The question implicit in my previous post on Corey Dargel’s music was simple: Why am I not doing this? I think I have an answer now, and it’s not the one I expected to have.
In addition to a wide variety of sculpture, painting, and installations, the Blanton Museum features the Soundspace series which pairs composers with choreographers and dancers with instrumentalists to create interdisciplinary works that interact with and explore various spaces and works of art within the museum.
Like walking along the stone floors of cathedrals built ages ago or gazing at the portraits of kings whose reins have long since ended, Gregory Spears’s Requiem offers its audience a similarly blurred aesthetic experience, dissolving the present moment into an imagined history suggested by the trappings of style and language.
For the past several years, I’ve been spending a large amount of time playing a very small piano. In attempting to blend with other instruments, I found myself playing the metal tines directly in order to produce a greater variety of sounds at volumes other than the mezzo-piano to mezzo-forte range typical of the toy piano itself. Schoenhut Toy Pianos, the premiere contemporary manufacturer of these instruments, created an instrument specifically for me in order to allow me greater access to the working innards.
There is something fundamentally wrong with the whole way culture is still—in 2011!—framed in our society. It is presented as something rarefied that only a select few appreciate and to which even fewer can contribute, the immortal geniuses who are—for the most part—no longer among us. No wonder most folks think that cultural news is something that doesn’t matter to them.
Coming up with the idea for a new piece isn’t hard. The gaping chasm that separates the “idea” of the piece from the point where the composer has enough material that finishing the piece feels natural: that is the real challenge.
I remember spending a lot of time practicing when I was younger. First it was technical exercises, then, after I struck out on my own, I worked on things that were pertinent to work. Now that I’m pretty familiar with the instrument, I practice a lot less, probably less than is good. I still get the bass out when I get new music to work on that’s difficult, but that’s rarer these days.
The nature of long distance musical relationships is not unlike their romantic counterparts—time spent together is fleeting and intense, there is less of a shared daily routine, and extra effort is required to maintain communication during time apart. It’s definitely more complicated than having a musical life primarily in one’s own backyard.
Two recent events at Washington, D.C.’s Freer Gallery of Art (which houses a portion of the Smithsonian’s collection of Asian art) have juxtaposed Western and Asian culture via concert programs of (mostly) contemporary music. In October, the Lark Quartet and koto player Yumi Kurosawa presented the quartet version of Daron Hagen’s koto concerto, Genji, and last week another concert at the Freer Gallery featured other recent works presented by Music from Copland House and Music from China.
In the West, the environment of concert music is one of transcendence. We use our music to transport our listeners from the concert hall to another private world, created by the interaction of the listener’s imagination and the music. While transcendence is also the aim of Indian classical music, it is weighed against the equally vital component of audience involvement.
On November 8, 2011, the merger of the American Music Center and Meet The Composer into New Music USA was officially completed, marking the end of a nearly year-long process. The new organization will operate in two broad program areas—grantmaking and media—reaching composers, performers, and listeners in all 50 states and projecting a more visible and audible profile for new American music all over the world.
We don’t always have the resources to mount such a thorough production in CMW, but last week’s performance was a valuable reminder that the extra work, time, and inconvenience of an elaborate staging can be worthwhile and then some.
Recently, I’ve been revising a piece in advance of its premiere while working with the player for whom it was composed. These revisions have mainly consisted of scouring through the score and removing superfluous notes. The process of deleting notes has helped to create a better piece.
It seems perfectly natural that cellist Matt Haimovitz, who in the very early 21st century moved the Bach cello suites out of the concert hall and into what were at the time “alternative” performance spaces such as bars and nightclubs, would join forces with pianist Christopher O’Riley, who has created his own piano arrangements of songs by Nirvana and Radiohead to name just a few.
If I were to point to a work that was a defining, life-changing work for me, it would probably be neither Rite of Spring or In C, much as I love them both and still frequently return to them. It would be Satyagraha whose American premiere I attended nearly 30 years ago and which I have only seen live for the second time in my life on Friday night at the Met.
The dedication of Ensemble Dal Niente was remarkable. Their tight, well-rehearsed performances allow one to hear the details lurking within these new works. There was more than enough in these two concerts to draw these ears toward further performances.
Denman invited me to go along with him to see Mark Dresser at New York University. I didn’t know Mark was in town and I soon found out that he wasn’t. He was playing via Internet2 in a concert called “Inspiraling: Telematic Jazz Explorations” with musicians at the NYU Steinhardt School Music Technology and Music Composition.
Later today, I will have reached 40. It’s a number I’ve been looking forward to for quite a long time. No, if you are wondering, today is not my birthday. Later today (this first Friday of November) I will be conducting my fortieth interview with a composer since I began this adventure almost 18 months ago.
Musical America has announced the winners of the annual Musical America Awards, which recognize “artistic excellence and achievement in the arts.” Meredith Monk has been named “Composer of the Year.” Cellist David Finckel and pianist Wu Han have been awarded the “Musicians of the Year” award, the first time the honor has been shared.
I wonder what makes music sound “spooky” to people—is it the instrumentation? The harmonic language? The melodic lines? No one seemss to be able to pinpoint exactly why they experience some music that way, or for that matter, why they don’t.
Even in cases where I have met frequently with performers during the composition of a piece, something about the medium of notated music seems to necessitate a certain amount of reclusion. The other athletes wait anxiously by the first checkpoint, crossing their fingers and hoping that the composer is on time while they remain unable to do a whole lot until the composer shows up.
Among the more effective “piano + one” possibilities is piano plus flute which goes back to at least Mozart and counts among its enduring repertoire works from Franz Schubert, Felix Mendelssohn, Cecile Chaminade, Serge Prokofiev, York Bowen, Samuel Barber, Paul Bowles, Francis Poulenc, Olivier Messiaen, Aaron Copland, and even John Cage. And in recent years, several recordings have shown that the combination of flute and piano continues to be intriguing.
Given the simple arithmetic of these cattle calls—many scores will be sent, only one chosen—rejection is par for the course. It never bothers me, though: I reason that even though there are plenty of criteria a panel of judges might consider in choosing a selection, it’s very difficult for someone who is grossly incompetent to come out on top; if it doesn’t go my way, the person who did snag the performance, commission, or prize probably won it fair and square. It’s not a referendum on how bad my piece is but rather on how great someone else’s is, and that’s fine by me.
One of the most challenging aspects of the choral concert process in New York is finding the right place for the choir to perform. Searching out affordable space with resonant acoustics that can accommodate a large group of singers, with good backstage and audience facilities, a cool vibe, and a strong reputation for music is a preoccupation I share with many other choir leaders.
