, since they have to be watered every day and I’ll be here to do that, and probably will be lo0king for something to do after the first three days of leisure.
Yet another reason to get busy and get the bassoon/quartet piece done, so I can actually free up some time.
Technically, though, I can wait until weekend after next to start digging and weeding. At that point, the bassoon/quartet piece will already be in the mail, and I don’t have another competition for which I will have to write a new piece, at least if I decide to bag the a cappella Italian children’s choir piece, which I think I am.
Having slammed “Phoenix” in the mail yesterday to the Meistersingers out in California, I feel as if I’m accomplishing… something. Second competition in as many weeks. Wow.
True, last week’s was just the SATB arrangement of “Sonnet 18,” and this week’s was the mostly unsatisfactory “Phoenix,” but still, there it is. I have re-entered the world of competitive composing.
Next up, I want to tack on two more movements to the bassoon/strings piece from this past summer, in turn based on “I dance a club-foot’s waltz” from the 24 Hour Challenge, which I also need to get back into. There are two competitions with deadlines of March 15 to which I can submit that.
Yes, it’s simultaneous submissions. The day I win either competition, much less both, is a day you should all be worried about, since clearly the entire universe has changed some of its core functions.
Making time for this could be a little problematic. The social life is once again whirring up. Atlanta Opera tonight, if it doesn’t snow; Lacuna starts back up tomorrow night; the Wadsworth concert Saturday; Boys & Girls Club benefit on Sunday (Oscar party); math/science night at school next Thursday; and massive Masterworks weekend next weekend.
If push comes to shove, I’ll steal some of the nicer bits from “Phoenix” for this next piece. Might as well.
I’m going to live-blog this thing out of sheer frustration.
10:16: cheesy setting of I feel so helpless, but right now I’m feeling it. Setting All the familiar doctors/Touching the familiar folds is a brick wall.
10:21: got a rhythm worked out for All the familiar doctors/Touching the familiar folds. Now I have to segue from the pattern I’ve set up in I feel so helpless to something that will bear up under the lengthy line. Lengthy, however, is a good thing: I have only about 3:00 so far, and the piece has to be 4:00 at least. Who knew all this collapsed into so tiny a timeframe?
11:06: A death spiral phrase written. This simply has to be longer, so I’m going to break up the phrase and repeat it in fragments, actually setting up/anticipating the breakup of the water coda.
12:01: It’s patched together. I’m going to go have some lunch, then listen to it again afterwards. It almost coheres.
2:30: Lunch, Kroger, and now I’m in the back yard. I’ll share what I’ve got. Comment at will. I still have to construct a piano reduction, and there are some automations in Finale which will do most of that for me, print it, and mail it. They suggest a CD with a MIDI realization. I might do that, too.
“Phoenix”: PDF score, mp3 soundfile
It is four minutes long by the grace of unwarranted repetition. The last measure’s infinite repeat in particular nudges it over the four minute mark.
The knowledge that Mozart never felt this way in his entire life is very annoying to me. The fact that I have outlived him by twenty years is hardly consolation.
On a side note, I am ready for it to be a great deal warmer. I am weary of sitting in my labyrinth and feeling cold air on my body. I want the caress of the sun. Have another Carlsson’s Gold, Dale. Thank you, I will.
In another thirty minutes I need to go in and hammer out the piano reduction, then start the coq au vin we’re having for the Olympics Closing Ceremony Feast.
Well, at least I have a good start on my Lichtenbergian goal of churning out a great deal of crap. I wonder how much of this piece I can steal for next week’s continuation of the bassoon/string quartet? Discuss.
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update: Here’s the piano playing the piece. It’s almost tolerable here. Piano [mp3] (There are some minor changes from the score/mp3 above. One of them is fiendish.)