"A Song of Singing" written for the Delray Beach Chorale
My Studio Tour
This is where a lot of the work happens... my little studio!
I love having dual monitors on my desk so I can have multiple programs open at once.
I have a full-size keyboard with headphones set up next to my desk (in front of a window), so I can play or improvise and then input it into Finale right away.
Artistic Intentions
Once of my most recent works is a new wind ensemble piece for Mark Scatterday and the Eastman Wind Ensemble.
Distant Moons is a work inspired by the photography of Ansel Adams. As I was sketching out the piece, I wanted to learn more about Adams, his life, and his work. I have been an admirer of his photography for some time, although I have never known all that much about him. (One fascinating tidbit - Adams was actually a very gifted pianist and for much of his youth, planned to become a professional musician.)
So, a few months ago I decided I would read a biography of the great American artist.
I walked down the street to my town library, but unfortunately the only two "Ansel Adams" records they had on the shelves were a book of his color photographs and a DVD about his life. So, I asked if I could request a biography from another library. Indeed, a few nearby libraries had biographies, and through a inter-library loan agreement, they "ordered" the Mary Street Alinder biography of Ansel Adams. It arrived a couple of weeks later and I began reading a chunk of pages each night before bed.
One night, I was reading steadily through page 153 and suddenly came upon a sentence that stopped me dead in my tracks. I literally read it about 10 times, finding it profound and refreshing:
"Ansel, in contrast, felt that art must be created free from any intention other than the creation of beauty."
The "in contrast" refers to the work of László Moholy-Nagy, a European contemporary of Adams who was a leader in the avant-garde movement. Moholy-Nagy believed that "art should be used for social change." Adams disagreed, professing that the creation of beauty should be the only artistic intention - the sole reason for creating a work of art.
As a composer, I have always felt like I am on a quest to find beauty, and reading this quote over and over solidifies that idea in my mind. Surely what I am searching for most when writing music is beauty - bringing beauty to life and sharing it with others. Many intentions get in the way - what we "want" the piece to do, how we want it to unfold, how we want others to react to it.
There are undoubtedly many intentions and considerations floating around in our heads as we attempt to create a work of art. What I think I love so much about Adams' idea is that it reassures my desire to wipe all that excess intention and clutter away and simply create beauty.
Thanks, Ansel.
A Really Old Book
A few weekends ago, I was at a Historical Society sale in my town. I happened to spot a rather old book on a large table covered in books large and small, all on sale for 25 or 50 cents. I looked closely at the worn cover and read the faded title "Songs for the Sanctuary."
Interesting, I thought.
I got distracted and put the book down, but came back to it later and thumbed through the many pages. The book contains no actual sheet music, just texts for sacred hymns and psalms. The book was published in 1869 and the pages are still in pretty good shape considering the age of this book.
I bought the book and over the next few days, skimmed through the 1300+ texts in the book.
I'm astonished at the beauty of many of these texts - most are settings and variations of hymn texts, psalm texts, and biblical verses. It is not clear who actually wrote/adapted each specific text, as the book is a collection of these "songs," which have surely evolved over decades and centuries. However, many of these beautiful texts have likely been lost from sacred service music, due to their "dated" language.
In my love for old things, I find the antique nature of some of the language to be wonderful and certainly worth preserving.
I quickly realized that this book will be a fantastic source of texts to use in future compositions. I have already completed two works with texts drawn from this book: Once More, My Soul and An Hour of Hallowed Peace. I hope that I will be able to draw inspiration from the book for years to come.
Why I Love Music (Part II)
In case you missed it, here is Part I of this series. Here is another reason why I love music: #2: Music Brings People Together
Of course, you say. Tell me something I don't already know.
We go to concerts where groups of people gather, we play in ensembles together, we sing together. Music brings people together. But actually, that's not really what I mean.
Granted it's great that people get together to experience music and perform, listen, embrace all genres in communities large and small. But what I really mean is that music brings all kinds of people together. People who otherwise may not have much in common can be united through music. Language, geography, race, age, creed - all these types of boundaries can be crossed by music, and not many other things have that power.
I recently performed a couple of soulful and jazzy songs with a wonderful older gentleman, which got me thinking about this topic. Although I'm sure he and I have a number of things in common, on the surface we seem quite different, influenced primarily by the large age gap that "separates" us.
But it was music that brought us together and allowed us to share something special together. And the music crossed all boundaries - we were just two people playing music together and loving it. Indeed, music unites us on many levels.
Here's a video that's pretty popular (you may have seen it), but one that I think illustrates this point really well.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEs8yqhavtI
Why I Love Music (Part I)
The other day I realized at least one reason why I really love music, and so I thought I would create a little series of posts on this topic. So, without further ado: #1: Music is not a material thing.
This is the thought that started this whole idea for me. I realized that amongst all the material goods that surround us (i.e. smartphones, computers, cars, houses, gadgets) there is music - just sound waves traveling through the air. Sure, you can record it and turn it into a tangible, possibly material thing, but that's not the point. The point is that music exists on a wavelength totally separate from our material-obsessed society.
When we sit there and marvel at the beauty of a piece of music, we aren't marveling at its monetary value, shiny exterior, or sex appeal. We are enamored solely with the sound itself and how it makes us feel. In our society today, we really have to dig our way through the material-saturated culture to find those things which possess inherent value beyond a tangible state. As our world grows even more focused on material items, music will remain. If all of our material things vanish, music will remain.
Stay tuned for Part II.
PS. I realized a piece of music to illustrate my point was probably in order. Thus, I give you Mahler.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0Px44IuVKM
Themes from the Vernacular
This evening, I turned on the CD player and put in a CD full of "American Music." I compiled the CD myself to celebrate the fourth of July last year, and interestingly, there are several pieces by non-american composers that appear on the CD. Among these are Dvorak's Symphony No. 9 "From the New World."
It's a work we often group into the "Americana" genre, as the nation of cowboys and colonials inspired the great work. Infused throughout the work are many original themes that Dvorak wrote based on Native American and African American melodies he encountered in the US. The native Bohemian wrote the work in 1892 during his stint as head of the National Conservatory in New York.
The second movement of Dvorak's symphony is particularly well-known for its beautiful melody which was later popularized as a spiritual (Goin' Home). It's interesting to think that Dvorak was attempting to write themes in the vain of spirituals, and that his original theme was later turned into a spiritual and became widely popular. He obviously paid attention to what he was hearing around the country.
Many composers have drawn on folk songs and themes from the vernacular in their music. However, not many have been able to create an original work which was later adopted as part of that vernacular. It seems backwards, but in fact it shows the care and respect that Dvorak had for this music. It is entirely possible to believe (if you don't know the history behind the work) that Dvorak's tune was in fact a spiritual that he borrowed - it fits all the criteria. Although there is some speculation about this possibility, it's highly unlikely that Dvorak's tune existed before his pencil hit the paper.
Here's a video of Dvorak's wonderful second movement from Symphony No. 9 "From the New World." Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYl4Xb4cDQ8&hl=en_US&fs=1&
Endings
I'm finishing up a trumpet and piano piece, which got me thinking about endings. I love writing endings. Sometimes it is the hardest section of a piece to compose, but I love it anyway. Most composers probably agree that starting a piece is often the hardest part, but there is a certain pressure that looms when it comes time to write an ending. You have to wrap everything up - successfully, creatively, and uniquely. The ending is also a great opportunity - to transform the music you've written, to "kick it up a notch" and take the listener somewhere special.
Endings are often where we find composers being the most creative.
Sometimes composers choose to bring the music to its highest moment of tension at the ending, saving the climax for the very end. Other times, the ending is understated, drawing the piece to a close in a hushed calm. Still other times, endings surprise us with their wit. Think about some of your favorite pieces and how they end - being that they are your favorite pieces, I bet they have endings that you love.
Renaissance composers such as Josquin developed the compositional idea of a conclusione - an ending which brings together all the pervading motives of the work. The technique provides a satisfying summation of the work - bringing back elements of music which we have heard before, but combining them into an amalgamation which is new and often stunning. Lately, I have found myself more and more attracted to this idea of conclusione, and several of my works aim for an ending that somehow brings together several music motives and transforms them through their simultaneous (or nearly simultaneous) combination.
Here is a wonderful example of a conclusione ending by Josquin, from his astounding psalm motet Miserere mei deus:
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