Thursday, September 06, 2007

Windfall, Part I

I got the call last week that two works of mine are going to be performed at a new music festival the first weekend of November. The festival is the 20th anniversary of the Iowa Composers Forum, to which I have belonged for about a year-and-a-half now. So the first weekend of November we'll be heading to the tropical paradise of Davenport, Iowa.

So what are they performing? I'm glad you asked.

The first is Angels and Demons for violin alone. This will be its first performance. I hope it's as interesting as I think it is. It originally began life as a work for violin and chamber ensemble. Ultimately I was forced to revise the concept heavily and I took about 5 bars from the original piece and used that as the starting point for the solo. The piece is probably best described as a tripartite (slow-fast-slow in this case) fantasia. It is inspired quite a lot by Polish postmodernists like Henryk Gorecki and, to a lesser extent, Krzyzstof Penderecki. The whole piece stems from a single four-note chord that, so I've been told, is really difficult to play. Other than that I prefer to riff on a quote by Sir Harrison Birtwistle: "I went to the piano and found a chord that I liked. Then I learned to make more of it". Aren't crotchety British composers are great?

The second piece is a wind ensemble piece that I wrote in graduate school. I was writing a paper comparing and contrasting the postminimalist techniques Don Davis used in his score for The Matrix with the early orchestral works of John Adams - Grand Pianola Music, Harmonium, Harmonielehre (I'll save you the suspense, there are a lot of similarities, but Davis uses it to imbue the music with subtextual meaning). So I did a lot of listening and studying of Adams' works and transcribing bits of The Matrix that seemed most representative of the score as a whole.

It was during this time that the president of the Phi Mu Alpha chapter at my alma mater called and asked if I would like to contribute a piece to a concert they were putting together. Sure, why not? That was March 31st. 13 days later, after much hemming and hawing about how little time they'd given me, May Music was born and I conducted the premiere on May 3, 2003. Later I revised the piece to its present form (making the woodwind parts more noodly mostly). It's not a minimalist piece. It utilises minimalist techniques. That's it. Because it also has elements of rock, jazz, film music and anything else I could think of whirled together like some sort of postmodern cocktail. To this day I still think it's one of the best things I've written. At any rate I'm pretty excited and moderately nervous because this will be its fourth performance but the first in which I haven't a) been conducting or b) had an office down the hall where the conductor could ask questions about the piece.

7 comments:

the warrior bard said...

Compositions are like teenage children. Sure, they can be great when you are around to keep them in line. But when they go off on their own, you really start to worry about how well they'll do. You hope you did your part well enough that they won't fall along the way or turn out bad, but ultimately you have to just let them go. And then you realize that you're FINALLY FREE!! Time to go to Vegas...

Herr Vogler said...

Yeah I suppose. And you actually know May Music. You know that some jackass is going to say it sounds like Eric Whitacre wherein I'm going to have to politely remind them that Eric Whitacre's instrumental music sounds like John Adams...and then throttle them for not knowing the difference.

the warrior bard said...

Politely throttle them, of course. I hate it when someone says, "It sounds like ______." It immediately puts you (me?) on the defensive, because you have to explain it not only so the accusor/observer understands the error but so the impressionable bystanders don't walk away with the wrong idea. That's really the reason I am often so confrontational--it's not fair to get a jab in at my music in front of a bunch of people. The power of suggestion must be uprooted before it demolishes others' potential appreciation of the piece.

Oh, and my favorite thing ever is when someone tries to point something like that out, asking how much I was unfluenced by _____, to which I flatly reply, "I've never heard that piece." Best. Comeback. Ever. It kills the discussion in its tracks.

I know, it's not always a case of douchebaggery, sometimes it's a legitimate, intellectual discussion of your piece. That I can appreciate. But then you have one person swearing it sounds "just like" so-and-so, and another person who says it is just like another piece entirely. It makes you want to get those two people together and butt their heads together, saying, "Well, I can't have ripped off both of them! Your asinine remarks cancel each other out! Your quick-draw association is merely a sign of your own limited knowledge of repertoire."

Damn it, I should post that on my own blog, so the Captain will comment... I don't think he reads your blog. Anyway... yeah, so, some people you can predict exactly what they are going to say upon hearing your piece performed. Those are the people I eventually came to ignore after the recitals at BG. I'd go to the reception, take the free food that I earned, snub the conversations that irritated me, and go fume in my office.

God, I miss being a grad student... oh wait, that's right. I forgot.

In the words of the Captain, I can make anything about me.

Me, me, me...
Me, too!


My point is, jackass comments are inebitabar. Be ready with your comebacks (it should be second nature by now) and be on the lookout for people who actually did enjoy the piece. Then find out why they liked it and how much repertoire they know, I guess, to place their opinion in context. Lately, I've been thinking what it would be like to be a guest composer at a university... but that is a digression I will reserve for a future bitch session.

Regardless of what I or anyone else thinks about Eric Whitacre, when I hear the name in a conversation, I brace myself. It's like "George W. Bush" that way.

May Music is the shiznit.

Herr Vogler said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Herr Vogler said...

You know, you should think about joining up. I've finally convinced the Pikey that it's worthwhile.

We could be "those raucous southerners from Missoura".

"Join the Mobile Infantry and save the Galaxy. Service guarantees citizenship."

the warrior bard said...

I smell cigars... let's do it.

Herr Vogler said...

"This is our victory dance. Not until the fat lady sings."