Category: Toolbox

Supersize Your Composer Residency

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Philip Rothman
Photo by Jake Lipman

Considering that I spend the vast majority of my time holed up in a modest New York apartment, it may seem a bit of a stretch to call me “composer-in-residence” anywhere besides my kitchen. I did, however, venture outside long enough to be the Eugene (OR) Symphony’s resident composer this season, and spent two weeks in that community courtesy of the Music Alive program, a partnership between the American Symphony Orchestra League and Meet The Composer.

Although the actual amount of time I spent in Eugene was rather brief, the symphony and I set up the residency to give the impression of a longer presence. I made two separate trips across the country; one week each in November and February. In the interim period, the university wind ensemble and the local youth symphony each performed a piece of mine, and although I wasn’t present at those performances, I spent a good amount of time conducting rehearsals with those groups in November while they were still learning the music. I also set up a composition project with an Advanced Placement (AP) Music Theory class during my first trip, and they were diligently working on this project in my absence.

It sounds like a lot, but none of this happened overnight; rather, it was the result of much planning and communication over a period of many months. A composer residency can be an amazing opportunity to grow as an artist and connect with the music community outside the studio door. And with a bit of planning, the headaches and frustrations that can accompany such a venture can be avoided.

  • Know the residency team ahead of time—reach out by e-mail and phone periodically, perhaps six months in advance, so they understand your skills and you understand their expectations.

Music Alive organized a weekend-long planning session prior to the start of the residencies during which all nine composer/residency pairs involved in this year’s round met in New York. Much of my time was spent with Paul Winberg, the symphony’s executive director, brainstorming ideas and just getting to know each other better. I already had a good relationship with Giancarlo Guerrero, the music director, from a previous performance he did of my music.

This communication proved to be invaluable. Often I hear stories about disastrous composer residencies where the orchestra (or other sponsoring institution) throws together a schedule of activities for the visiting composer, without even considering what that composer’s individual skills are. This lack of prep work is can result in awkward situations—a composer who has stage-fright being suddenly thrust in front of an audience of thousands and asked to speak extemporaneously about his music, or a composer with zero teaching experience scheduled for several school visits and master classes.

  • Make sure you convey your strengths to the residency team, and ensure that they have your latest press materials. This prepares you and the team for interviews, meet-and-greets, and pre-concert talks (anecdotes about how you got started, your influences, recent work, bio, program notes and background on the programmed work(s)).

When planning the residency with Eugene, I was sure to be clear about my particular strengths and weaknesses. I am effective working with high schoolers and college students, but I wouldn’t know what to do with younger kids (same goes for the playability of my music). I am an able conductor, but my instrumental performance chops are rusty. Public speaking is no problem for me. We built a residency around these skills so that I could be most effective. The next composer who may be microphone-shy but is a virtuoso performer and accomplished elementary school instructor would have a totally different but equally effective residency as long as the individual’s qualities are considered.

  • Actively engage the residency team regarding your schedule, and sketch out the main events day by day so you can make suggestions or they can see areas that need supplementing. Don’t be afraid to take ownership of your projects—it’s much better for you to be busy than to sit watching soaps in your hotel room!

Each orchestra’s unique situation must also be considered. The goals of this residency were to build and grow relationships within the community. In Eugene’s case, this meant more involvement with the university, the radio station, local public schools, and the non-profit organization that runs the youth symphony and the AP Theory class. Since the symphony had a full-time staff of only four, however, I was required to get involved at a very hands-on level, even from 3,000 miles away. Of course, the symphony was always kept involved and in the loop, but I was able to forge many relationships on my own before I even set foot in Oregon, which made it easier to work once I arrived. At that point, I had already taken ownership of my major projects, and I worked directly with the key people to ensure their successful execution. A large orchestra with bigger marketing and education departments, however, might prefer to have its staff do more of the legwork.

We don’t necessarily think of the composer as the connector among all these different community groups; we may first look to the music director, musicians, executives or board members to fulfill this role. Yet in many ways a composer-in-residence is uniquely suited to this task. There is a good balance between being a special outsider while logging enough time in the community to become a familiar face. Also, as composers our work is largely already done—we don’t have the pressure of rehearsing or practicing immediately prior to the concert, which frees us to be available and involved during that time. And composers bring a different, often unseen, face to the process of music creation, which leads to new ways of perceiving the music.

  • Consider a balance of “breadth vs. depth” in the projects you undertake. In other words, have one or two substantial projects that anchor the residency which involve a large degree of planning and interaction, supplemented by other, less time-consuming endeavors that allow you to engage the community in a broad way and increase your visibility.

The AP Theory project was a terrific example of linking the symphony’s constituents and fulfilling the charges of this residency in an organic way. After consulting with the class instructor, we set up a project whereby the students in the class would compose a short piece based on a given theme. The theme was from a piece I wrote when I was 19 years old, Overture for Our City, which most of the students were already rehearsing in youth orchestra. To integrate the project into the class curriculum, we talked about all the tools at the composer’s disposal to vary a theme: augmentation, transposition, inversion, retrograde, etc.—things that they would be studying throughout the year. This way they could put these things into practice via an original work of their own.

Stressing that I got my start writing for my friends, we limited their choice of instrumentation to the instruments that their classmates played (and also a maximum of four players). This resulted in everything from a traditional string quartet to more eclectic combinations. The students worked on their compositions from November through February, and when I returned, we arranged a recital of the pieces in a rather folksy format where I interviewed each student in front of the audience (we were inspired in this way by the radio program From the Top). This recital took place in front of an enthusiastic crowd at the concert hall, instead of the more traditional pre-concert lecture, one hour prior to the Eugene Symphony concert that included a piece of my own.

This did not happen by magic! There were many e-mails, phone calls, and changes of plan along the way, but it succeeded because we were working to find the best experience for everyone. It happened with the full support of the symphony but with a minimal outlay of resources on their part. No extra musician services were required; no extra setup or production costs were involved. We weren’t creating an extra project that would squeeze instructional time, since the project ultimately was enhancing what was already being taught. All the students were offered complimentary tickets to the symphony performance.

  • Be the “special visitor” in the classroom by bringing CDs (play clips of your work or relevant influences), and “talk without the chalk” —kids have questions and want to know about you, not the circle of fifths.

While the AP Theory project involved a good deal of advance effort, I was also scheduled for several school visits with no advance prep, ranging from a semi-rural high school band to a community college theory class. I had initially planned detailed lectures involving the inner workings of my music until I had a conversation with a composer friend of mine before I left for the residency. He reminded me that I would be the “special guest” at these schools, and that the students could always learn about things like augmented-sixth chords and modified rondo form from their regular instructor. He advised me instead to “talk without the chalk,” and instead engage the students in a more general conversation about my life as a composer, what it’s like to work in New York, with a professional orchestra, and how I get inspired as an artist.

His advice worked like a dream, as I was able to have a more natural exchange of ideas with these students than I would have had if I were simply lecturing. This general idea was also applicable whether I was giving a radio interview, speaking with adult groups, or even speaking to the Symphony board or guild. It did require more flexibility as well as an ability to quickly size up the audience and “go with the flow” than a traditional prepared lecture, which is something not everyone may be comfortable with initially. With experience it gets easier, though. I certainly felt like I was learning and growing in these roles even as the words were coming out of my mouth.

  • Follow up after the fact—take note of what was accomplished and what could be improved. Also make sure to get copies of all press, recordings, etc. related to your visit.

Participating in a residency that involves more than just composing can be out of the comfort zone for many of us. A poorly thought-out residency can be dispiriting. But when done right, it can be enriching for composer and orchestra alike; one can only hope that the successful residencies encourage more performers and presenters to plan them as an essential part of their ongoing activities, thereby creating more opportunities for all composers.

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Philip Rothman is a freelance composer and arts consultant in New York City. He was formerly Director of Grantmaking Programs at the American Music Center.

Intonation and Microtonality

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About fifteen years ago, I first came across a copy of Harry Partch’s Genesis of a Music while browsing in the university library in St. John’s, Newfoundland. Picking up the autographed title by chance curiosity, I became fascinated by the mixture of archaic-looking mathematical ratios and Partch’s passionate and polemic prose, with which he lambasted the American classical music establishment of the 1940s. His radical re-analysis of musical intervals dismissed the inaccuracies of the tempered tradition and embraced the possibilities of the harmonic series’ more distant reaches. The freshness of his approach sparked my own interest in intonation and microtonality.

I would describe intonation as the art of selecting pitches, or (more accurately) pitch-“regions” along the glissando-continuum of pitch-height (following James Tenney’s description in the 1983 article “John Cage and the Theory of Harmony”). The “tolerance” or exactitude of such regions varies based on the instrument and musical style.

In this context, microtonality is an approach to pitch which acknowledges the musical possibility of this entire glissando-continuum and is not limited to the conventional twelve equal tempered pitch-classes.

Georg Friedrich Haas, in his article “Mikrotonalitäten” (1999), distinguishes four approaches to microtonal composition:

  1. music based on beating and detuning phenomena
    (i.e. Scelsi, Feldman, Lucier)
  2. music based on inharmonic equal-division systems
    (i.e. Hába, Carrillo, Wyschnegradsky; atonal music in 12-ET)
  3. music based on irrational/inharmonic structures
    (i.e. Varese, Cage, Lachenmann; random tunings, percussion spectra, multiphonics)
  4. music based on harmonic Just Intonation (JI)
    (i.e. Partch, Johnston, LaMonte Young, Tenney)

In addition, it is possible to consider the historical temperaments (Meantone and Well-Tempered) as hybrid systems combining the harmonic implications of JI with detuning. Such hybrid (“tempered” semi-harmonic) systems also include certain unconventional equal temperaments—for example 19-, 31-, 53-, 55-, and 72- ETs (among others). Especially important to contemporary composers is 72-ET (based on 1/12 tones), which has been used (among others) by Ezra Sims, Joseph Maneri, James Tenney, and in Europe by Hans Zender. This system allows for a very close approximation of many 11-limit JI ratios advocated by Harry Partch without abandoning the advantages of the conventional tempered semitones.

The increasing plurality of compositional approaches, as well as the diversity of tunings required for many traditional musics (i.e. Arabic, Chinese, European “Early Music”, Indian, Indonesian, etc.) demands a new level of refinement from instrumentalists, an ability to distinguish and reproduce different tunings. Intonation is no longer simplistically reduced to “in tune” vs. “out of tune” based on the nearest possible “consonance”. Contemporary practice demands a differentiation of various sonorities (from the simplest to the most complex), and cultivation of the ability to tune them on various instruments.

In my own approach to intonation, I am especially interested in the distinction between tunable intervals (“consonances” in an extended sense) and tunable dissonances (intervals which may be tuned through a succession of consonances). This gives me a harmonically motivated definition of intonation based on pitches which may be directly produced on instruments and sets of intervals which may be directly derived from such pitches. Subsets of tunable interval combinations can lead to different scales and tone-systems, which I generally develop based on the instruments involved in a given piece. Given a reasonable degree of tolerance for mistuning (in simultaneous sounds, +/- 2 cents), this method allows for a fairly accurate realization of many microtonal pitches because the players are always able to construct the pitches required by ear.

The first step in any microtonal intonation is an accurate method of notation. Absolute pitch-height may be notated in cents, by placing a deviation (+/-) above the appropriate accidental. This allows reference to the tempered system and to electronic tuning devices. However, as a harmonic notation it is insufficient. To accurately specify complex harmonic relations, it is necessary to know the frequency ratio of the intended interval. Following Harry Partch’s approach, one might simply write the intended ratio above the interval, for example: taking the perfect fifth G-D one would write (-3.9) for the G and (-2.0) for the D. Then above the interval, a ratio (3/2).

An alternative would be a precise just intonation notation using modified accidentals. In this case, there are two alternative approaches. In the 1950s Ben Johnston (a student of Partch) developed a tonally motivated JI pitch notation, based on the C major scale (1/1 – 9/8 – 5/4 – 4/3 – 3/2 – 5/3 – 15/8 – 2/1). Though radical in its time and significant historically, Johnston’s approach is fundamentally flawed because it is asymmetric—intervals which we have learned to accept as perfect fifths are not always so in his system (Bb-F, D-A, F#-C# are all one comma smaller than a perfect fifth with ratio 3/2).

An earlier approach to JI notation was established in the mid-1800s by Oettingen and used by Helmholtz and Riemann. It forms the basis of a notation system I have developed together with Wolfgang von Schweinitz, and which we call The Extended Helmholtz-Ellis JI Pitch Notation. It is based on the Pythagorean interpretation of the series of perfect fifths, notated with double-flats, flats, naturals, sharps, double sharps. (Cage uses this notation in his 1977 Cheap Imitation for solo violin).

For each new prime number, a comma-alteration is defined so that all ratios can be graphically notated: for example, the Syntonic comma (prime number 5 in the harmonic series) is indicated by attaching arrows to the normal accidentals. A similar approach (with different symbols) is used in the independently developed notations of Daniel Wolf and Joe Monzo. In our version, the accidental symbols include signs for tempered pitches and may also be combined with cents indications (invented by Ellis), allowing pitches to be read (both) harmonically and/or melodically.

[See illustration 1]

Using a harmonic notation with cents allows a composer to precisely analyze the intervallic structures which are inherent in string and brass instruments. Both families are based on the principle of open strings/tube lengths with harmonics/overtones. Taking the open G-string on the violin, for example, it is possible to notate each of the natural harmonics and to distinguish precisely the nodes at which these natural pitches may be realized.

[See illustration 2]

In this sense, it is possible to explicitly define and notate a harmonic approach to microtonality. On a given instrument, it is possible to arbitrarily tune each of the strings or tube lengths (scordatura/valve tuning). From each string or tube-length, it is theoretically possible to produce harmonic partials.

On the string instruments, these partials occur at nodes: when lightly pressed, the harmonic partial sounds; when pressed down to the fingerboard, the stopped node sounds. It is important to note several practicalities: (1) the partials are fairly well-tuned until 8, at which point they gradually become slightly sharper than the theoretical harmonics, at a rate of circa 4 cents per partial. This detuning due to inharmonicity varies depending on the thickness and stiffness of the string (thinner, longer, more flexible strings are more perfectly tuned). (2) The pitches indicated as nodal points are exactly accurate only if the string is very precisely pinched at the nodal point. The process of pressing down the finger and string against the fingerboard causes the pitch to rise and must be taken into account by the player and the composer when working with precisely tuned nodal pitches.

In addition to these harmonics and nodes, it is possible for a violinist to tune double-stops to open strings and to natural harmonics. As long as the double-stop is one of the intervals tunable by ear the player will be able to accurately construct many new pitches by this method.

[See illustration 3]

The composer must bear in mind the physical constraints of hand position and the reality that higher harmonics do not speak as readily, but certainly the first five partials may be used as “starting points” in this manner. It is possible to repeat this process several times to achieve complex tuned dissonances (at each stage bearing in mind the limitations of possible hand positions).

For example: Play the open D-string together with B-natural one comma down (-17.6 cents) on the A string (1st finger, pure major sixth 5/3). To the comma-lowered B-natural, tune an A-natural lowered by a comma and a septimal comma on the E string (-48.8 cents, 3rd finger, natural seventh 7/4). Then play the open A string (0 cents) together with the lowered A (-48.8 cents). This is a beating, tuned “quartertone-diminished octave” with the ratio 35/18.

On brass instruments, similar analogies are possible with a careful analysis of the valve-combinations. In this case, it is important to note the fundamentals of each valve-combination. In the case of the horn, for example, if the three valves are respectively tuned to 2/15, 1/15, and 3/15 of the open horn’s length, then the combinations will add up to produce lengths in the proportion 15:16:17:18:19:20:21. These form a descending sequence of pitches with an interval structure mirroring the harmonic series in the downward direction (sometimes called a subharmonic series). Over each of these fundamentals, the player is able to play a harmonic series of overtones (on the horn especially, the higher harmonics may be very accurately realized, even as high as the 20th partial).

[See illustration 4]

Using such instrument-based techniques, it is possible for composers to begin to investigate harmonic microtonality on acoustic instruments with confidence that musicians will readily be able to hear and reproduce these pitches. For the composer further interested in microtonality, there are a number of fine freeware tools available for investigating intervals.

Manuel Op de Coul’s “Scala” program, available for PC, Linux, and Mac OS X is one highly recommended starting point.

Freeware fonts for Sibelius and Finale, more information about the Helmholtz-Ellis Notation, as well as music examples, can be found on my website.

***

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Marc Sabat

Marc Sabat is a Canadian composer and violinist living in Berlin since 1999. He has written concert music for various ensembles including acoustic instruments, live computer and electronics, as well as making recorded projects involving sound and video (installation, DVD, and internet). He has recently developed The Extended Helmholtz-Ellis JI Pitch Notation and is currently teaching a course in acoustics and experimental intonation at the Universität der Künste Berlin. Sabat also performs chamber music and solo concerts and has recorded music on various labels including mode records, World Edition, and HatArt. Marc Sabat studied at the University of Toronto and the Juilliard School of Music in New York.

contact: Plainsound Music Edition, [email protected]</P

Laptop Music For Beginners

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I’ve always been envious of musicians who are able to rough up their instruments. Especially guitarists. They can scrape, scratch, attach alligator clips, hammer, strum, and treat their instruments with all manner of abandon in the hopes of finding the perfect tone. Working with dancers, I’ve felt something of a similar envy: the distance between self-expression and physical action is a short one, at least after one has spent many years intensely practicing. But if your PowerBook is your instrument, artistic gratification through dynamic force is usually not the most practical way to get the sound you want, unless your approach to performance is something akin to a laptop version of Al Hansen’s Yoko Ono Piano Drop. And I must confess, there have certainly been times I’ve felt the urge to throw my computer from the top of a building, usually while struggling to learn some confusing new computer music software.

Of course there are many artists who actively challenge and minimize the distance between the real-world and the digital realm. Groups like Sensorband and organizations like STEIM have been developing electronic performance interfaces for many years, making live computer performance a visceral activity. I once saw a performance by Bob Bellerue from Los Angeles wherein he was cleverly playing only his Pismo PowerBook, running a program called SuperCollider through the house speakers, opening and closing the machine like an accordion, thereby controlling the amount of feedback created by limiting the sound coming into the internal microphone. It was both an intensely visual and sonic experience.

These days it is quite normal to just play a laptop as an instrument in its own right. Laptop musicians are ubiquitous throughout much of the world, as are the popular software titles that empower them. When in a Tokyo Tower Records a couple of years ago, I happened upon a sub-section in their experimental music corner austerely entitled Max/MSP. Apparently it’s not just software anymore, it’s also a genre!

Where Does It All Come From?
Electronic music has a relatively short history, and live computer music has an even shorter one. To grossly oversimplify the matter, thanks to Moore’s law, a small laptop computer onstage today allows one to do more than countless hours spent working with large mainframe computers and bulky analog synthesizers would have thirty years ago. One could make a comparison between the effect of personal computers on desktop design and publishing in the mid-’80s to its impact on electronic music now. (Eric Kuehnl has written a concise overview of the history of computer music here.) It is now possible for nearly anyone to work with digital sound in a detailed and non-superficial way, even on a limited budget. In the pop realm, there are commercial software versions of everything from the Mini Moog synthesizer to the vintage sound of a Roland TR-808 drum machine. Or, on the other side of the coin, using Max/MSP software one can replicate, in real-time, Stockhausen’s Elektronische Studie II (1954). Most of these can run on moderately priced computer of the last 10 years.

Where To Start?
If you are new to computer music, purchasing the basic equipment is not so complicated.There aren’t so many choices to make. In fact, compared to shopping for a guitar, it’s a relatively simple matter. Shopping for a guitar means tracking down exactly the kind of instrument you are looking for, when every guitar manufacturer has its own distinctive sound qualities. In the world of computers, you have a choice between two (maybe three) flavors of computer operating systems: Apple, Microsoft, and if you are feeling adventurous, Linux. For the purposes of this beginner tutorial, we will steer clear of the Linux experience. Historically, Apple has been a stronger force in computer music, integrating its hardware and software very closely, and producing a user-experience that has excelled in creative use. Many will argue that the differences between Microsoft and Apple operating systems are negligible today, but I still believe that Apple is stronger in the realm of professional audio application, as most popular music software was originally developed for Apple systems and have only relatively recently migrated to the Windows’ world causing them to be less than fully developed on that platform. Apple also seems to have a design dedication to simplicity that I find makes the user-experience more enjoyable than Windows. In a word, Apple computers are still fun. I’m not sure that’s the case with Microsoft. And really, Apple is just cooler than Microsoft, isn’t it?

After you’ve made your choice in hardware, the next step is choosing software. Assuming that most of the people reading this are of the more composerly persuasion interested in making live performance environments or sound pieces for installation, Max/MSP, made by Cycling ’74, and SuperCollider, now an open source project, originally created by James McCartney, are probably two of the strongest contenders in designing unique compositional systems. They both allow the composer to work at very basic levels and are essentially programming environments.

Two other programs that are very powerful but a little less demanding of the composer’s grasp of programming skills are LiSa, from STEIM in Amsterdam, and Live, from Ableton in Berlin. Again, the decision about which to use is a personal one, and for some it seems to be almost an issue of theological fervor. I’m going to stay away from the tendency towards indoctrination by simply providing a brief overview of these four programs.

SuperCollider is a text-based, full-fledged programming environment in which complex musical environments can be created and developed with a very high degree of control. It runs on Mac OS X (as well as Windows and Linux, in a limited form). For some people, the fact that it is text-based can be a bit daunting, but it need not be. It is simply a different way of thinking: with a more graphic-oriented program, one works with pictures to get desired results. In a text-based environment, one simply works with words, not pictures. It just requires a readjustment of perspective, but it is certainly not inherently any more difficult than a program with a graphical user interface. In fact, text-based programming allows for concision and precision that would require much more time and screen-space in a GUI (graphical user interface) programming environment. In SuperCollider, there are similar sound-construction building blocks, such as buffer players, oscillators, and filters, as those found in Max/MSP, but the way they connect to each other and interact is different. Instead of a screen full of virtual cables connecting all of the components, it is a matter of writing text in an intuitive object-oriented programming language to determine what, when, and how events should happen. The program is completely free and open-source, to boot.

Here is a picture of some code in which a homemade reverb unit has been made in SuperCollider. One used to have to buy hardware to do this. You can listen to the results of running some frequency modulated sine waves through it here. Don’t be intimidated by the code, with just a little explanation all the obscure hieroglyphics can be made clear.

Max/MSP is a commercial graphical programming environment, which means you create your own software using a visual toolkit of objects, and connect them together with patch cords. The basic environment—which includes MIDI controls, user interface, and timing objects—is called Max. Built on top of Max are hundreds of objects, one collection of which is called MSP, which handles the actual digital sound processing work. Max/MSP is much older than SuperCollider and has a relatively large network of fellow users. Also, its graphical interface may allow for a shorter learning curve. The software works with basic sound building blocks, such as oscillators, filters, buffer players, and so on, which could be thought of as sonic Lego blocks, allowing the user to build intricate sound environments from modular components. The results can be as complex as the work of Carl Stone and Tetsu Inoue in their piece #.transparency, or as minimal as the work of Sachiko M’s pure sine waves. Here is a picture of the kind of environment in which one can work with Max/MSP.

LiSa is a real-time sampling performance environment that has been recently rebuilt for the Macintosh OS X operating system, and it lends itself to intuitive and immediate use in live environments. A graphical environment, it looks like this, is already available wherein it is a very intuitive process to set up a real-time sampling environment, allowing one to manipulate their music live in ways that would have been unthinkable before the age of digital audio. The program allows for a virtual instrument of samples or for processing of an audio input. These sounds can be controlled and processed in very complex ways with real-time MIDI control. Complex systems of triggering and processing can be set up using drawable tables and interactive interfaces. This program takes a lot of the stress out of building real-time performance systems, and still allows for a great deal of customization. This program has been around for a while, and has a very large base of performers using it on a regular basis. This has helped it become a solid tool for live performance, and it is programmed essentially by one person who reads his email and listens to suggestions. You couldn’t ask for more personalized user support. Here is an example of a piece of music using LiSa taken from the user mailing list, by an artist named Kanito using LiSa to interact with a billiard table, entitled Kanito_duo# 1_billar (part 7).

Ableton Live is a hot program. Here’s a screenshot (please ignore the tacky sample names). Used by world-renowned musicians and DJ’s, it has filled a gaping hole in the needs of electronic artists: the ability to loop samples and do it smartly and with style. Live does essentially one thing and does it astoundingly well, it allows you to build and layer samples while auto-magically keeping them synchronized and in beat, if need be. In my experience, I’ve found that almost out of the box I am able to sync up rhythms with very little tweaking. It allows you to trigger these layers by MIDI control or just on screen. It also has an arranger window that lets you create large-scale time-based progressions, allowing one to essentially compose the piece beforehand. I’ve found the strength of the program to be less in the compositional realm and more in the live realm of sample-based performance and triggered loops, thus its name, I reckon. This program will allow young independent musicians to make the next musical equivalent of the film Tarnation.

Ceci, n’est pas musique…
People start making music with computers for different reasons. Maybe part of the attraction is the sense of individual control over the sound, or the possibility of making a timbre that hasn’t been heard before. Or maybe it’s the inherent experimentalism of the whole process and the fact that cultural ideas of a clearly defined norm in electronic music aren’t nearly as solidified as they are for traditionally scored pieces. This provides a welcome release for many composers. Whatever one’s motivations for making electronic music, the tools for high quality digital electronic music-making are readily available and less expensive than they’ve ever been before. So what are you waiting for?

***

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Roddy Schrock is a sound artist living in San Francisco. SuperCollider, Japanese independent music, frequent travel: these are a few of Roddy’s favorite things.</P

Accordion Registrations

The accordion is relatively young compared to most other acoustic instruments; it was patented and named “accordion” in 1829 by the Viennese piano and organ-builder Cyrill Demian. He described his simple instrument as “a little box with feathers [reeds] of metal plates and bellows fixed to it.”

The instrument rapidly became popular with the proletarian classes for several reasons; 1) it was relatively easy to learn to play simple diatonic folk melodies with minimal instruction, 2) it was small and portable, 3) it was affordable because of new manufacturing technologies which appeared during the Industrial Revolution, and, 4) as it had two manuals, the second consisting of buttons which provided bass and preset chords, it could accompany itself. No separate accompanying instrument was needed as the right hand could play the melody while the left hand could pump out a bass-chord “oom pah pah” harmonic pattern. Demian recognized the appeal of his new invention, and even hinted that it might assist in the musical courtship rituals between young men and women: “It is easy and comfortable to carry and should be a welcome invention for travelers, country and parties visiting individuals of both sexes, especially as it can be played without the help of anybody.”

Within a few short years, propelled by the massive waves of poor immigrants seeking a better life, the instrument spread throughout Europe and overseas to North and South America. Eventually accordion builders began to enlarge the instrument to include more than one set of reeds for the right-hand manual. Like the pipe organ, which contains many different ranks of pipes, the accordion evolved to contain different ranks of reeds, each reed rank having a different range and timbre. Early in the 20th century, the accordion was standardized with four separate reed ranks for the right-hand manual. Registers (also known as stops) were added to easily change the registration. The modern accordion contains four reed ranks and eleven different stops, each stop having a distinctive pitch range and tone color.

Perhaps because of its popularity with the uneducated masses, the accordion developed a reputation as a folk instrument, and classical composers rarely used the instrument in their works. When they did, composers used it sparingly to add a little folk color to their pieces. Tchaikovsky included four optional accordions in his Orchestral Suite No. 2 in C Major, op. 53 (1883) in the movement titled “Burlesque”. Umberto Giordano used the accordion in his opera Fedora (1898) to accompany the singing of a peasant shepherd during a scene set in the Swiss Alps. Charles Ives used a chorus of accordions in Orchestral Set No. 2 (1915) to imitate the sound of an organ grinder. Paul Hindemith included the accordion in Kammermusik No. 1 (1921), a chamber work in four movements which sometimes imitated the sound of a German dancehall band. Alban Berg included a short on-stage accordion part in his opera Wozzeck (1922) during the tavern scene. Serge Prokofiev included an accordion band in his 1936 Cantata for the 20th Anniversary of the October Revolution, op. 74.

Since then, many composers have included the accordion in their oeuvres, such as Virgil Thomson, Jean Françaix, Darius Milhaud, Henry Cowell, Paul Creston, Alan Hovhaness, Lukas Foss, David Del Tredici, Luciano Berio, Mauricio Kagel, and others, but, as opposed to most composers for the organ who specified suggested registration of pipes in their works, not all composers of accordion music specified in their scores a preferred registration of reeds.

Some composers leave the choice of registration up to the performer, perhaps because they may not be intimately familiar with the intricacies of the various reed ranks and tone colors within the instrument, but I think composers who write for accordion could benefit from learning a little about the different sonorities of the stops, especially for the right-hand manual.

The modern accordion has four ranks of reeds for the right-hand manual:

  1. one sixteen-foot rank called the “bassoon” reeds (also known as the “low” reed rank) which sounds one octave lower than written;
  2. one eight-foot rank called the “clarinet” reeds (the “middle” reed rank) which sounds as written; and
  3. one four-foot rank called the “piccolo” reeds (the “high” reed rank) which sounds one octave higher than written.
  4. The fourth reed rank is different from all the others, as it is an eight-foot rank of reeds which is tuned slightly sharp. In combination with the clarinet reeds, the two unison ranks of reeds sound together to produce a shimmering or pulsating effect, similar to the voix celeste stop on the pipe organ. This combination of reed ranks (two middle reeds) is called the “violin” stop.

This violin stop can be tuned either “wet” or “dry.” In a wet-tuned accordion, the difference between the pitches of the two eight-foot reed ranks is pronounced, which produces a wide and sometimes jarring vibrato. This clashing effect is considered pleasing by many folk music devotees.

On some accordions, the four-foot rank is replaced by a third eight-foot rank tuned slightly flat! This stop, called the authentic “musette,” produces a great amount of tension as three unison reeds sound simultaneously with each key depressed, each reed slightly out of tune with the other. This type of stop is greatly prized by many French and Irish folk accordionists, and it has become what many people consider the characteristic “accordion” sound.

On the other hand, in a dry-tuned accordion the two eight-foot reed ranks of the violin stop are tuned to nearly the same pitch. This results in a subtle and refined shimmering tone. I usually use this stop when playing with symphony orchestras, as I think the sound is more sophisticated and pleasing, unless the score obviously demands a musette sound. I used the dry-tuned violin stop when I played Carlos Gardel‘s “Por Una Cabeza” in concerts with violinist Gil Shaham and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in November 2003. During rehearsal I had an opportunity to demonstrate to conductor Mariss Jansons a passage which I played first with the violin stop and again with the master stop. Jansons decided, “Play with the first set of reeds; the second is too noisy.”

On the other hand, I used another accordion with a musette stop when I played Howard Shore‘s Lord of the Rings Symphony in concert with the same orchestra, because the accordion, along with the bodhran, hammered dulcimer, nylon-string guitar, Irish whistle, harp, and fiddle, was used to depict the simple and rural atmosphere of the Shire, the peaceful and quaint home of the simple and earthy Hobbit folk, by presenting a dulcet weave of Celtic-sounding melodies. Shore knew exactly what type of accordion sound he wanted, as he clearly specified “musette” in the score.

During the remainder of this article, I will describe the various timbres of the most common accordion reed ranks and stops, and provide MP3 sound files of recordings which demonstrate those reed ranks. [All recordings were performed by the author on a dry-tuned Italian-built Victoria “Emperor Model” accordion custom-tuned to A=440 by technician Leo Niemi, except for example 4b, which was recorded on a wet-tuned Giulietti accordion model “Classic 125” owned by Robert Kubacki, and example 12, performed by Nick Ballarini on a Petosa Musette Accordion.]

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Score used in audio demonstration.

The round symbols which accompany each stop depict the commonly-used internationally-known standardized accordion register symbols, and clearly indicate which reeds are to be used, as the common names for the stops, such as bassoon, clarinet, violin, etc., are often ambiguous and can vary from country to country.

A) Single-reed stops
1) name The bassoon stop (sixteen-foot rank) has a full and meaty tone which is especially favored by jazz accordionists. In most modern accordions this reed rank is encased within a wooden chamber (called a “tone chamber” or “cassotto”) which mutes the tone by eliminating some higher partials.

LISTEN to a sample

2) name The clarinet stop (eight-foot rank) produces a round tone relatively pure and free from harmonics (at least among accordion reeds). Like the bassoon stop, it is also encased within a tone chamber, making the resultant color darker. This reed rank is somewhat lighter in timbre than the bassoon stop, even within the same pitch range.

LISTEN to a sample

3) name The piccolo stop (four-foot rank) is thin and reedy. Because it is not muted by a tone chamber the sound appears brighter. It is very rarely used as a solo stop because the sound is relatively quiet. However it is often used in combination with other reed ranks, to add a brighter edge, as will be demonstrated below.

LISTEN to a sample

B) Double-reed stops
4a) name The violin stop (two eight-foot ranks, one tuned slightly sharp) is beautiful and projects well within a small ensemble. While the first rank (clarinet) is enclosed in a tone chamber, the second rank is unenclosed. This example was recorded with a “dry-tuned” accordion.

LISTEN to a sample

4b) name This violin stop example was recorded with a “wet-tuned” accordion.

LISTEN to a sample

5) name The bandoneón stop (one sixteen-foot and one eight-foot rank) is a characteristic accordion sound which is round and mellow, as both reed ranks are enclosed within a casotto.

LISTEN to a sample

6)name The organ stop (one sixteen-foot and one four-foot rank) has a slightly reedy quality because of presence of the unenclosed four-foot reed.

LISTEN to a sample

7)name The oboe stop (one eight-foot and one four-foot rank) has a thin quality, and is sometimes used to imitate Eastern reed instruments.

LISTEN to a sample

C) Triple-reed stops

8)nameThe accordion stop, consisting of one low reed and two middle reeds, has a heavier sound on account of the sixteen-foot reed.

LISTEN to a sample

9)name The harmonium stop, consisting of one low, one middle, and one high reed, has a bright, but dry sound, as all the reeds are perfectly in tune together.

LISTEN to a sample

10)name The so-called musette stop contains two middle reeds and one high reed, and combines the sounds of the violin and oboe stops. Although in America it is known by the name “musette,” that is not entirely correct; it is actually an imitation musette. The authentic “musette” accordion is completely different, as will be explained below in example 12.

LISTEN to a sample

D) Four-reed stops</b

11)name The master stop (one sixteen-foot, two eight-foot, and one four-foot rank) utilizes all four reed ranks of the accordion, and is the instrument’s loudest and fullest sound. It can be quite powerful when four or five-note chords are played fortissimo.

LISTEN to a sample

E) Special stops
12) name The authentic musette stop (three eight-foot ranks, all tuned slightly off-key) is very strong and distinctive. This does not appear on standard American accordions, but only on special “musette” accordions which have three ranks of unison eight-foot reeds. Some instruments are tuned to A-443 or higher, to exaggerate the strident effect and enable the instrument to “cut” through the texture of a folk or polka band.

LISTEN to a sample

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Henry Doktorski

Composer and concert accordionist Henry Doktorski currently serves on the faculty of The City Music Center at Duquesne University. His recording Vaudeville Accordion Classics, featuring the complete works of Guido Deiro, was released on Bridge Records in 2003. He has also recorded with the Cleveland Chamber Symphony and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra (including the 1997 release Cinema Serenade [Sony Classical] with violinist Itzhak Perlman).

Building Creative Relationships

Composer Seeks Ensemble, contemporarily inclined, for long hikes, walks on the beach, making beautiful music together…

The big question before us: How should you present your work to ensembles?

After the music is written, the scores and parts are copied, and the copyright is registered, the single most important issue left for the composer is how to get that music out to the world beyond the studio door. It is here that our job transforms from creator to expert marketer and sales agent, not to mention entrepreneur and business owner. In order to be successful at this second stage, it’s key to spend some time considering how to best present a new work to musicians who will potentially perform it.

I am fortunate to have created a life both as a composer and a performer, so I hope both perspectives can lend us some clarity in this conversation. It turns out that the questions and answers often apply in both directions, but I’ll address them mainly from the position of an emerging composer.

Probably the first thing that occurs to us as composers is to gather a bunch of scores together and send them out post haste to as many ensembles as possible, canvassing our industry with a direct-mail-like campaign. Sometimes the right matches are out there just waiting to be contacted, but I’d say, on its own, that’s a pretty farfetched idea. It might be better to refine the search, just as if you were considering asking someone out on a date—a friend of a friend is more likely to risk the time getting to know you than a stranger you pass on the street. Many performances of new work take place through deals forged as a result of word-of-mouth and recommendations from friend to friend, composer to colleague, along networks that have been developed over many years. These relationships are absolutely appropriate and have been cultivated with care, good soil, and plenty of water. When you look around at the people with whom you currently work, be they other composers or writers, business types or performers, these are the ones with whom you will create these same connections over the next many years.

That said, it’s not a secret society. New members are welcome. If you wish to integrate yourself into these particular pre-existing networks, then it’s time to seed the ground in the following manner, and consider some questions that will take us further in the long run:

To begin with, develop a list of ensembles that have a demonstrated interest in music similar to yours. Although we would love to believe that our music is completely unique, the fact is that people use their own references to group our music into ‘styles’ that make sense to them. Consider what style best describes your music. Zero in on just who might want to play and/or hear your music. What ensembles or presenting organizations are already excited by music in that style?

Now once you think you know where your music might fit well and with whom, it’s time to really investigate. Listen to the ensemble’s past recordings and check out their ads in magazines like Chamber Music America or the Musical America directory. Get an exact sense of what they’ve been programming and imagine where your composition might fit. Look closely at their photograph and overall presentation. Visit their website and find out where they played last season. Are you a match? Too many people approach an ensemble with music that is antithetical to the group’s sound or mission, in which case everyone wastes their time, so actually visualizing where you and your music belong counts for a lot in this process. Next, do you know performers in the group? People close to it? The more contact you have with the group in question, the better chance you have to get your music played.

But wait, THAT’S NOT THE POINT! I know it sometimes seems like the point, but it’s not, trust me. At least for this humble participant in the arts, the point of what we do is cultivating and building relationships. Between Composer and Performer, between Performer and Presenter, between Presenter and Audience, and all the possible permutations thereof. These relationships are the way by which we create fertile environments for furthering and experiencing art-based music. The most successful composers are the most aware and involved composers, interested not only in how their music gets performed, but how it reinforces the performers, the series on which it is programmed, the greater scene, new music in general. They align themselves with the entire infrastructure of their business. Extend your vision past the obvious to make connections that will grow through time, a ” ’til death do you part” kinda thing. What happens when a relationship is developed between a composer and a performer is music and performance that is organic and full of the spirit of that relationship. It is infectious to an audience when they watch and listen to organic development. They may not be able to explain it, but they notice it. In fact, that’s what they buy tickets to see. Case in point, take a look at how much you watch the food network. Hmmmm…

That said, here are some nuts and bolts on presenting your work to an ensemble once you’ve decided it looks like a win-win relationship situation for the both of you.

1. Ask an ensemble exactly what materials they would like in order to experience your music. A score, CD, or both? Ensembles are usually pretty specific about what they need to suss out a composer or piece. Most often groups would like to hear the music, so send that recording. I think one of the most important uses of money for us is documentation of our work. Whenever you have a premiere, be sure it is recorded and recorded well—professionally if possible. If the piece has not had a premiere, ask the ensemble if a high-quality MIDI realization would be acceptable. With our band, Ethel, we need to hear an audio file, even if it’s a MIDI realization. Sometimes I even have a composer send me their Sibelius or Finale files via email and I’ll play it directly from the computer. Given our touring schedule, sitting down to actually read everything that is sent to us in a timely manner is a luxury we currently don’t have. In order to do so, we have to actually schedule a day to do it. A listening session, however, can take place in a van or airplane moving from gig to gig.

At this point I can’t help mentioning how indispensable the Internet is as a tool for circulation. If you’re not already familiar, learn how to post MP3’s on your own website or on an independent server. It makes distribution of work samples faster and easier both for you and for those researching your work, and it shows you to be professional and well equipped for business dealings.

2. Contact the leader of the band (if and only if you actually know who he/she is, otherwise you start the conversation out in quicksand, barking up someone’s wrong tree). Sometimes there are no leaders and the first thing you get is a frown if you’ve made an incorrect assumption. Also, “cold-calling” or contacting with no reference and no prior knowledge or meeting should be avoided. It is easier for everyone when you go in with a recommendation or introduction from someone already close to the band, and when you know what hierarchy exists with regard to creative and artistic decision-making.

Don’t know anyone who can make that first introduction? This need not close doors for you. One of the things you can do to support yourself, your learning, and your composition, is to attend the concerts of people and ensembles you are interested in. Becoming part of a community by support and participation is a contribution of the highest order, and it is the single most important action you can take. When you’ve succeeded in establishing a relationship based upon nothing but human conversation, then the answers to the questions above start getting easier and you can hand a band exactly what they need to get to know you. In fact, with the relationship as the goal rather than the securing of a particular performance for your piece, the conversation can even turn to who might best perform and enjoy your tune, even if this particular ensemble is not the right match.

3. Regarding how to handle the relationship without pestering and becoming a nudge: After contact has been made and materials sent, I find that it’s always good to set up a framework to manage future expectations. For example, you might say, “How about I give you a call in a couple of weeks, would that work for you? Or would a longer timeframe be better?” Be specific so that everyone knows what to expect and feels less in limbo. Now, if the group is vague and says, “We’ll have to get back to you…probably can’t address this for a month or two,” you might respond by saying, “Fine, I’ll wait to hear from you at the end of February.” At the end of the two months, if you haven’t heard from them, send out the dogs with a private investigator if you can afford it.

Just kidding. Don’t turn into the ‘composer/stalker’. Instead, just continue to develop the relationship outside of the conversation about your own work. Continue to go to concerts and hang out. Perhaps let another month go by and send one more email to give more options, like, “After the last conversation we had about ‘blah’, I remembered that we were going to be in touch around this time. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t dropped the ball on that. Let’s talk soon. If your decisions have become more firm or if you still have some questions, I’m happy to hear either way, and would love to ‘complete’ the conversation in one way or the other.” Whatever the choice people make, continue to support and cultivate the relationships you have created!

4. If (I should say when) you get a performance, your work is not over—this is a relationship and you are only through the first few dates! Offer to give pre-concert talks, attend receptions, give away the store to establish a presence with the presenter and with the group. Support your piece. If finances are an issue, get to know the granting programs that support appearances and build a little nest egg from your bartending gig—don’t laugh! I did it when I was starting out—for a plane ticket to that particular out-of-town performance where it will be important to meet that “essential composer” colleague or presenter. It used to be that there was this heard-not-seen composer stereotype that everyone subscribed to and it was sort of understood. We no longer live in an ivory tower. These days the individuals are appreciated more than their function, so it’s important to portray oneself as a part of the team, to actually be there and to be great.

Of course, at the same time, it’s important not to be overbearing. So, for instance… Send your parts, send the score, then follow up with the conductor, librarian, or someone from the ensemble and let them know that you’d be interested and available for a phone conversation just to make sure that everything is in place. If this goes ignored, well, you did your part. Wouldn’t want to belabor it.

5. About one month after a performance, request a phone meeting with whoever you feel closest to in the performing and presenting organizations and propose a brainstorming session on how to use the performance and the piece to raise visibility for both parties. Perhaps you both can post links to each other’s websites on your own sites or even a streaming audio version of the performance. Perhaps a residency or a commission might be discussed for a few years down the line? And if it feels appropriate, and as the last question, you can ask if there are other ensembles or series where the piece might also be appropriately placed.

Once you have had a successful performance and you’ve started all kinds of relationships with everyone in the performing and presenting organization, it’s important to simply keep in touch. Long ago I started an e-mail newsletter that could be easily opted out of by those it was sent to. Every couple of months I send out a note with updates concerning performances and activities. This simply serves to keep relationships current.

I hope that these ideas are helpful. I realize I am one of many composers who are qualified to provide ideas and guidance as the result of personal and professional experience, so seek out your colleagues and teachers for additional advice. Above all, however, use these nuts and bolts to create for yourself an image and spirit of “composer as team member.” Become an integrated part of the music scene rather than thinking of yourself as an outsider who has to fight to get your music played. As a composer myself and a co-founder of a band who plays exclusively new music, I can easily say that without the composers who write the music I play, I don’t have a gig. If we develop our own inherent suspicion that we’re all connected and that everything we do impacts others, perhaps we will gain more and more access to a greater population of listeners with our music, thus offering our passionate, enlivening and healing art more extensively to the world.

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Todd Reynolds
Photo by Gerard Barnier

Todd Reynolds, violinist/composer/conductor/lecturer, is a fixture on New York’s downtown scene. A longtime member of Bang On A Can and The Steve Reich Ensemble, and a co-founder of the string quartet known as Ethel, his career has focused on the commissioning, recording and performing of works by American and international composers, including the likes of Michael Gordon, Steve Reich, David Lang, John King, Julia Wolfe, Evan Ziporyn, Giovanni Sollima, Wu Tong, Phil Kline, and Randall Wolff. His ‘Nuove Uova’ and Still Life with Microphone projects, featuring Evan Ziporyn, Theo Bleckmann and David Cossin were most recently featured at Joe’s Pub and The Whitney Museum at Altria, and his electronic performance is featured on Phil Kline’s Zippo Songs, a cantaloupe music release which won Best of 2004 from Gramophone, Time Out New York, and the New York Times.

Starting and Running a Composers’ Collective

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“If You Don’t Like the News, Go Out and Make Some of Your Own”

The above catchphrase was coined by San Francisco’s own Zen journalist, Wes “Scoop” Nisker, and pretty well sums up the activist impulse that I’m sure many have felt when starting a composers’ collective, whatever its nature. When I founded the Common Sense Composers’ Collective in 1993 I didn’t know at the time that the eight of us—John Halle, Ed Harsh, Melissa Hui, Marc Mellits, Belinda Reynolds, Randy Woolf, Carolyn Yarnell, and myself—would stay together beyond our first project. However, our collaboration with a ten-piece ensemble resulted in a pair of deliriously joyful premiere concerts in June of 1994, and so we decided to solidify our organization and move forward with other projects. The main modus operandi of our group is to find a new performing ensemble every year, one that likes the idea of working with a group of eight composers. Through a collaborative, workshop-oriented approach, we tailor-make a set of new works for each year’s ensemble. The culminating shows, usually 70-plus minutes of new music, are always as much of a victory party as they are a music concert.

While I would never want to make any special claims to wisdom in regard to operating a composers’ collective, I’m delighted to share some of the lessons we’ve learned since 1993.

TEN RECOMMENDATIONS FOR ASPIRING COMPOSERS’ COLLECTIVES

1. Do Your Homework

It’s not a bad idea to get some context; to survey the lay of the land. In my own case back in 1993, it meant focusing my grad school thesis on “Composer Led Organizations of the 20th Century”. At the very same time that we were organizing our first Common Sense project, I was steeped in research, digging through the collections at Yale University’s Oral History, American Music project and Lincoln Center’s Performing Arts Library. The bulk of my own investigations focused on two major organizations: The International Composer’s Guild, founded by Edgard Varèse in the early 1920s (the first of its kind); and Bang on a Can. In addition to those “bookends” of the 20th century, I briefly researched many other organizations, including the League of Composers, the New Music Society, the American Composers Forum (then the Minnesota Composers Forum), The American Composers Alliance, and the American Music Center. Not only was it instructive to learn the vital statistics of so many different groups, but I experienced a special glee when coming across accounts of that “moment” when one or more individuals changed their position from one of passive reaction to dynamic action. All in all, it was a tremendously useful endeavor.

These days, of course, with the web and so many new composers’ collectives sprouting up, information is just a few keystrokes, an e-mail, or a telephone call away. Don’t be shy. Contact other groups and ask lots of questions. People generally love to give advice.

2. Have a Sense of Mission

Very early on in the life of your group, you’ll need to go through the process of creating a Mission Statement. But I’ve used the above heading very deliberately, because more important than a sexy mission statement is to actually have a sense of mission behind it!

I confess that I sometimes see the creation of a Mission Statement as more of a marketing exercise than a true reflection of a group’s real passions, philosophies, and reasons for being. So hopefully before you create that verbiage designed to be attractive to funders and foundations, you’ve truly clarified for yourself just why you’ve joined together with some of your colleagues to pursue work as a Collective.

In our own case, there were several motivating factors that went into our formation. First of all, we had strong notions about the nature and power of group work. Also very important was our interest in experimenting with the processes by which new compositions enter the world, hence the emphasis on collaboration and workshopping.

But the specific sense of mission will be different for every aspiring collective. It might simply be a belief in the power of numbers, or a desire to work with your friends, or the passion to promote a particular stylistic stream of thought, or, if you are performing composers it may be a desire to create an ensemble in order to play each other’s work. Regardless, the most important thing is that there’s something there to generate the passion and energy you’ll need to draw on for all the work that lies ahead.

3. Be Sure To Be a “Collective”, Not Just a “Collection”

There is one very essential question for any aspiring collective: WHO are the composers in your group, and HOW and WHY did you come together?

I believe that there has to be something that unites your group. In our own case, since we’re a “founder-led” collective, all the members are composers I was a fan of back in 1993 and invited to take part in our pilot project. I’m very consciously using the word “fan” here, because it implies for me an immense attraction to the music that circumvents my rational and critical thought processes. I simply loved their work. I felt we were kindred spirits on some intangible aesthetic level. There’s lots of music that I “respect” tremendously but that I’m not a “fan” of, and vice versa. So the leap of faith was in hoping that the intangible connection that I felt would manifest itself when presenting a group concert of our works. (And I must say that I’ve come to believe that it does.) While it was natural that this approach brought together several of us who share some stylistic similarities, it’s certainly not true of all of us! The important thing that I want to share here is that the “kindred spirit” aspect came first. Issues of style, or whether some of us had higher public profiles than others, etc., were not the driving factors. Every aspiring collective will have its own evolution in terms of membership, but some sort of personal, philosophical, or aesthetic kinship needs to exist at its core.

4. Communicate, Communicate, Communicate

This might seem obvious, but in my experience conflicts in any artistic endeavor can ultimately be boiled down to problems in communication. In our case, we must communicate successfully both between ourselves, and also with our annual collaborating partner. This is especially challenging when a project is nearing comp
letion, and all parties converge in one location for a last string of intense rehearsals and the premiere concerts. Whether it’s an issue of artistic interpretation, a question about travel expenses, or a clear understanding of everyone’s tasks and responsibilities, the more you can maximize communication and minimize surprises, the better.

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The Common Sense Composers’ Collective
Photo by Robin Holland

5. Hierarchies Are a Good Thing, Even In a Collective

The word ‘collective’ might conjure up a situation where there’s an equal distribution of tasks and responsibilities, but you’ll probably find out very soon that the reality will be very different. If the group is the brainchild of one particular member, then there’s a good chance that person will be doing much of the heavy lifting. After some naïve and unsuccessful approaches of our own, I became a firm believer in the necessity of hierarchies for any kind of organization. If you’re the founder, while you can hope to inspire your colleagues to support your vision for the group, that vision will likely never be as deep or as fundamental to them as it is to you.

My own challenge as the leader of Common Sense has been to try and find out just what each member’s commitment level is, just what tasks and responsibilities each one is willing to take on in different situations, and, most crucially, to define the bare minimum requirements for all members. This has taken several years to work out, and will always be in process, but I feel we get closer and closer each year to the smoothest possible working situation. Some members of Common Sense will jump on administrative duties with gusto; some others have closer ties to media outlets and are willing to hustle a bit there; and there are others who want to focus as much as possible on the creative aspects of the projects. It is a challenge to try and honor these limits while continually trying to stretch everyone’s comfort range in order to better share the load. This is another area where communication becomes crucial.

6. Seek A Balance Between Group Work and Individual Work

The odds are that your collective will be only one part of each of your members’ musical lives. There’s no conflict with participating in group projects while at the same time cultivating a personal professional life in the music world. Each of us in Common Sense has carved out an individual path that we naturally devote much time to. (I am purposely avoiding the word ‘career’ here, an expression I hate when applied to artists.) But I think I can speak for everyone in the group when I say that the more experience we have in a variety of other professional situations, whether composing or teaching or fundraising, the more we’ve come to value, even treasure, our yearly projects together.

7. Funding the First Couple Years: Pull Out that Christmas Card List

There’s a bit of a Catch-22 built into the funding situation for new arts groups. At least back in the early ’90s, most foundations required a group to have been in existence for at least two years before they were eligible to apply for foundation support. So how do you fund those first couple years of work?

This is where I was advised about what many call the “Christmas Card List”. This comprises immediate and extended family and devoted friends—your “tribe” so to speak—of supporters. These are people who know you and support your goals and might donate some money to help fund those first couple years of work. If you’re lucky enough to find an “angel” to contribute a significant sum for your first projects, fantastic. Otherwise you need to get creative. In our own case, our first project occurred less than one month before fellow Common Sense colleague Belinda Reynolds and I got married. Rather than the traditional registry of desired wedding presents, we asked instead for contributions for our recently produced concerts. It worked, and we never regretted not receiving those toasters or coffee makers. (For those relatives that insisted on buying us something concrete, we also got creative and registered at Sweetwater Sound, acquiring some long-needed audio gear.)

The other part of the strategy is simply to scale your first projects to be as economically efficient as possible, which may mean using smaller ensembles, less expensive venues, etc. It’s also a good time to call in any favors you may have built up over the years. If you’ve generated a reservoir of good will, now’s the time to utilize it. (Or to paraphrase George W. Bush, if you’ve earned any “artistic capital”, now’s the time to spend it.)

8. Gotta Do It: Learn the Business and Legal Basics

One of the first things you’ll need to do once you seriously commit to keeping your collective going is to figure out how you can receive tax-deductible donations from both individuals and foundations. You’ll probably begin the process of becoming your own 501(c)(3) tax-exempt corporation, but that takes time. So what do you do in the short term? The path that many groups take is to find a “fiscal sponsor”. If you take this route, your group finds a larger 501(c)(3) organization willing to sponsor your grant applications, accept individual donations on your behalf, and keep a bank account under your name. They’ll take a cut of all the money you receive, probably somewhere around 10 percent. Depending who you talk to, fiscal sponsorship is either a wonderful and streamlined way for a new group to begin their work under a non-profit umbrella, or it is a suspect and shady gray area of the tax code that is doomed to be eliminated tomorrow. Common Sense used a fiscal sponsor for several years, and without going into a particularly involved war story, we experienced both the best and the worst of this kind of relationship.

To become your own 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization, you’ll need to start an involved process, which can seem very daunting at first. Roughly, the steps will be as follows: you’ll name a board of directors, you’ll write a set of By-Laws and then you’ll apply for your Articles of Incorporation. Once you’ve become incorporated, you’ll go through the IRS process of applying for tax-exempt status. It can be a lot of work that’s very removed from all your creative passions, but it doesn’t have to be a complete chore. One of my fondest memories is sitting in the back yard of comrade John Halle’s New Haven home, along with fellow members Ed Harsh and Belinda Reynolds. We were using a worksheet that was designed to help organizations create their By-Laws, and the long process of talking over each of these issues turned into an intense, engaging, and ultimately enjoyable afternoon. I can’t even imagine having done this without the collaboration of my Common Sense colleagues.

9. Create Limits, But Be Prepared to Be Flexible

I am personally amazed at, for example, the range of activities that the folks at Bang on a Can have developed over the years: the Marathon, the All-Stars ensemble, the SPIT orchestra, a record label, and a summer institute. And I’m sure I am missing something.

It’s important to decide how ambitious you wan
t your collective to be. Live performances? Touring? Recordings? Web sites? Publishing? Festivals? In our own case, the cyclic nature of our yearly collaborations has a nice rhythm built into it. Our goals are actually simple and very clear: we want to continue (and broaden) these collaborations and we’d like to eventually have the results of each one commercially recorded to disc. We do have a website, and we also put the word out about the 60-plus pieces we’ve composed over the years, but our main focus is on each new collaboration and its eventual recording. There was a period when we ventured into the world of producing a new music marathon in the Bay Area entitled OPUS415. The five annual Marathons we produced were exciting, useful, and very successful events, but we came to realize that it took time, money, and energy away from our main mission, which was losing some of our needed attention and focus.

This issue of limits is also very dependent on the direction that the personal lives of your members are taking. For example, the most wonderful thing that has happened to our collective in the last few years is that five out of eight of us have become first-time parents. We are turning into quite the extended family, and with the new additions have come new demands on our time and adjustments to our professional lifestyles.

10. Final Thoughts

While it might seem like a strange way to end this article, I thought I’d share a list of five attributes that—it is suggested—any person or group should consider cultivating in order to achieve success. This is from a book on esoteric Buddhism and I haven’t been able to get them out of my mind since I began writing this article. And since they address many of the issues I’ve discussed above from a somewhat different angle (and because I find them endlessly inspiring and valuable), I thought I’d share them here.

The five attributes to cultivate for success are:

  1. Consecration of motive
  2. Utter fearlessness
  3. The cultivation of the imagination balanced wisely by the reasoning faculty
  4. A capacity to weigh the evidence wisely, and to accept only that which is compatible with the highest instinct and intuition
  5. A willingness to experiment

***

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Dan Becker
Photo by Alec Duncan

Dan Becker is the Founder and Artistic Director of the Common Sense Composers’ Collective. Since 1993 the collective has collaborated with such ensembles as the Alternate Currents Performance Ensemble, the American Baroque Ensemble, Twisted Tutu, the Meridian Arts Ensemble, Albany Symphony’s Dogs of Desire, the New Millennium Ensemble, and Essential Music. They have released two CDs, the most recent, The Shock of the Old, received a 2003 Chamber Music America/WQXR Record award. Their third CD, with the New Millennium Ensemble, will be released next year. Upcoming collaborations include those with Michelle Schumann of Austin’s Barbwire Music Project, and the ensemble Electra from Amsterdam—a project which will mark their first Trans-Atlantic collaboration. Becker teaches Composition at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music and serves on the American Music Center’s Board of Directors.

Writing a Concerto

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Most young composers who are interested in writing ambitious, large-scale works for orchestra are familiar with the pitfalls of the flashy four to six minute concert opener/curtain-raiser. It’s the piece designed to “show off your talents,” “get your foot in the door,” and (by inference but never promise) lead to a performance of your big symphony or evening-length oratorio “somewhere down the road.” Well, maybe, but by your works shall you be known, and now you’re known as the person who writes five-minute sprees. Sometimes the only thing having your foot in the door gets you is a couple of broken toes.

So, is no one interested in ambitious, large-scale orchestral writing by untried talent? Must you have had a childhood friend who grew up to be a highly successful conductor just to get the time of day from someone in this field? Not necessarily. Next time you check out your local symphony, look carefully at the stage. Il maestro is not the only one up there.

OPPORTUNITY
When I was Director of Education for the Portland Symphony Orchestra I had the opportunity to meet many of the soloists who came through town to perform with them. For every pianist or violinist who, upon meeting the composer, suddenly remembered a pressing engagement elsewhere in the room, there would be a cellist, flutist, or percussionist who would graciously ask me if I had written anything for their instrument. These performers, while perhaps not engaged in the ceaseless touring of their more glamorous brethren, possessed a passionate sense of mission regarding the creation of new repertoire for their instruments. Many also have regular solo performance opportunities, a large network of colleagues, and teaching studios full of promising young talent.

Even the most regularly performed self-representing composer will tell you there is no substitute for an enthusiastic third party endorsement. When a gifted instrumentalist tells a music director they regularly work with that they’d like to perform a concerto being written for them by you, then you are much more likely to get a performance.

It was just such a scenario that led me to the composition of my Viola Concerto in 2002. In 2001, the Potomac String Quartet and mezzo-soprano Patricia Green recorded my song cycle, Käthe Kollwitz, for the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. When the recording session and subsequent performance were finished, the violist in the quartet, Tsuna Sakamoto, asked me if I had written anything specifically for her instrument. When I told her I had not she offered that, although she was scheduled to solo with the Eclipse Chamber Orchestra in 2002, she would see about getting the date moved to 2003 if that would give me enough time to write a piece for her. She then proposed the collaboration to Eclipse Music Director and Conductor Sylvia Alimena who, because of her own trust in Tsuna’s judgment, gave us the green light.

PREPARATION
When I told my friend Don Wheelock that I was beginning work on a viola concerto, he said (no doubt with visions of Bartok and Walton dancing in his head), “A viola concerto, huh? Well, you don’t want to write a bad one!” Once I finished wondering what it must be like to actually study with Don while still young, the meaning of his words started going to work on me. An effective concerto is a thing unto itself, with demands and considerations quite different from other of orchestral undertakings. Whatever else a composer may wish to convey in this genre, the heart of a concerto is the relationship between the soloist and the orchestra. Every episode and gesture must have some bearing upon that relationship. Technical decisions need to be made solely in the service of articulating it in audibly meaningful ways, with the overarching goal of shaping a compelling musical narrative.

Embarking on a large-scale work with a looming deadline will require you to be very conscious of your own working methods. The combination of a little pre-planning and a little experimentation will serve you well. For instance, I am well aware that there are many composers for whom the acquisition of a hands-on knowledge of a given instrument’s capabilities is essential to getting a handle on a new piece. They can cite alternate oboe fingerings chapter and verse and are fluent in the most arcane aspects of bowing technique. The first thing that writing my own concerto taught me is that I am not one of them. I know this because before committing a single note to paper, I went out and rented a viola.

With the idea of painstakingly mapping out heretofore-undiscovered quadruple stopped artificial harmonics, I returned to my studio, tucked the instrument under my chin and had what I believe is referred to in medical circles as a “panic attack.” Staring down the fingerboard of the instrument for which I was expected to be writing virtuoso music was a bit too up close and personal—something like eating a yummy cheeseburger in the presence of a cow. A bit of detachment was called for.

COLLABORATION
I swallowed my pride and called Tsuna, who thought all this was very funny. She assured me that actually playing the concerto would be her problem. If I didn’t feel I had the time to become a violist myself then I should just write what sounded good to me, be it quadruple stops or open strings. Once a finished solo part was in hand, if changes were called for we could talk about them.


Here are two virtuosic solo passages in which I followed Tsuna’s advice. The first is from Movement III (Saeta). It’s based on both open and stopped perfect 5ths, coupled with some portamento effects. In terms of execution double-stopped fifths on viola can be somewhat awkward. Since Tsuna liked the sound of the passage she suggested that, rather than change any notes, a free approach to tempo was the key, so I scored the accompaniment accordingly. The second passage is from Movement IV (Roundel). It consists of a skipping pattern in 4ths and 5ths that employs adjacent open strings to reinforce a pattern of shifting accents. In this case the notes themselves present no particular technical challenges. Thus the players are in a good position to focus their attention on nailing the passage’s rhythmic challenges at the correct tempo.

LISTEN to:

 


Because Tsuna had easier access to a stereo than to an accompanist, we decided that instead of a piano reduction I would do a MIDI mock-up of the concerto for her. While mock-ups have the
ir drawbacks, I’ve found that, in the case of a first performance, these are outweighed by their ability to give a soloist a rough sense of what is going to be coming at him/her from the stage. Of course a MIDI demo can also occasionally give others a chance to second-guess your decisions. While I try to keep an open mind when this happens, I usually explain that a MIDI demo isn’t really for hearing what a piece will sound like—it’s for getting a sense of how it “goes.” In other words, it’s a highly effective tool for quickly putting across the architecture of a work—particularly one of some length—in terms of pacing and tempo.

Ultimately for me, working with a soloist added a collaborative dimension to the normally solitary process of orchestral composition that I found refreshing. I learned a great deal about the orchestra from a new perspective and the orchestra/soloist relationship provided a ready-made focus for ideas about form and musical narrative. And Tsuna’s commitment to making everything in the solo part sing, down to the smallest detail, was a real inspiration.

When you add the conductor to the equation the creative dynamic is a lot like the one you would have working in film. In composing a concerto for a specific performer, the composer is like a writer/director creating a leading role for an actor or actress whom he admires. He is as interested in hearing how she reads the lines as he is in the lines themselves. He wants to know what aspects of the way she thinks about the story will help to tell the story. The role of the conductor is analogous to that of the cinematographer. She must light and shoot the picture in a manner appropriate to the material, but at the same time she has to be the one who tells the director, “We can’t move that wall and we’re losing the light. We need to shoot around it.”


This passage is from Movement I (Arioso). It’s the first orchestral tutti in the piece. In the score the last bar of the climax is marked forte. This is followed by the re-entry of the solo viola, marked forte cantabile. At the first rehearsal Sylvia told the orchestra to add a diminuendo to the forte in the bar before the solo viola’s re-entry. While this sounded fine, I indicated that it was not the effect I was after. Sylvia assured me that in the very resonant acoustic of the Bradley Hills Presbyterian Church, the effect I was after would completely cover the first bar of Tsuna’s entrance. In this case everyone’s hard work benefited from the conductor not just knowing the score, but also knowing the space that she’d be performing it in.

LISTEN to Audio Sample 3


BALANCE
Once I began sending pages to Tsuna, my feeling of liberation regarding a viable approach to the solo part was gradually replaced by a mounting concern with exactly how one balances said part against an orchestra 40-odd players strong. Writing a 37-minute Rihm-ian meditation on the top third of the A string was an option, but not one that I honestly felt did justice to either my own musical temperament or the opportunity at hand. And while many a well-known concerto accompaniment consists of pianissimo tied whole notes enlivened by the occasional tutti outburst, I knew that I wanted to take full advantage of the caliber of playing represented within the Eclipse Chamber Orchestra.


When I asked Sylvia what aspects of the Eclipse Chamber Orchestra I might consider highlighting in my writing, one of the things she said was “We’re a chamber orchestra, but we can get you a big sound.” Here’s the penultimate climax of the first movement. The orchestra consists of single winds, two horns, trumpet, trombone, timpani, harp (not playing in this passage) and strings (55432).

LISTEN to Audio Sample 4


In the end, the thing that best helped me to grasp the acoustical (if not the aesthetic) fundamentals of pitting an instrumental soloist against a large ensemble was to attend, score in hand, rehearsals of my own local symphony. On Sunday afternoons, the Portland Symphony Orchestra runs through the accompaniment of that week’s concerto without the soloist present. Returning the following night for dress rehearsal, I’d hear the work rehearsed again, this time with the soloist. This experience was enlightening in the extreme and I cannot recommend it highly enough. I learned that there are things that look on the page like they will never balance in the concert hall but that come off beautifully and then there are things that will knock your socks off in a recording that are essentially impossible to pull off live. These are just as often issues of ensemble as of balance.

ENSEMBLE
After balance, handling issues of ensemble between soloist and orchestra is probably the most critical factor in determining the effectiveness of a given passage. Duets between the soloist and members of the orchestra, as well as varieties of call and response-type writing, can be very effective in the context of a concerto, but one needs to give serious consideration to the actual placement of the instruments onstage when contemplating such devices. A duet featuring rapid repeated notes between the soloist and a member of the orchestra that is entirely feasible when the two performers are standing next to each other can become an exercise in un-wanted phase shifting when a distance of 15 or 20 feet separates them.


Here is one such potentially dangerous passage from Movement II (Toccata). In it, I used displaced accents to create a feeling of four (in the solo viola) against three (in the violas, ‘celli, basses and timpani). The key here is getting a lock on the 16th-note pulse and then place the accents with total confidence. I love how Tsuna plays this…

LISTEN to Audio Sample 5


I love the combination of strings and timpani, so in the second and third movements of this concerto I wanted to have moments where the solo viola and timpani would perform brief, virtuosic duets. Given the distance normally separating the soloist from the timpanist, these passages required special attention during rehearsals.

Under any circumstances, the ability of a timpanist to hear what a string soloist is doing while executing a complicated part of his or her own would be a real challenge. Adding to the pressure here was the fact that while two of the rehearsals took place in a very dry rehearsal room at the Kennedy Center, the dress rehear
sal and performance were to take place in a very resonant church in Bethesda. The solution the performers arrived at was for Sylvia to lock in on Tsuna’s tempo and convey that tempo to timpanist Doug Wallace. Using hard (but not wooden) mallets, Doug then played his part slightly closer to the center of the drumheads than he normally would. This cut down on the amount of ring-through from his drums and kept them from washing out the equally intricate viola part.


Here’s how it sounded:
LISTEN to:

 


REHEARSING
Everyone reading this is well aware of the time constraints and pressures associated with rehearsing a new orchestral work. The reality is that there are going to be non-musical issues (some unforeseen, others not) that to some extent will dictate the artistic and logistical choices your performers have to make. The key here is to make sure that you yourself do not become one of these issues. In rehearsal, refrain from commenting on wrong notes or inaccurate entrances until you’ve heard them a second time. The first time through a new piece even the best players are going to miss a note here or an entrance there. And trust me—you do not want to have the experience of a conductor patiently explaining this fact to you in front of the orchestra.

Also keep in mind that when the same mistake crops up more than once, it often means that there’s something wrong with, or unclear about, your parts. Clean mistake-free parts will go a very long way towards earning you the trust of your performers. This trust, which in an orchestral setting must be established quickly, will in no small way inspire the people on stage to go to whatever lengths are necessary to breathe expressive life into your music. A performer’s willingness to arrive at the perfect bowing, the sassiest brass mute, the subtlest wind articulation, or the ideal weight and size of suspended cymbal are not just matters of professionalism. They are also a function of their belief that you have something unique to communicate through your music. This can be one of the greatest rewards of working with an orchestra. There is simply no reason to jeopardize it with clerical inaccuracies.

Graphic clarity is also vital because, much to your surprise, some of your musical intentions will be in no way obvious to anyone except you on the first or second attempt. When the conductor turns to you in rehearsal and asks, “What do you mean here?” the relationship between what you explain and what the performers are looking at on the stands in front of them must be clear. In a concerto you are casting the members of the orchestra in a supporting role to one of their friends and colleagues. No one should feel they are being asked to step outside that role without a compelling and well-articulated musical reason.


One effect that I wanted to achieve in the third movement was having Tsuna’s part move at a steady tempo while the orchestra seems to gradually slow down and speed up underneath her. My notational solution was one that looked more complicated on the page than it was to pull off in reality. After a couple of times through people could hear what was happening and really started getting in to it. They no longer felt like they were being asked to make it sound as if the whole orchestra was getting lost and falling apart!

LISTEN to Audio Sample 8


And finally, do yourself a favor. Assuming that your parts are mistake-free, DO NOT freak out over a wrong note or an inaccurate entrance during the course of a performance. One of the biggest things that I have learned in the last ten years of working with orchestras on the preparation of my music is that, in the context of a professional performance, correct tempos are more important than correct pitches in getting a meaningful overall impression of your piece across to an audience.

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I think it’s a shame that many (if not all) orchestral reading opportunities and competitions exclude concertos and orchestral song-cycles from eligibility. Working with a solo instrumentalist or vocalist in an orchestral setting is one of the most valuable and enlightening artistic experiences a composer can have. And by bringing less familiar instruments and texts before large and attentive audiences, new works in these genres enrich the repertoire in ways uniquely their own. Best of all, they provide an opportunity for composers to build bridges to the orchestral world in collaboration with the artists who constitute the core constituency of that field.

There might not be any prizes for it, but the rewards are many.

 

Special thanks to Tsuna Sakamoto, Sylvia Alimena and the members of the Eclipse Chamber Orchestra for permission to use their archival recording of Tom Myron’s Viola Concerto in this article.

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Tom Myron

Tom Myron enjoys ongoing creative relationships with orchestras, chamber ensembles, soloists, choreographers, filmmakers and television producers from Maine to Mexico. Projects for 2005 include a new concerto for violinist Elisabeth Adkins and the Eclipse Chamber Orchestra, a recording studio collaboration with saxophonist James Merenda and the score for a film about Henry David Thoreau from Films by Huey. Tom Myron lives in Portland, Maine with his wife, Portland Museum of Art chief curator Jessica Nicoll, and their daughter, Vivian.

For Immediate Release!

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So, you’ve got an important concert this season. Or maybe there’s a new CD featuring your music… What’s the best way to get the word out about it? While many people these days send bulk emails to a list to spread the news about the latest developments in their career trajectories, the standard practice remains sending out a press release to members of the media (press, radio, TV, etc).

Writing press releases is not rocket science and the people who are likely to read your releases are not rocket scientists. Chances are they might be equally as busy, though, and their workspaces will possibly be even more cluttered. So, it’s important to state the information you are trying to disseminate in a plain and clear way while, at the same time, presenting your material in a way that will encourage your readers to read on. Over the years, many conventions have evolved for press release writing. While none of these are written in stone and breaking a few of them now and then won’t keep you out of the papers, the following overview should provide you with the right ammunition to write something effective and competitive with the piles of materials people in the media get deluged with on a daily basis.

Headline = News

Every press release should have a headline. This headline orients readers about what they are about to read. So, if your release is announcing a concert, the headline should clearly announce that it is for a concert. Headlines should contain something newsworthy, e.g. premiere information, an unusual collaboration, an unusual sized ensemble or duration (big or small) etc. If you can’t think of anything that’s newsworthy to write in your headline, chances are the person reading it won’t find anything newsworthy either and won’t spread the word about it.

Headlines should always avoid editorializing. No matter how strongly you might personally think it, “[INSERT NAME HERE] IS A GREAT COMPOSER” just doesn’t cut it as a headline! The people who are receiving this information from you take as much pride in formulating opinions about music as you do in creating music, so don’t invade their turf.

For the recipients of your press release (who are inevitably always on deadline), always remember that dates are crucial pieces of information and should always be included in a headline. Often the presence of a clearly visible date will determine whether or not something gets read or tossed in the trash. Listings editors like to include information about events every day of the year if possible, so if the date of your concert is a day without much other activity, you might just get in.

Venues are also frequently an important headline item and should usually be incorporated into the sentence somehow. If you’ve got a gig at Carnegie Hall, be loud and clear about it.

For a press release announcing a recording, there are fewer hard and fast rules, although label information is usually helpful. Someone who is not necessarily familiar with your work might be familiar with the label your music is on and decide whether or not to read on based on the association.

A headline should be: bold, all in capital letters (or at least in a larger font size than the rest of the text in the press release), centered on the page, and ideally fit on a single line. A headline that is several sentences long defeats the whole purpose of having a headline. Don’t forget that we’re living in a sound-byte culture and those sound-bytes are largely the creation of the media, which is where you’re sending this information (even though many prominent professional publicists ignore this). Remember, if you can’t summarize what your information is ultimately about in a one-line sentence, chances are someone reading it won’t be able to do so either, and there goes your chance at getting a listing, or getting a staff writer to justify writing about you to an editor with an even more limited attention span who, more than likely, couldn’t care less about so-called “new music.”

Sometimes, however, having a sub-headline can be a good way to get around how impossible it is to summarize information about a really important event. Most press releases sent out by major music industry institutions (e.g. orchestras, large concert venues, record companies) take advantage of these sub-headlines in the press releases they send out and use them as an opportunity to list important soloists, etc. Naming crucial collaborators up front in a sub-headline is a good way to keep people you’re working with happy too. Be judicious when using these sub-headlines though. I’ve seen press releases with five sub-headlines, I kid you not, and it looked like someone in the PR office was just making sure that no one involved in the concert would feel left out. It’s important to be diplomatic, but it’s not news. Sub-headlines should also be set off from the rest of the text by bolding, centering, larger fonts, etc. although never in caps, otherwise it competes with the headline.

While a well-written and clever headline will make ’em read on, be careful not to be too cute or too cryptic. And, above all, never misrepresent what you are promoting in the release. Anyone reading your press release who has some street smarts can smell a fake. Folks on the receiving end typically receive hundreds every month and have already “seen it all.” So hype is a dangerous ploy to use with someone in the media and frequently results in irritation rather than attention.

From a Lead Paragraph That Says It All to the Rest of the Release (What’s Left to Say?)

The first paragraph of your press release should contain all the relevant information about the event—what it is, who’s involved, when and where it’s taking place, etc.—the basic who, what, where, when from high school essay writing class, remembering to leave the how and why for the critics. (NOTE: It doesn’t matter that some of this information is already clearly stated in your headline; you still need to repeat it here. And, an additional good proofreading tip, make sure the information is exactly the same in both places!)

If you’re writing about a recording rather than a concert, make sure your opening paragraph includes titles of compositions on the disc, performers you want to highlight, label information, and a release date. Whether or not something has never been recorded before is important for something dating from before the 21st century, but if all the music was composed this year assume the reader already realizes that these are premiere recordings and don’t be patronizing.

Back when I used to write press releases for a living, I would always bold all the important pieces of information in the lead paragraph—such as date, time, venue, key people involved—so that those words would jump out from the prose and catch the reader’s eye. While this level of detail is probably not completely necessary, now that I’m on the receiving end of more press releases a day than most of you would probably ever want to read in a lifetime, I really appreciate it when I know someone took the time to make things easier, and most people on the receiving end of this information feel the same way.

The rest of the press release should provide the reader with some important ancillary information. It’s always good to write a sentence or two about each of the repertoire items being featured. Instrumentation, dates and durations of compositions are always appreciated as well as premiere status (a world premiere should obviously have made it into your headline and opening paragraph). Short direct quotes from the composer can sometimes be a nice touch and sometimes even wind
up getting quoted. A short biographical paragraph about the composer or performer, if only one is being featured, or just a sentence if it is several, is a good way to orient the reader who might not be completely familiar with the people involved. (But, remember, less is more. There’s no need for an entire C.V. here. It should be just the right amount to pique the reader into doing further research. Don’t give away everything.)

Lastly, make sure to include ticket prices and information about how to purchase tickets (e.g. box office, advance sales, etc) somewhere in the release. The jury is still out on whether ticket price information should be in the opening paragraph, but make sure it is prominently visible no matter where you include the information. And, of course, if the concert is free, that’s a fact you’re probably going to want to call particular attention to. Frequently, publications and other media outlets will look even more favorably on free events for listings. Although, bizarrely, the free events are the ones most often ignored by reviewers who can already get free tickets to almost any event. Go figure.

An effective press release should fit on one page. No matter how terrific a concert or a recording is, if the press release announcing it is 100 times longer than anything a journalist would ever be able to write, something’s out of whack here. Besides, no matter how well you staple something, staples can and do come off, especially on crowded desks filled with other people’s press releases. (Which is why the paper clip is information enemy number one.) Sometimes the information is too much for a single page and needs the additional pages. In this case, the back of the page can be used provided you clearly type the word OVER in the bottom right corner of the front page underneath the last word of text on that page. I type this with some trepidation, though, since I’ve had journalists call me when I was a publicist asking where the second page of a release was when it was clearly on the back of the page, I kid you not!

Of course, professional publicists in the industry will challenge me on this one-page rule and there are obviously exceptions. You can’t and shouldn’t be expected to announce an orchestra’s entire concert season in a one-page press release, although that information is probably better served as a pull out document that’s prefaced by a stand-alone one-pager announcing key events. Remember, no matter how great you think Henry James and Marcel Proust are, writers like Ernest Hemingway, or gasp, Jacqueline Susann, have many more readers.

Supporting Information (But don’t overdo it)

Along with the press release, you might want to send other things that will make the information you’re sending more appealing. I’m not talking about candy bars or T-shirts here, although, believe it or not, some folks insist on sending such things. (See above: “seen it all”) For concerts, high quality photographs of performers or a featured composer can be very helpful, and can help the chances of it getting a listing. (Don’t send your high school yearbook photo, please!) And, if you’re sending a release about a recording, please send a copy of the recording. Nothing is more irritating than getting advance notice about a recording and then not being able to hear it. I don’t care if the disc isn’t ready yet. Wait to send out the release then. Nobody will remember a press release about a recording that they’re not going to hear for another month.

Sometimes it’s even helpful to send along a recording with a concert release, especially if you’re sending it to a radio station. Although it may be belaboring the obvious to say this here, nothing helps someone get familiar with music faster than actually hearing it, and if you’re sending information to a radio station in the hopes that they’ll announce your concert, maybe they’ll even play some of your music.

But, always remember that too much of a good thing is no longer a good thing. If you send tons of photos, chances are you’re just wasting them and if you send your entire catalog of recordings, chances are the person at the receiving end won’t find the time to listen to any of them. Choose your supporting materials judiciously and they will act as effective ambassadors.

Details, details…

Aside from the actual text of the press release, there are still a few good auxiliary housekeeping procedures to keep in mind that make the difference between effective and ineffective communication. While a good bit of this might seem terribly obvious, I’ve deemed it worth stating here since over the years I’ve actually seen press releases that have ignored these items and were unsuccessful as a result.

Always include the name of a contact person along with a phone number and, ideally, an email address as well. That way, the person receiving your materials can call for more information if he or she is interested. More often than not, it is good for that contact person’s name not to be the same name as the featured composer or performer, otherwise it comes across as a vanity project. If you don’t have staff, get a friend to agree to have his or her name on your release. (Perhaps this is an area where a little hype is necessary after all.)

Organizational stationary is always better than a plain sheet of paper. This is true for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that something on unique and professional-looking letterhead stands out on a table cluttered with tons of pieces of paper. Also, that perceptual hype thing is true here once again. Something on professional-looking letterhead looks, well, professional.

So, now what?

OK. Finally, back to that wonderful project you want people to know about. You’ve finished reading thus far and therefore have mastered the esoteric art of press release writing and have now written the world’s most effective press release. However, a press release is only effective if you are able to get into the hands of the right people. So, who do you send it to?

Most major market newspapers in the country still have someone on-staff who exclusively covers classical music. Some even have someone who covers jazz, although in both areas the numbers have been in steady decline for years. Chances are, however, even if there is someone on staff who covers this stuff, “new music” is not that person’s primary interest. (Take heed of the above advice against being cryptic once more.) For the larger publications, make sure to send separate materials to everyone of the critics as well as the listings editor. Don’t assume they share information with each other ’cause they usually don’t! At the smaller publications, even if there is no one who covers this particular beat, most daily and weekly papers, even in the tiniest communities, have an entertainment or features editor who might be sympathetic to your cause, so sending something to that person is never a waste of time.

Most places in the country have a radio station that plays classical music and/or jazz at least some of the time even if the contemporary music played on that station is next to nil. While a station with a regular rotation of Boccherini and Spohr might not jump at the opportunity to play your new 12-tone composition for brass quintet and interactive electronics, there’s always the possibility that its performance will get announced in a public service announcement, especially if the station is an NPR affiliate or a college station that features local programming.

Television is always much more of a gamble. But who knows? If you’ve got an event you’re pushing that’s camera friendly you just might wind up on the local news.

If you live in a community, you should pretty much know what your media outlets are, although sometimes there’s a small weekly in a neighboring town that might have eluded you. If you feel like you might be out of touch with who’s covering what (and personnel changes happen all the time), most decently-
sized libraries contain up-to-date guides in the reference section that list all the media outlets (print, radio, and television) in any community in the country with addresses, phone numbers, etc.

Then, of course, there’s the Internet. With the wane of newspaper coverage and radio airplay for contemporary music, people all over the country have started up Web magazines, blogs and all sorts of things to try to fill the void. (After all, it’s why we started NewMusicBox.) Have Google, can search! Don’t underestimate the power such sites have to get out the word. Remember though, if you’re sending something to a web-based publication, web-based communication is often more effective than snail-mail. However, if you send someone in the media an email, please take advantage of the subject line. Media people receive hundreds of emails a day, so a subject header that says only “Concert” just doesn’t cut it, and obviously neither does one that says only “Hello” or nothing at all.

Remember that media outlets live and die by deadlines, so always be aware of them when sending press releases. There are few things more irritating to a music journalist than receiving news about an exciting concert that’s happening…tomorrow. Most people like to get information about something five to six weeks in advance. Longer than that, they’ll forget it. Shorter than that, they’ve already made plans to cover something else. Reminders closer to the date never hurt, but, like all things, be judicious. Daily emails to a journalist about a concert featuring one of your pieces will probably guarantee not only that the journalist won’t cover your concert, you’ll probably wind up in his or her spam filter as well. Phone calls can sometimes be helpful and welcome, but remember to respect the time constraints most people on the receiving end of your phone call have to work under and be polite. As in most forms of human interaction, civility is usually the best policy and can go a long way, especially if you want to build ongoing relationships with the media in the future.

If you’ve got a lot that’s going on with your music, you might even consider hiring a professional publicist. Not me, though, ever again. But that’s a whole different story!</p

Grant Applications: 5 Mistakes Not to Make

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Granters want to fund applicants; the funding process is not like a reality TV show that eliminates people for the fun of it. The hard part of all of this is to actually create the art—writing grant applications should just be a way to showcase what you do. So think positively, and follow the directions below.

 

Follow the Instructions

Yes, it seems very much like elementary school, but an unscientific survey of grantmaking organizations reports that not following the directions is at the heart of almost all grant application mistakes. Especially in today’s financial climate, the number of applicants is increasing and funding sources are overtaxed, so take special care to submit every piece of information that is asked for in the exact format it is requested. If you are asked to number the pages, do so. If you are asked for a bio, even if you are Milton Babbitt, submit one. You may or may not get a kind phone call alerting you to your error, and it could cost you: both your chance for the grant and the time you spent working on and mailing the application.

Failure to complete the application correctly could be attributable to any number of factors—from poorly written instructions to inattention on your part—so read carefully, several times, and don’t hesitate to contact the organization and ask questions if you need to. Granters don’t deduct points for asking for clarification when it’s needed. But if you are asked not to submit a spiral bound score, and you do so anyway, your whole application could justifiably be tossed out before it’s even been read. When there are 300 applicants for 25 grants, every detail matters.

If you’re not sure how to frame your content, or would just like some instruction on how to write a successful application for the program in question, it may be helpful to peruse previous proposals. Call the granting organization and ask if you can look at past applications that were funded.

Neatness Counts

The information you include on your application for funding may be the only thing the person or people doling out the grant money will ever know about you, so impressions are important. By the very fact that you are applying for funding, you’re making a statement that your project is important, so take appropriate care when formulating your project description and answering application questions. Prize-winning prose is not required, but your text needs to effectively express the reasons your project deserves a grant. A misspelled word might not doom your application, but sloppy proofreading would make any funder question how much care you will take when it comes to executing your project.

When it comes to submitting a score, there are additional considerations of binding, page numbering, etc. Neat and clean copies of professional quality are essential of course. The debate still continues over the personality of handwritten music vs. the formal sterility of computerized scores. Unless a particular submission style is requested (see “Follow the Instructions”), you’ll have to decide for yourself the format that best expresses your intentions. Then take a step back and ask yourself: Does this score look professional in every respect? Using a computer program by no means guarantees a perfect copy. Proofreading your score is as import as proofreading your application.

Leave Enough Time

While there may be something to performing under pressure, before you go this route with your grant application, reflect on how much fun the mad scramble to get your taxes done on April 15 was last year. Downloading hard to understand forms and looking for receipts at 4 a.m. was not amusing. Neither is almost completing a grant application the day before the deadline and realizing that the only guy who has the key to the filing cabinet with the last piece of info you need is off mountain climbing in Tibet.

Starting early and submitting your materials well in advance of the deadline arguably increases the chances you will get a grant, as it leaves time for calmly reading instructions and double checking your application, asking colleagues and the granting organization questions, and correcting your application should the granter notice you’ve left out an important piece of information.

If your dog eats your application, even a sympathetic granter will be unlikely to extend the deadline for you. Deadlines are final, unless otherwise noted. Submitting your application late is the easiest way to be disqualified from a grant. Be sure to understand what type of deadline it is: if it’s a postmark deadline (meaning it has to be stamped at the post office by that date), or a receipt deadline (it has to be in the hands of the granter by that date), or a rolling deadline (it can arrive anytime, although there may be start and end dates). Computerized applications that are emailed or sent through a website may have submit dates, when you must hit “send” or “submit” by a certain time.

Are You Eligible?

Not to dwell on the obvious, but review all the eligibility requirements carefully to make sure you qualify. No matter how interesting your project sounds, that won’t matter if it doesn’t coincide with the type of project the granter is looking to fund. If you’re struggling to make your project fit, your time may be better spent looking elsewhere. Make a habit of checking out the funding lists printed in the playbills of other performing organizations similar to your own work. Check out national information sources like The Foundation Center as well local organizations down to your local chamber of commerce or Rotary Club.

On the other hand, don’t be afraid to frame your project to stress its characteristics that match the grant you want. Lying is never acceptable, and altering your project just to get funding is likely not worth your while, but drawing clear attention to the aspects of your project that fall in line with the project—its educational component, for example, even if that is only one part of a larger initiative—is essential.

Dangerous to Assume

In all your dealings with a granting organization, be gracious. This begins the moment you consider applying for funding until after the results are in and you have or have not been selected. Yelling at or threatening a staff member is unlikely to make a granter say, “Gee, you know what, we made a mistake! You do deserve project support!” Do not assume that everyone knows who you are, or knows anything about your organization, your music director, or the famous soloist you’ve engaged.

In the end, even if you were not selected, your work may not be over. If you are convinced a particular grant is a good fit and you’d like to apply again in the future, it may be worth your while to call and ask why your project was not selected and request to see a sample of a successful application.

Panelists are generally influencial players in the field and sometimes participate in the granting process to keep abreast of what new work is up and coming. Whether or not your project gets funded, they may keep you and your application in mind for future opportunities if they like what they hear. More than once, panelists have looked up applicants independently after the panel finished its work. Making a great impression might benefit you in ways other than receiving a grant; the panel itself can be a way of networking.

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Though getting a rejection letter after taking time away from your art to fill out a tedious application can get really frustrating pretty quickly, recall that large organizations m
ay have one or more people on staff doing nothing but writing up proposals. Some patience will be required to get you through while you’re navigating the learning curve, but doors will start opening as you explore funding opportunities, speak with potential funders and artists, and fine tune your application chops.

Envisioning Transitioning—From 9-to-5er to Full-Time Composer

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Until the day arrives when the government wises up and subsidizes all those who create music, many composers are dependent on at least one other source of income in order to keep the notes flowing freely. Some composers teach. Others are gifted performers in their own right and fashion a living that way.

Quite a few music creators, however, follow in the footsteps of Charles Ives and have regular 9-to-5 employment wholly unrelated to the work they do as composers. The pay is steady, the hours good, and it sure is nice to have health insurance. But what about that Great American Symphony you keep meaning to write? It sits on your music stand, perpetually in sketch mode, beckoning when you walk in the door after a long day at the office. You gravitate towards it…but wait! Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon reruns are on TV tonight! You have to watch it. And, well, the symphony waits another day.

It may be tempting to walk into work, announce that your music simply cannot wait any longer, and bid adieu to your fellow co-workers. Indeed, it can be liberating and ultimately may provide you with the time you need to write. Before you take that job and shove it, though, there are a few things you might want to keep in mind.

Take inventory of your marketable skills. The skills and experience you learned on the job don’t suddenly vaporize the moment you quit. For instance, your mastery of Microsoft Office, knowledge of the intricacies of Quickbooks, and HTML wizardry may seem ordinary to you, but those talents could come in handy when you’re between pieces and want to earn a little extra cash. You may not want to think about going back into an office before you’ve even left, but it will prove useful down the road. Plus you’ll need those skills to maintain an effective office for sending scores, applying for grants, and updating your website.

Reach out to your network. You’ve developed circles of contacts in your workaday life—let people know where you’re headed, what you plan to be doing, and how to reach you. The same goes for performers, conductors, and other musicians that you know, especially those who have performed your music already. Organize your contacts in a logical way, whether it’s on your computer, PDA, or good old-fashioned black book. You never know where the next opportunity is going to come from, and the more people you can keep in touch with, the better.

Make a budget. When that steady paycheck disappears, you’ll still need to eat and pay the rent. What about loans, credit card payments, and other expenses that you incur on a regular basis? You may not need to live in a palace on Park Avenue, but think carefully about what you need to earn in order to live—and work—comfortably. After all, you may save money by sharing an apartment with three roommates, but will you be able to compose when one of them is playing the stereo, another is watching TV, and the third is gabbing on the phone? And speaking of earning income…

Keep track of expenses. You’re working for yourself now, which means greater freedom but also increased vigilance when it comes to spending your money. It’s definitely cool, but do you really need the latest iPod? And if you do need it, are you saving your receipt and categorizing it as a business expense? You should, if you are a legitimate composer. What about office supplies, that Finale software upgrade, and all you’ve spent in postage shipping your scores around the country? Business expense, business expense, and business expense. That means those items are tax-deductible come April 15. Travel and health insurance are also deductible. How about the time you took that conductor out for a $100 lunch, trying to convince him to program your latest opus? I’d recommend cheaper eats, but in any case, 50 percent of meals and entertainment are deductible. Keep all your receipts, and consider getting a separate credit card with perks that you use solely for business expenses. This makes it easy to keep business and personal purchases separate, and those frequent flier miles can come in handy the next time a struggling new-music ensemble can’t afford to pay your way to your premiere.

Plan ahead. So you’ve quit your job and you’re all set because you’ve got a nice fat commission that will occupy you day and night for the next four months. What about afterwards? What if the commission is postponed? Think about what you hope to achieve in the long-term—is there a particular ensemble you’ve always dreamed of writing for? After writing your 18th band piece, would you like to finally write that first string quartet? Cultivate those connections now, because definite plans could take a while to materialize. Always try to have something “in the pipeline.”

Keep to a schedule. It doesn’t matter what the schedule is, as long as it’s yours. Some composers feel most inspired in the morning, so they write until noon and then handle other affairs the rest of the day. Some are night owls and do their best work then. Some go days, weeks, or months without writing a note, and then produce pages of material in just a few days. Whatever works, but unless you’re truly a free spirit and can only create music when the inspiration hits just right, a regimen will probably do you good.

Know your worth. After you’ve contacted your network and let everyone know that you’re devoting more time to writing, you may actually find yourself deluged with commission offers. Or are they really “commissions”? Before you know it, you’ve agreed to write six different pieces for friends, relatives, your cat—all of which are artistically worthy projects but pay next to nothing. Composers with day jobs may undervalue themselves because they don’t “need” the money that may result from a commission—they are simply happy to write a piece and have it performed. When you are writing for your living, however, you need to budget your time and cash flow so that you have enough income at the right times. Consult others to see what the going rate is for a composer of your stature and experience so you can negotiate accordingly. Meet The Composer’s Commissioning Music: A Basic Guide is another good resource. Consider both the tangibles (money, number of performances, approximate time commitment) and the intangibles (possible exposure, new contacts, artistic worth of the project) before making a decision about an offer.

Be a “composer plus.” When you had that day job, it was all you could do to squeeze in the time just to write. What about the other things that can make a performance special—and lead to increased visibility and connections for you down the road? Do you conduct or teach? Perform? Explore the possibility of transforming your commissions or performances into mini-residencies, with you at the center of the action. Now you can take the time to be an active participant in the performance of your music. Often additional funding is available for these activities.

Market your existing catalog. Make your music work for you and keep the cycle of performances going. Now is the time to shop your music around and generate those elusive second and third performances. Set time aside to research possible performers, for an initial investment of time and money may pay off exponentially—the more performances you have, the more people hear your music, which means more possible opportunities down the road. Consider investing in a website with sound and score samples. A targeted e-mail with links to your site could be a cost-effective way of showin
g your wares.

Update your press kit. That hairstyle in your photo is so ’90s. Revise your bio and keep it current. Get a new photo if necessary (you don’t need to spend mega $$$—a few nice high-quality shots taken by a friend with a digital camera who knows what he or she is doing should suffice). Make sure your program notes, CDs, and any other press materials are updated and ready to send out the door at a moment’s notice.

Keep your chops up. If you’re between pieces, now is the time to attend those professional workshops you never had time for while you were working. Explore the world of artist colonies. Heck, visit your local library. A world of wonder and inspiration awaits you. Leaving the stability of a full-time job is a courageous decision, and being a composer can certainly be a full-time job in its own right. Hopefully you’ll be so successful that the next article you read will be one that gives advice on hiring personal assistants.

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Philip Rothman
Photo by Jake Lipman

Philip Rothman is a freelance composer and arts consultant in New York City. He was formerly Director of Grantmaking Programs at the American Music Center.</p