The New Sound Barrier

Birth of a Contemporary Ensemble: New Music BC

2011-12-09T12:13:00.001-08:00

For many years, I’ve experienced the difficulties associated with trying to get new musical works to break into the consciousness of various classical music circles. Put simply: it ain’t easy. The results, to be blunt, aren't anywhere near as positive as they should be. Nevertheless, the tireless fight for today’s voices is, I believe, a worthy one. And with so many sonic sculptors out there, who hope at least for a chance to be heard and, therefore, to develop, it’s a battle that must continue.

Thankfully, one of the fantastically bright lights out there is the abundance of new music ensembles and performers who are dedicated to giving composers that fair(er) trial. The numbers of these groups have even been growning rapidly in the last several years.

But still, the number of people composing music, or the amount of new compositions looking for life, vastly outnumbers those who are willing to perform these works.

And so, in recent years, I’ve thought a lot about forming a new music group; trying to do my part in providing that platform. It seemed a better idea to be a proactive musician risking failure, rather than just whinging about this or that as some lazy, armchair warrior.

Recently, I had a new work of mine premiered at a Classical Revolution PDX gig in NE Portland.

(Side note: “Classical Revolution” is an organization dedicated to playing classical music in nontraditional venues: bars, cafes, wherever else. It started in San Francisco, I think, and since then many cities, from Montreal to Portland to Ann Arbor, have had groups of musicians get together to form their own “Classical Revolution” in their city.) Anyway, the setting at this CRPDX gig was fantastic: all sorts of people, some drinking happy juice, others drinking tea, gathered to listen to music, the old and the new. The newer stuff, strangely enough, isn’t often even given a chance in the classical traditions from which both composer and performer are coming; which is why composers have, for decades, sought more welcoming atmospheres, like this one in Portland.

After experiencing this increasingly favorable setting of playing modern music in a bar/café, my eyes were opened to the possibility of new music having a direct route to the people. And the opening of his route was simply the final push I needed for forming an ensemble. Enter: New Music BC.

I love the idea of forming a group dedicated to the promotion of contemporary music in Battle Creek.
Everything I’ve done musically can be traced back to there. And I’m happy that my musical journey began in there. I knew (and know) loads of interesting and well fluent musicians in the city.

No, perhaps residing outside the city isn’t exactly ideal for contributing to a local based organization. But technology obviously makes communicating and strategizing from a distance much easier. And I can easily take part in several events each year when I return to visit (when the weather’s nice, of course…. you know what I’m talking about).

So that’s the idea behind New Music BC: lots of interesting things are possible, hopefully lots new music will be played and heard, and, of course, anyone is welcome, from performers, composers, listeners, supporters, general opiners or anything else. It may start out as a group that plays a few interesting evenings in some downtown spots for the first few years, and then perhaps it’ll turn into something else down the road. Beyond that, who the hell knows?

At least at this point, it's simply a group for anyone interested in modern music.

In regard to gigs, maybe we’ll look to play Brownstone Café a few times, showcasing a few works by John Cage or Pierre Boulez. Maybe we’ll busk in front of Kellogg’s Headquarters, recreating the film scores of Phillip Glass or a chamber work by Harrison Birtwistle. Perhaps we’ll even host an entire evening of premieres of new works by local composers at Arcadia.

Maybe we’ll do all that, and, still, this idea simply won’t catch on and NMBC won't survive. That’s really not the concern, however. Regardless of whatever happens with this particular group, one thing’s for sure: if you plant enough seeds, one of them is bound to grow.

If you're interested in being a part of this group, please contact NMBC for more info. At the moment, we're tentatively looking at a possible Spring or Summer event.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/New-Music-BC/307441049268925

Please support my composer page on Facebook!

2011-11-26T10:26:00.001-08:00

Hey, friends, if you have a minute, please check out and support my composer page by 'liking' it. If you follow this blog, then you know that I'm a composer of modern music using classical, acoustic instruments, as well as electro-acoustic sounds (though, the latter is really slow going!) Whenever I have a new recording or an upcoming performance, or anything else like that, I announce it here (and sometimes other contemporary music related things or thoughts).

Thank you!!
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Troy-Ramos-Composer/192702590752146?sk=wall

World Premieres abound at summer Cascadia Composers concerts

2011-06-07T08:48:00.000-07:00

Cascadia Composers, an organization founded in 2008 to promote new music and consisting of over 50 composers in the northern Oregon and southern Washington area, will present a two-concert mini-fest Sounding the Summer Soltice. These concerts will feature several world premieres of works by regional composers.

The first concert, A June Night Swoon of Torrid Tunes, happens on Saturday, 8:00 pm, June 18th, at the Community Music Center, 3550 SE Francis Street, Portland OR 97202. It features two distinguished guest artists: Pamela Ryan (viola) and Corinne Stillwell (violin), who will be traveling from the East Coast to perform several of the works on this concert. Also featured on this concert will be world premieres of compositions by Terry Wergeland, Art Resnick, and Gary Noland.

The second concert, A Summer Soltice Opus Circus, takes place on Wednesday, 8:00 pm, June 22nd, at Evans Auditorium, Evans Music Center, Lewis & Clark College, 0615 SW Palatine Hill Road, MSC 18, Portland OR 97219. This concert features Tomas Svoboda performing several of his compositions for solo piano, as well as world premieres of works by Troy RAMOS, Daniel Brugh, Elizabeth Blachly-Dyson, and Denis Floyd.

http://issuu.com/chavezchen/docs/seventh_species_june_2011_programs

Please read the attached press release-link above for comprehensive program details and for bios of featured composers and performers. Tickets will be at the door. Admission: $15.00 regular, $10.00 seniors & students.

The Element as Everything

2011-05-30T10:37:00.000-07:00

"We should not neglect the fact that some biographies, written by people who have authority, in the 'academy', finally invest this authority in a book, which, for centuries sometimes, after the death of an author, represent the truth. The truth, eh... And someone, interested in biography writes a 'life and works' of (,say,) Heidigger,--well documented, apparently consistent, and...eh, it's the only one, published under the authority of the 'good press', okay. And then, Heidigger's image, Heidigger's life, is fixed and stabilized for centuries.

That's why I would say that, sometimes, the one who reads a text by a philosopher, for instance a tiny paragraph, and interprets it in a rigorous, inventive and powerfully suffering fashion, is more of a real biographer than the one who knows the whole story."

This is a quote by French philosopher Jacques Derrida, taken from a remark at a press conference shown in a 2002 documentary about him and his philosophy by Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering Kofman, called Derrida. This quote has had an enormous impact on my way of thinking It has even become a thought to which I'll often refer for comfort whenever I'm feeling inadequate (for whatever reason). Why? Well, it has had such an influence on me because it seems to take much of the air out of how we define an expert in any given field, and whatever qualifications we generally think might be associated certain positions of expertise.

Of course it wouldn't seem logical to dismiss a person's well established research, or the general idea of having credentials. That would perhaps be a step too far in the direction of epistemic egalitarianism. But the idea of a person, perhaps someone who isn't formally trained, or who lays outside of the established circles, or who doesn't have all the relevant dates, places and biographical details burnt into their memory, taking merely a piece of something larger and offering some great insight, or having a certain touch for the application of whatever theory or thought, and to do so at the same level of so called experts, seems a completely logical potential to have.

It also seems that this quote is implying that such 'interpretations' could also be a starting point for some and possibly a return to the basics for others, which is why the pursuit of 'other paragraphs' seems plausible and somewhat encouraged, and still in keeping with the spirit of this quote.

If anyone has tried to become as fluent as possible in a subject, then perhaps you know how daunting the task can be (even though the term 'fluency' is probably mostly subjective anyway). But this fear of lacking a certain standard of knowledge, in any field, can keep you questioning the justification of your pursuits from time to time. Do you really have it? And it can simply feel overwhelming.

Thoughts of not being sufficiently grounded in x-amount of the appropriate areas and thoughts and of not having obtained a certain level of 'notoriety' can produce serious thoughts and internal debates about your failures vs. your successes. But then this Jacques Derrida thought comes along to put things into perspective. And at once we're reminded that it's about quality, not quantity. And a simple piece of mind clears our heads so that we're able to think like philosophers, not like people who are cramming for an exam.

The philosopher has increasingly put things into perspective for me in recent years. There seems to be something about their approach that can feel slightly more objective than that of certain minds in other fields. Perhaps sometimes those within whichever field can find themselves a bit too close to the subject at hand and can, at least subconsciously, offer up bits of advice that may look like an agenda which is trying to nudge you gently in a certain direction. Whereas with the philosopher, because they are in a more pulled back position, often looking at things from distances that are farther out than people within those subjects are willing or unable to go, it seems they might be able to deliver a more objective thought.

What is also comforting, and I think the actual point, is that because of this thought by Derrida, we can no longer feel alone in thinking that the people or institutions, who may seem to have all the answers, might actually be lacking in something substantive after all.

And this thought, this tiny element of Derrida's life, seems to suggest that maybe we might be well advised to slow it down and take our time with it, so as to be more committed to that idea of 'one paragraph'. It's a reminder that perhaps everything we need to know, or want to accomplish, doesn't come to us after we've consumed absolutely everything, but, rather, after we've given thought to the idea that everything might just be contained within a little piece of whatever it is we call life.

Oregon Symphony gives spectacular performance on Sunday

2011-05-10T11:48:00.000-07:00

If you didn't see the Oregon Symphony's concert at Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall this past Sunday, you'd be justified in kicking yourself. You missed a classic. But... if you weren't there, there's some good news: you may still get another shot at it (more on that later).

The concert, which was sort of centered around the theme of war, opened with Charles Ives's The Unanswered Question. With the most beautifully quiet poise, we began a very moving evening of music.  The opening of this work was so quiet, so beautiful, that this moment will probably forever be burnt into my memory.

The concert's tranquil beginning was then followed up by John Adams's The Wound-Dresser, which featured well known baritone Sanford Sylvan, who is perhaps more famously known for playing the role of 'Klinghoffer', in the cinematic release of Adams's opera The Death of Klinghoffer. This work was interesting, but it really took a backseat to the other three pieces. Though, to be fair, it would've been tough for any work to stand up to the other works in this particular concert.

The strange thing is that, despite John Adams being the only actual living composer on the bill, it was perhaps the least modern sounding of the four works.  Modern, that is, we could define as something that challenges the traditional concert hall structure, something that feels free enough traditional form or sounds or harmony.

We then entered the unpredictable thunder of war via Benjamin Britten's Sinfonia da Requiem and Vaughan Williams's Symphony No. 4.

It's easy to be blown away by both of these works: pure power, reflective beauty and, well,... more power.  The entire program was put together so well, and these final two works capped and solidified the smashing performance put on by the Oregon Symphony.

But, as alluded to earlier, if you missed the concert, you luckily get a second chance to hear it. Here it is: the Oregon Symphony will be performing this same concert at Carnegie Hall in New York on Thursday.  And you can hear it live on All Classical FM (89.9 here in Portland) beginning, I believe, at 5:00 PM Pacific.

So, there you go. Now you'll have no excuse if you miss it.

What does Radiohead tell us about ourselves?

2011-04-13T10:57:00.000-07:00

There aren’t usually many exceptions to the status quo in the Top 10 Weekly Albums. I suppose the music charts have always lacked a little diversity, in any decade.

So what’s interesting to note, for enthusiasts, are the exceptions, the trend-buckers. And lately, the only real exception to the norm, as I see it, is Radiohead’s latest album The King of Limbs.

Sure, other interesting groups sometimes muscle their way into the spotlight. But there’s a significant difference between many of those groups and Radiohead: other groups still, in some way, fit inside certain molds. Radiohead does not.

RH doesn’t remake their past albums. And their willingness to take chances and to try different ideas is unfortunately unique.

But aren’t artists supposed to do that? Should we really applaud whenever a group, like RH, can’t be easily categorized?

And what do the Top 10 albums say about us, the public? Does it suggest that we spend too much time not listening to music when we’re listening to music. It is always on, isn't it?

Listening to music usually goes along with other things: dancing, chatting, cleaning, gaming, surfing, humping, shopping, browsing or entertaining. Now, I’m not necessarily condemning every situation like that, but one wonders how many people actually give their undivided attention to music anymore.

Everything seems to be delegated to some sort of background status. Not saying that Radiohead’s immune to that. But if that happens, it’s usually subsequent to at least a few dedicated listening sessions.

American composer/thinker John Cage once said: “People expect listening to be more than listening.”

Radiohead’s interesting sonic spaces suggest a fearlessness of removing standard elements of (popular) music. Listening to The King of Limbs, one can hear similarities to the booming electro-acoustic music happening in contemporary classical circles that also confronts tradition. In other words, RH is challenging our perception of what music is.

So I don’t know if I should be disappointed that Radiohead is surrounded by ‘fridge buzz’, or impressed that a forward thinking group can actually achieve Top 10 status. I'm not sure what it all says about the state of music. But, perhaps more importantly, I'm really uncertain of what all that says about us.

Oregon Ballet Theatre shines through Stravinsky

2011-03-09T18:36:00.000-08:00

The Oregon Ballet Theatre recently concluded their series of concerts entitled The Stravinsky Project, in which they performed several works by Igor Stravinsky. The performances were all at Keller Auditorium in downtown Portland. Overall it seemed to be a success. In regard to the Sunday matinee, there were so many inspiring aspects of this performance (and only a few elements were a little less than desirable) that I wished I had had a chance to attend all of the performances.

When I first learned that the musical accompaniment would take the form of a few pianists, my eyes unexcitedly glossed over, and then rolled contemptuously at the thought of having to listen to piano reductions of some of the great orchestral scores of the 20th century. I thought for sure it would be as if I was attending the final dress rehearsal rather than a performance. But the one thing I didn't expect was that the company would have a few tricks up their sleeve. And it has to be admitted that it sort of......well, actually worked.

One of the biggest achievements of the entire concert was the very intelligent introduction of these pianistic versions of Stravinsky's great works. We didn't actually hear a pianist until the second piece (there were three pieces in the concert altogether). And it wasn't until the final work where we found ourselves alone with the pianists.

It's as if the company was almost wooing us into this instrumentation. It was clever. Apart from a few questionably rushed tempi during moments of The Rite of Spring, the pianists played wonderfully. And even though it may not be preferable, in my view, to hear such great orchestral literature reduced and stripped of its colour, the format of the programmatic structure was extremely smooth.

And it worked because the opening piece, The Firebird, was incredibly entertaining and contained some rather magnificent dancing. It was also danced to a full orchestral accompaniment. And by 'full orchestral accompaniment', I mean that the Oregon Ballet Theatre simply played a CD or MP3 recording through some speakers.

Now, wait a minute, don't cringe just yet. You might be surprised to hear that it actually came off really well.

As I waited for the concert to start, I was skimming over the programme trying hard to figure out who the musicians would be for this first piece. There was simply nothing indicating the sound source. My wife even joked, "Maybe they're gonna play CD". Moments after she said that, the lights began to fade. "Nah, they wouldn't", I thought to myself.

But once the music started, it simply didn't matter. Once you hear those low strings slowly grinding out some sort of ominous foreshadowing of what will become Earth-rattling music, you don't care where or how those sounds are reaching you: they just are. (Have a listen yourself: Stravinsky's Firebird opening:). Almost instantly, it felt as if we all were happy that they were going to deliver at least one work as Stravinsky intended.

So at that point, the dancers had their platform. And they really took full advantage of it.

The dancing was absolutely superb throughout the entire concert, especially in The Firebird. It would be unwise to fake a role as a dance critic here, so perhaps it will suffice to say that what was happening on the stage, the creative concepts, the movement and the chemistry, all seemed super fantastic.

And of course, the other thing that Portland arts bodies do really well is staging. Very intelligent sets and aesthetically pleasing colours and costumes always seem to be a PDX forte: and it was true again for this production.

The second work, titled, I believe, Collaboration, was very interesting. It's a little unclear as to what it was exactly, music-wise, but if I had to guess, it seems it was a mix between loose structure and improvisation (and that's meant mostly in regard to the musicians).

The pianist seemed to have a more traditional score from which to work, whilst electro-acoustic musician Heather Perkins performed a fair amount of what seemed like improv. This type of work should definitely be encouraged. The need for more contemporary art and thought, especially in music, can't be stressed enough.

However, by the end of this work, it started to sound like electro-acoustic doodling. Contemporary works are great; electro-acoustic works are fantastic; electro-acoustic improv: not always so good. But these views aren't meant to discourage such efforts. The risk is greatly appreciated, and it would certainly be inspiring to see much more of this around PDX.

So by the time we reach what should be the pinnacle of the evening, The Rite Of Spring, most everything seems to get a little flat. The dancing was good, of course, but the usually reliable costumes and colour scheme came up a little short. It's understandable why they didn't start the concert with this piece, considering the aforementioned layout of the programme. But there certainly has to be more from the finale, especially when it involves such a powerful piece of music.

Overall, one could certainly expect more from the musical element. Using the pre-recorded work for The Firebird may have been pulled off, but it isn't really a format that's going to place a company (or a city) on the map, musically speaking. Even if it's preferred to have the CD over a piano reduction, you simply have to be docked points for doing so. But it was a fantastic performance, however, and the avant-gardish nature of the second work was very interesting and made a huge contribution to the evening. And despite the relative dryness of the Rite, I think it gets a solid three out of five stars.

Looking forward to the next one...

Oeuvres pour Piano (nos. 1-3) recorded in Portland

2011-02-14T10:30:00.000-08:00

Oeuvres pour Piano is a collection of various works for solo piano. My plan is to contribute works to it throughout my life. The first three in this collection (No. 1, No. 2 and No. 3) were recorded on 12 February 2011 at Portland State University. The pianist was Matt Grossman. I'm really, really happy with the quality of this recording.

All three videos are up my YouTube channel (http://www.youtube.com/user/Chavezchen), but I've posted the first one here if you'd like to listen to them. Enjoy!

Brand new recording for "Work in Four Parts"

2011-02-14T10:23:00.000-08:00

On Saturday I made a really good recording of my work for solo piano, Work in Four Parts (2010). The recording was done at Portland State University and features Matt Grossman on the piano. I think it turned out really, really well. (Great job, Matt!)

There are four videos altogether, and I've posted the first one below. If you're interested in the full program notes, please feel free to contact me. Here's an excerpt of those notes:

"This piece is essentially about two things: allowing sounds to breathe, and hearing them from a different perspective. The idea behind the
‘breathing’ of sounds is that the resonance of the notes and chords has
at least as much importance as when the notes are first struck. The
ringing of the sounds must become either as much of the story, so to
speak, or become its own story, because it creates a different take on
the sounds than when they first occurred. In essence, therefore, there
are three key elements to these pieces: the notes when played, the
ringing of those notes and, of course, silence.

The second major part of this work is the idea of perspective. This
thought, which is based on a theme in “Du côtè de chez Swann” by
Marcel Proust, and is the basis for the work as a whole, allows us to see
the sounds from more than one perspective. In Proust’s book, the hero,
from his home in the little ville called Combray, encounters two walking
paths: one to the right and one to the left; each leading to a destination
quite different from the other. Eventually, the hero discovers that he
could have actually reached both destinations from going in either
direction. In other words, he discovers that each destination is part of
the same path. So, the idea of walking to a destination using the same
path, but from the opposite direction, opens up the experience of
viewing sites already known, but from another point in time and space."

Questions for a Composer

2011-02-11T14:26:00.000-08:00

Recently I received a sort of questionnaire from Seth Boustead of Access Contemporary Music on issues related to life and composing. The questions were for the organization's February newsletter, and I thought it might be interesting to share some of my responses. I've expanded on some of the answers here. And by all means, for any composers out there, or anyone who has struggles trying to do what they'd truly like to do this, please share some of your own thoughts.

ACM: How do you balance making a living and finding time to compose?

tR: I suppose there's simply no way to avoid long hours every day if you want to continue to compose. I think composing is very similar to learning a language, or practicing an instrument or exercising: you have to do it every day. From a certain perspective, it seems a bit unjust that 'making a living' and 'composing' are very rarely the same thing. New compositions have tremendous cultural value, in my view, but we've created a world where they have little 'financial value'.

Kyle Gann wrote a great article in the Village Voice a long time ago, in which he referenced Theodor Adorno’s assertion that ”business ethics destroyed the ‘use value’ of a work of art- in other words, what a work of art can potentially mean to a person or a people- and have substituted ‘exchange value’, what someone will pay for it.”

So I think until we’ve addressed that issue, I’ll just expect that I’ll have to continue to work long hours, and doing different things, in order to be a composer.

ACM: Do you have enough time to compose?

tR: I think I probably have more time than most composers do. But I certainly don’t have as much time as I would like. When it comes to having enough time to do something you feel is meaningful, I always think of a particular quote by John Cage:

"If everybody who teaches school (or, presumably Cage would accept the notion of substituting any profession here), because it's the simplest way of making a living, were given a well funded fellowship to a life-long research, would they accept? Would they not stop asking: 'How can I make a living?', and start asking 'What is it that I love, that I'm interested in?' 'What could I do to help make the world work to some more satisfactory, more interesting point?' This used to be a stupid question, it suddenly becomes a very logical one."

ACM: What frustrations do you have with getting your music performed?

tR: It’s frustrating to see so many concerts with so few new/relatively new works on the program. New music organizations are obviously dedicated to contemporary works, but there are still so many ensembles which are completely ignoring the present tense. They also seem to forget that their preferred works were once new as well.

Another frustration is that, if I submit a work for a concert or competition, it’s usually one submission amongst at least 100 others (often more). That really tells you something. It says that there simply aren’t enough performances happening. And it also unfairly lays a huge burden on whichever panel of judges for whichever competition. How could any panel give adequate time and thought to 100 or 200 musical works within a short time frame? It can’t be done. A very small percentage of musical bodies are carrying the heavy load of displaying a very large percentage of new works.

ACM: What is a compositional goal you currently have?

tR: That’s difficult to say because those sorts of things can change over time. In general, I hope to write several operas and several large orchestral works, with lots of smaller chamber works in between the larger projects. Opera has become really important to me. I feel compelled to write for the theater. If I can get anything significant done, I hope it’s that.

And I'm really starting to get into composing electro-acoustic works. That could become a big part of whatever I do. I just love it.

Songs Three, in performance in Chicago

2011-01-12T12:54:00.000-08:00

I'm very happy to share the recording of the premiere of my third song cycle, Songs Three, which was played at a concert in Chicago. The concert was on December 6, 2010 and took place at Curtiss Hall.

The work is for Soprano, Mezzo-Soprano, Baritone and two pianos. With each new performance and new work involving the voice(s), I can really feel myself startng to move towards being a theatrical composer. It's been in the back of my mind for a long time, so I'm quite excited to be moving in that direction. And with some of this momentum, I've even begun work on my first opera. I'm currently writing the libretto, and I hope to have some music set/completed by springtime. I can't really say what it's about, but I'll leave a few clues: it might involve Shakespeare and video games. Shh, don't tell!

In any case, here are recordings of both parts of Songs Three. The text, by the way, was written by Austin Kleon. And the performers are:

Hülya Alpakin - piano
Theresa Gigante - piano
Nina Heebink - mezzo-soprano
Brad Jungwirth - baritone
Susan Nelson - soprano

See the Met and Puccini in your local cinema…..if you can swing it

2011-01-06T18:00:00.000-08:00

This Saturday, January 8, the Met will broadcast Puccini’s opera La Fanciulla del West live in cinemas around the world beginning at 1PM, New York time. This is part of New York’s Metropolitan Opera’s Live in HD Series which streams its live New York performances into participating theaters around the world. So never mind the trip to New York, making all those tedious travel plans or even scheduling time off work (if you have a job in this economy, that is): you can just hop on your bike wherever you are and head to the cinema to catch the performance live. Just remember to bring $24 to get in.

Did I mention that it costs $24 for a ticket? Well, it does. But if you were actually considering going to this, you’re clearly at least open to the idea of opera at 10 in the morning, so maybe the cost doesn’t phase you. It still might be fair to consider one question, however: is it a fair price?

It has to be said that the idea behind the Live in HD Series is a good one, perhaps even a little clever: bring the live performance of an opera at the Met, a venue which might have normally limited the potential audience size to a few thousand, to more venues by simply streaming it live into cinemas, opening up the possibility for droves of people to enjoy the concert. And, of course, it doesn't hurt to bring in a little more revenue as well (we all know how important that is). Brilliant. Well done.

The potential catch, apparently, is that some of the social stigmas already fairly or unfairly attached to the classical world might be streamed as well. The leader of these stigmas would be related to ‘cost’, of course. So maybe the Met will forgive the prediction that, when seeing the $24 price to enter, the record may skip for those who might not be as keen or able to shell out for a fare that costs three times as much as the average movie ticket.

Presumably, opening up Met performances and opera in general to a wider audience was the underlying principle behind the series. But how the Met defines ‘wider audience’ might be of some importance. Does it mean to open up the club to other like-economic people, the same sort who could attend the actual concert in New York, but who happen to live elsewhere? Or does it mean opening up opera to people from all, or most, economic classes? If it’s the latter, then it would seem that someone at the Met may have failed to consider the means of those perhaps less fortunate and/or less opera-convinced individuals who might have some interest in seeing the broadcast but simply can’t afford to.

But an entry price that is the equivalent of several films would seem to indicate that the Met isn’t really as interested in reaching out to those outside the base as they could be. It seems fair at least to ask whether or not they are interested in exporting a policy of potentially artistic exclusion, or the operas themselves.

It would also be fair to accept, at least in part, that bringing opera to the masses would probably be a waste of time because the greater public in all likelihood wouldn’t come even if it was a free event. Most people don’t seem to have a problem with paying a fair share to artists, especially when it’s in return for great art. The positive return for such an investment is incalculable. And it isn’t the intention of this article to try to persuade any opera company to lower the cost of admittance below its worth. This also isn’t about bringing anything to the masses; it is about the artistic version of the so-called lower and middle classes potentially being priced out of enjoying art like the Live in HD Series.

And besides, if you’re an opera company, an institution which already has to deal with issues of separation from certain classes and economic perceptions, you’ve already got an uphill climb when it comes to convincing people of your value. Pricing out interested or potentially interested supporters only exasperates that divide. Especially when there appears not to be anything, or very, very few works, that would qualify as modern in the repertoire; but perhaps that's a topic for another day.

Countless things are being streamed nowadays, and it's difficult to know the exact cost of such a thing unless you’re at least somewhat knowledgeable in that particular area. That is meant, by the way, in regard to the actual cost of streaming something, and not the royalties involved. But it is obviously impossible to ignore the costs outside of the actual streaming process. Everyone should of course be paid for their work. No one is suggesting otherwise. But it might be understandable if someone refused to believe that the Met actually needs $24 a seat from cinemas around the world to cover all costs involved with streaming their live performances. If for some reason they actually do need that much money to cover everything, then perhaps they shouldn’t be surprised when there ends up being more hands in their cookie jar than there will be applauding the performance in participating cinemas around the world on Saturday.

Chicago Classical Review on Newspaper Blackout Poems concert

2010-12-07T16:08:00.000-08:00

There's a review on Chicago Classical Review's website about the Newspaper Blackout Poems concert that took place on December 6. This concert was full of premieres, including my own, titled Songs Three.

You can read the review via the link below. Hopefully before too long, I'll also provide a link to hear the recording of the performance of my work at that concert.

Chicago Classical Review on Newspaper Blackout Poems concert

"Songs Three" to be premiered at Chicago concert in December

2010-11-22T11:57:00.000-08:00

Songs Three, my new work for three voices and two pianos, will be premiered in Chicago on December 6 at Roosevelt University by the new music ensemble, Access Contemporary Music. This concert is titled Newspaper Blackout Poems, and the works, including mine, involve a collaboration between new sounds and text in the form of new poems by Austin Kleon.

Here are all the concert details (and if you're in the area you should totally go!):

Newspaper Blackout Poems

When poet Austin Kleon was recently featured on NPR's Morning Edition they described his Newspaper Blackout Poems by saying, “instead of starting with a blank page, poet Austin Kleon grabs a newspaper and a permanent marker and eliminates the words he doesn't need.”
Alternately whimsical, nostalgic, funny and always spare, the resulting poems are just asking to be set to music and ACM's member composers have done just that. Join us for an evening of songs torn from the daily news.
Details
Monday, December 6 7:30 PM
Roosevelt University, Ganz Hall
430 S. Michigan, 7th Floor
$20, $12 online, $5 students and seniors
773 334 3650

http://www.acmusic.org/node/230

New work recorded in Portland

2010-11-22T11:45:00.000-08:00

There's been a wonderful premiere recording of my recent work, titled Shades of Light. The recording took place at the Old Church in Portland, Oregon earlier this month. The work is for two alto flutes, and is in four parts (the first part is above). The performers were Celine Thacston and Gail Gillespie.

This work, and others, can also be viewed on my YouTube channel:

http://www.youtube.com/user/Chavezchen

The Patronage Vacuum

2010-09-01T11:56:00.000-07:00

A few decades into the 20th century, after the craziness of the 1920s led to a rise in a new kind of ‘mass’ royalty known as pop stars and celebrities, both within the musical world and beyond, the once supported composer was now entering a new phase: one of a more patron-less nature. Patrons of all sorts had previously supported the composer, so as to allow them the financial freedom to create works; or, as some composers might put it, simply to be paid (fairly) for all the hard work they do. Nevertheless, such patronage in the past might have included multiple sources, like churches or persons of royalty or the occasional well-off, run of the mill upper-cruster. But by the 1920s and 1930s this was gone, seemingly never to return.

At that time, there also happened to be a massive shift towards totalitarianism in political climates around the world, particularly in Europe. So with the apparent death of the composer-patron system at hand, this left a sort of power vacuum for ideologues, or even the dictators themselves, to swoop in to support these composers, albeit with a few conditions in mind for the return of that favor. What these new patrons wanted was simple: to have control of the music, both aesthetically and structurally, for what they thought would be to the benefit of the masses. In other words, it was to be used as propaganda: totalitarian art for totalitarian means.

To anyone familiar with 20th century politics and music, this isn’t news. The list of composers who were subjected to these ideologies, either willfully or against their wishes, is well known. Certainly at least some of these composers were even quite often justifiably afraid of losing their lives out of fear of creating works that were displeasing to their dictatorial ‘supervisors’. And some of them did lose their lives. So it wasn’t simply about finding the funds through which they could continue to write music, but it was also about avoiding the very real threat of physical harm that might result from works that didn’t fit within certain ideals.

This totalitarian method of politicizing music and the arts doesn’t seem to be the case today, however; at least not in as dramatic a fashion, or at least not in the west, anyway. But this hasn’t alleviated many of the same problems the composer still has to face. And although the threat of execution or being jailed isn’t currently on that list of problems, it doesn’t necessarily mean that artists are unchallenged by persons or things (depending on which country you live in) in extraordinary positions of power, who could make life as a composer unbearable enough so that it might seem at least comparable to some of those old world threats. There may not be the visible presence of dictators hanging about, pushing artists in certain directions for political gain or some other purpose, but one has to wonder if the power behind such an authoritarian position has gone, or if it has simply fallen under a new guise and perhaps even expanded.

The composer never has an obvious means of support. In many ways technology has allowed the individual artist a powerful means through which they can share their works, network rather effectively and receive the appropriate amount of exposure. But it seems quite seldom that it actually generates enough funds for the composer to survive. So composers and other artists are essentially still without support. And this would seem to leave a kind of power vacuum in the arts unfilled: again. It’s probably always been the case that the power in the arts has always been with the ones who have the money, not the artists themselves. It’s also clear that, even in the old composer-patron system, there were many great artists who were supported by patrons who also had their own ideas about the particulars within the works of their creators. But today, when we talk about art and finances and the influence that money has on the arts, I think we’re now talking about something wider reaching than a few patrons or dictators could match. We’re looking at something that possibly has the power to dictate or to influence artists so heavily that it shapes the arts in an increasingly global way. And of course such an influence can be dangerous because it could prevent artists from doing what it is they want to do or how they want to do it. This also can contribute to the ‘canning’ of music. As composer Bryan Fehyrnough once remarked:

“The moment you put a label on something you’ve ‘canned’ it. And I know the present day world of commerce ‘cans’ things,…but that’s not my concern. Art is about questioning how things fit together, it’s not about making them fit together better.”

And so if we are facing an incredible influence like this, one which is no longer restricted to certain regions like in previous decades, then it appears as if we may have drifted into uncharted waters.

If we think about a composer’s lifestyle and how they stay alive financially, there are, it seems, a few different categories of composer to consider. There’s the composer who has another job on top of composing, who is free to do sort of what they wish artistically. They at least have much more wiggle room to try new things, or to move on to different projects that better suit their tastes because their income comes from outside composition. Although they probably never have time to do very much since they have that other job and all. Another type of composer, the one who is, perhaps quite foolishly, attempting to pursue a living through creating music, simply isn’t as free. Like the composer who has another job, they face enormous obstacles. But although the fulltime composers actually have the time to compose, they also deal with an increasing amount of creative pressure that comes along with the financial pressures of being in it full time. Eventually most, if not all, composers have to turn to film scoring or jingle writing or writing as musicologists or bloggers once the bills are stacked too high. And of course there’s nothing wrong with that: if that’s what you want to do. But unlike other professions, in the composing world, even a composer who is talented and is doing interesting things so often fails. The lack of public support and a pitiful amount of government funding for the arts (at least in the US) eventually crushes them. So in the end, all but a few can’t continue as fulltime composers and find themselves taking on other positions to avoid financial collapse. And sometimes these are positions which might end up becoming much more of a detriment to their creative lives than they had imagined. And so we lose out not just on the art and the possibility of great art being created, but quite possibly the artists themselves. We also allow the idea of art as being of some importance to our society to erode.

It doesn’t seem at all unhealthy, it should be said, to have some composers succeed at attracting audiences whilst others fail. That seems perfectly normal. I think John Cage’s idea of blurring the line between whom we perceive the artist and the non-artist to be is a healthy one. But it is understandable, at least in this context, that the Darwinian model be applied to the arts in the same manner that it is applied elsewhere. That is, at least within the context of the system(s) in which we operate now (the value of such a system is perhaps another discussion). What might be objected to, however, is the idea that many interesting and talented composers could be turned away simply because their works might just be what they are and nothing more. That is, they don’t serve a secondary purpose which someone or something could use in conjunction with something else, which is usually for the purposes of selling something, like a film or a pharmaceutical product or some retail product. Therefore, if forced into the situation of sacrificing the meaning of the art by having other meanings thrust upon it, the fulltime composer has to abandon whatever work they might have done, in order to create works of art that are no longer purely musical. Or they must join some line of work that might not even have anything to do with music at all.

It seems if that were to happen, they’d then have fallen victim to some form of mass consumption, forced either to encourage the feeding of this beast through their works, via advertising or whatever, or simply forced to become consumers themselves by having to abandon their lives as composers in favor of a secondary job in order to meet their financial role as ‘consumers’. This current of mass consumption might then seem simply too strong to swim against, and inevitably it feels as if everyone, whether they are composers or writers or even someone who wants to enjoy life without being pushed into some hyper capitalist ‘goal’ of becoming rich, must abandon whatever their purpose might actually be and join the masses so as to avoid drowning. This saturation of business-world models into every other field in our world causes those fields like composition to adopt the business mentality, and the idea of profit simply takes over everything. It seems one thing to run a business and advertise, and quite another when that idea turns into a black hole that sucks everything into it.

It doesn’t help the composer that elements of their own family- the orchestras, various arts organizations and concert halls- have all but turned their back on new music. Of course there are some who have not. But sometimes it is regrettable to mention that fact because as soon as you do, everyone thinks you might be talking about them. So this seems to make it a double blow for the composer: one from within and one from outside. And in both cases, one of the problems is that one could seriously question whether all sides are being shown. That is, especially in the case of the composer’s extended musical family, the contemporary composer’s work is rarely even put up for a vote. It may do the public a huge disservice to assume to know what the public wants or needs, rather than what they might actually like. Anyone from either of these aforementioned obstacles could try to say that the general public, if given the chance, wouldn’t like, for example, the solo piano works of this contemporary composer or the new opera by that contemporary composer, but why should we believe it? It seems logical to think that a great number of people might enjoy contemporary music if they had a chance to hear it. And, besides, how could anyone really know what would happen if it hadn’t happened yet?

And the composer continues down the road.

So it seems the once fear of execution and jail time may have simply been replaced with the fear of homelessness, bankruptcy or, in the most grotesque of political centres, the fear of losing medical coverage. I suppose they’re both leverages of life and death, it’s just that one is rather indirect and allows blame for such harm to seem a little less clear (which makes it a perfect system for some, mind you). So with these twisted new versions of old threats, the composer is forced to adjust, which could be considered code for becoming something that they are not, and/or creating works that are burdened with economic identities. To make things worse, in regard to public funding for the arts, the powerful and the relevant institutions can continue to further their interest through lobbying power. And when you control how legislation is written or how funding is distributed, you control exactly what is funded and what isn’t.

So if the early 20th century saw the vast majority of composers lose patronage, whilst many other composers in Eastern Europe lost that and became subjects of dictators, only to see that totalitarian system crumbled, which left control of the arts support in many places out in the open in subsequent decades and right up to today, I think it’s important at least to ask the question: has the filling of that gap of patronage shifted from totalitarianism towards something better? There's certainly a sensible argument to be made that it would be better to be free and homeless than with aid whilst being controlled. But if we are we heading towards a situation that might include the worst of both systems, sort of a hybrid, then one wonders if composers have yet to see the bottom.

On Sources and Systems

2010-08-10T17:51:00.000-07:00

Lately I find myself constantly immersed in what composers use as the basis for their works and how these ideas are actually carried out. And in looking at the various processes used by others, the hope is to gain useful insight that will reveal important elements about my own methods. Of course in the end, the final word on my works is simply instinct. Still, it’s difficult to ignore thinking about the process, what things mean, how that might change if used in certain methods or how things turn out if no predetermined structure is used at all. Thinking about such things, whether it’s my own work or another’s, might also simply be considered an extremely interesting habit to pick up. Sometimes you can even catch some composers in apparent contradictions. But how others find a source for a piece, whether the source comes from some sort of instinctive gesture or is more controlled, and how, from that point, the work begins to emerge is what I’m really after. Studying this is like taking an object apart in order to see how it really works. And for me at least, gaining some of that insight has helped in shaping my own process (hopefully for the better).

Again, though, much of this probably doesn’t matter in the end since I tend to value what is composed rather than how it was created. It feels so natural simply listening to something and letting that be the mechanism by which you decide whether something is pleasing or not. The composer Toru Takemitsu, for example, also seems to have been a supporter of this kind of ‘naturalness’. His writings on his approach to composition often speak of nature as being his guide. Reading through his writings it would appear, at least at first, that Takemitsu apparently wasn’t very keen on the idea of using some sort of system for composing where many things are worked out beforehand. He once wrote:

“The technique of constructing sounds through mathematical formulas is trivial. If music consisted only of inventing or constructing sounds I could well do without being a composer. If there is a sound that is alive, some kind of order will naturally exist.”

He also contended:

“If a work depends on technique it will be picked bare by nature, its bleaching bones left to become part of the landscape.”

It certainly seems that that makes a lot of sense. His perspective on composing is simple and refreshing, even though there are still plenty of spaces around these thoughts where you could delve much deeper if you wanted. And though this may not have been his intention, it would seem he had developed a clear system that incorporated nature and instinct into his process whilst successfully, and perhaps naturally, deflecting any pressures or temptations to involve mathematics or some other predetermined system into those methods.

However, after reading the book Creative Sources for the Music of Toru Takemitsu by Noriko Ohtake, I was somewhat surprised to learn that he actually had used a system, on at least one occasion. And this system seems to have been grounded in some form of mathematics as well. In his orchestral work A Flock Descends into the Pentatonic Garden he appears to have used a system based on something he called a ‘Magic Square’. This was a square that created an intervallic pattern based on a five note ‘row’ that he would come up with. We needn’t go too deep into it, but this Magic Square is something that ends up looking like a mini-Babbitt square, except with numbers instead of pitches. And these numbers allowed him to determine intervals throughout the piece; or to put it another way, he used it to construct sounds. Anyway, after looking at it, it seems a mathematical method to me. It certainly is some sort of a formula; that is, something contrary to compositional instinct. He even says himself that this piece “is written according to an unusually rigorous system. Sometimes I change my previous plan with my intuition; but ‘A Flock…’ is written with a very strict row. It is programmed, controlled.” But the author Ohtake also mentions, however, that ‘any analysis of this work would be disappointing by the description above’.

With that in mind, Ohtake also goes on to explain later that:

“To Takemitsu, Number (although perhaps speaking a bit generally about Takemitsu, I think he’s referring mostly to the formula or Magic Square used for the A Flock Descends…) is not a concept to organize his music logically, but rather a means for him on one hand to become accessible to society. But on the other hand, because of its abstract and polysemous distinctions, Number is suitable to define his ‘dream’.”

In this dream, Takemitsu had seen an image of Marcel Duchamp, which portrayed the back of Duchamp’s shaven head with a bald area in the shape of a star; and that night, Takemitsu had a dream where a flock of white birds, led by a blackbird, flew down towards a pentagonal shaped garden; he wanted then, based on this dream, to define the impression in his music using numerical methods. Ohtake goes on:

“An instinctively obtained Number is cosmological (in an orderly universe). Takemitsu says, as in a poised regularity of an old Japanese building or the spatial symmetry in Islamic architecture. Being actualized by a Number, his musical image becomes a part of the process of the world and poses a meaning to society. For that reason, the most meaningful project is acquiring the Number itself, not the numerically derived procedure afterwards, as is formulating a magic square or Pentatonic scale.”

Having thought about all this, and although it does appear that Takemitsu has put himself in some sort of a philosophical contradiction, at least in this instance, it’s important to note that it certainly doesn’t matter to me what he did or didn’t do in order to achieve his works. The sounds he created please me, and that’s what’s important. And in regard to compositional systems, I would never expect anyone to treat composing like it’s a science experiment that can produce the same result every. There’s little interest in that to me, and I wouldn’t like to think of art as something that can become a slave to a system, waiting merely to be manipulated by someone who believes they can control it like some sort of puppet. But what is interesting is that this type of situation, where the composer talks about composing in one manner and actually composes in a way that doesn’t seem to fit within that philosophy, doesn’t seem to be uncommon with many other composers as well. And of course, Takemitsu is just one example of this.

Other composers like Stravinsky allegedly used to make up outrageous stories about his works and their sources, and/or how he composed them. In fact, I distinctly remember hearing a professor once call him ‘a flat out liar’ (certainly that’s not a credible source for being informed on Stravinsky’s methods, but you can Google it if you want). And what about the comparison between two different systems and what they produce? Are John Cage, who adopted a more chance related approach, and Pierre Boulez, who at one point early in his career was mapping out nearly everything before hand, ending up with vastly different results after having embraced very different methods? (Just as a side note, I always wondered if what really bothered Boulez about Cage’s style was that many people might not have been able to hear a massive difference between many of their works, even though Boulez may have labored for long hours over his pieces whilst Cage was incorporating ‘coin flipping’ as a major part of his composing method.)

Of course the last thing that we need to happen is to start having the type of discussions that took place from the mid 20th century and earlier, which involved various individuals or groups of people trying to impose one system on every composer for whatever reason. It seems healthier, inevitable and more sensical to allow each composer to develop and to have their own system. It might seem a bit messier from a broader perspective, but perhaps, as Takemitsu said, some sort of natural order is already present even if it might not be clear yet.

And so, as might be expected, we come back to these questions: where and how do we find a source for a work, and then how do we begin to think about composing a work based on that source? And what sort of tools do we use to poke this idea, in order to extrapolate material from it?

Most of the time, for me at least, the work ends up breaking completely away from whatever structure I may have set out for it originally. But if that’s what happens, then that’s probably okay to do. I wouldn’t want to force a piece to go where it doesn’t want to go. Perhaps that’s an important, often less talked about element of composing: knowing when to back off. Sometimes it’s understandably frustrating, however, to bother coming up with a framework for a piece only to discard it later.

But perhaps this framework is a necessary reference point against which a composer’s thoughts must react. Maybe the composer’s ‘Magic Square’ is simply a rallying cry for some musical revolution (however small that might be). And as the piece goes on, what eventually emerges, we hope, is something that won’t be picked bare by nature. Hopefully it is also something that isn’t burdened by the weight of other meanings, regardless of its source. Maybe it might also be a work that is consistent with whatever philosophical approach we are claiming to have used, and maybe not. Or what if a contradiction is somewhat necessary, even if it doesn’t line up with any aforementioned approaches? Perhaps if anything about other composers and/or their compositional systems is to be emulated, it’s simply that.

Early-Spring Earth recorded in Portland

2010-08-04T21:35:00.000-07:00

My work for flute and piano, Early-Spring Earth, was recorded in Portland at the end of last month. The recording features Sydney Carlson on flute and Aliza Brinton on piano. It was recorded at Portland State University.

The idea for this work came about after connecting with one of Rainer Maria Rilke's poems from his Sonnets to Orpheus. It is sonnet no. 25 in part two (the translation here is by Robert Hunter):

Listen, already you can hear the first rakes
laboring; again the human rhythm
as the hard earth's spring stillness wakes.
Never banal, it seems, what is to come.

What has come to you, so often recurring,
comes again like something new.
You never seized it in the act of preparing
for its advent. Instead, it captured you.

In the oak trees' wintry leaves
evening discerns a brown to be.
Signaling breezes give and receive.

Black are the bushes. Piles of dung
lie blacker yet upon the fields we see.
Passing hours grow ever more young.

ICYH Series Spotlight: Lucia Ronchetti

2010-07-26T14:16:00.000-07:00

Lucia Ronchetti is one of those composers whose music could do some real damage towards breaking down that barrier between contemporary music and people who might not consider themselves contemporary classical music fans. It may not be the same type of audience who, say, could run into Philip Glass' music unexpectedly and come away with a pleasant surprise. But then again, who knows.

Born in Rome in 1963, she studied with Salvatore Sciarrino, and then went on to Paris to study with Gérard Grisey and to do a PhD at the Sorbonne. About her music, Rainer Pöllmann, the Artistic Director at Deutschlandradio Kultur, writes:

She defies easy characterisation, an across-the-board categorisation; she is not easy to understand, not even in words. Thereby she is everything but understated. And despite that, an air of mystery surrounds Lucia Ronchetti. Her music refuses to be stylistically pigeon-holed, and she understands well how to hide that which is her own. Beneath charm, runs temperament and enormous momentum.

I could only find excerpts of her music online, but the clips below should give you enough of a taste. The first piece, titled Xylocopa Violacea, is a Drammaturgia for solo viola and live electronics (2007). The clip below that is titled Die Nase, which is a puppets play for clarinet, cello and piano (1994).

Donnacha Dennehy: Junk Box Fraud

2010-07-16T14:56:00.000-07:00

I was lucky enough to catch a performance of this in York, England back in 2008 at Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall and it was absolutely fantastic. Here's a video of a performance done at Shindig concert, SS Michael & John, Dublin in 2007.

The performers are Laura Moody (red) and Natasha Lohan (blue) and the Crash Ensemble.

Donnacha Dennehy: Junk Box Fraud from Mark Linnane on Vimeo.

'Two Pieces' recorded in Chicago

2010-07-10T19:44:00.000-07:00

My work Two Pieces was finally recorded in Chicago this week. It's a piece in two parts for bassoon and piano, and the recording was done by Accessible Contemporary Music on July 5. You can listen to the entire work at my brand new You Tube channel (Chavezchen):

Hear "Two Pieces"

You can also view an excerpt of the score here:

"Two Pieces" Score Exerpt

I know I've said this a million times, but I'm fully expecting that my work for solo piano will be available at any moment. I'll make another post for that one shortly. Enjoy!

ICYH Series Classic: Morton Feldman

2010-06-30T08:35:00.000-07:00

If you're already familiar with contemporary music, then you're already familiar with the works of composer Morton Feldman. But if you're just discovering new music, or you're somewhere between that and new music guru, you may not be familiar with Mr. Feldman's body of work. And that's one of the main points of this blog: breaking down 'new music barriers'. So for those of you who are interested in delving into contemporary music for the first time, or just delving deeper, the ICYH Series ("In Case You Haven't Heard...") will hopefully create some interest in you about contemporary music by spotlighting composers from a few decades back all the way to today.

I'm not going to get into too much background in these spotlights, especially since, if you become interested enough in the music, I think you'll quite naturally dig for information if necessary. Instead, I'm simply going to let the music speak for itself.

The first work here is "Cello and Orchestra" from 1972. This video is about 8 minutes long and is part one of three; so if you're interested in hearing the other two parts you can easily find them on YouTube as well.

The next piece featured here is called Rothko Chapel from 1971, written for the painter Mark Rothko. This first video is about 9 minutes long and is the first of five parts. One of the best descriptions of this piece is taken from Alex Ross's blog "The Rest is Noise":

"If there is a Holocaust memorial in Feldman’s work, it is “Rothko Chapel,” which was written in 1971, for Rothko’s octagonal array of paintings in Houston. Rothko had committed suicide the previous year, and Feldman, who had become his close friend, responded with his most personal, affecting work. It is scored for viola, solo soprano, chorus, percussion, and celesta. There are voices, but no words. As is so often the case in Feldman’s music, chords and melodic fragments hover like shrouded forms, surrounded by thick silence. The viola offers wide-ranging, rising-and-falling phrases. The drums roll and tap at the edge of audibility. Celesta and vibraphone chime gentle clusters. There are fleeting echoes of past music, as when the chorus sings distant, dissonant chords..."

Sounds and Meaning

2010-06-18T12:39:00.000-07:00

Trying to find meaning in music can be a tricky endeavor. It seems like most of us probably assume that music has meaning, even if we are not aware of what that meaning is, exactly. I think I spent most of my life, at least subconsciously, attaching meaning to music I was listening to or playing. And even as a composer, trying to write music that meant something felt, I think, like a natural reflex; at least some of the time.

Even as recently as 2008 I can remember composing works that were, to a degree, intended to be based on something other than the sounds and silences themselves, even though the basis for these works was probably just 'inspiration' rather than some sort of 'musical depiction' of something else. Somehow this idea of being inspired by something can often become entangled with whatever it is a composer is trying to do musically. You'll hear lots of composers talk about their works as if they are aural representations of a poem or a painting, or even some experience or emotion that they're trying to express. Perhaps not all of the time, but I, too, was definitely one of those composers. And then, something changed.

Like many composers, I became interested in the music, thoughts and writings of John Cage. The funny thing is, that I had discovered him many years before; but for some reason, it wasn't until about a year or two ago that I found something in his words with which I could really connect. In particular, some of his thoughts here, in his appearance in a documentary by Miroslav Sibestik (I'm sorry, but I don't know the name of this documentary):

This seemed, and still seems, to make so much sense to me. I felt like something so simple, yet so liberating, had suddenly become so clear. For some reason it had never occurred to me to look at sounds for what they were rather than some other attached meaning that had been imposed on them. From this point on, I began to feel strongly that there was a great potential for sounds to lose something important whenever I tried to attach some other identity to them. This approach has greatly improved the enjoyment and result of composing sounds, as well as improving the quality of time spent listening to music.

Of course, I still have many questions I would love to ask Mr. Cage, if he were still here with us. For example, if we try to enjoy sounds for what they are, without letting some other identity possess them, then how does that work with text? If a composer writes an opera, then, assuming that this Opera uses words, how are we to interpret the role these words may have played in the composition of the sounds that accompany them? From a listening perspective, it seems more possible not to mix the identities. We could just be hearing some sort of identity-harmony. But in their creation, it's much harder to believe that the text had zero influence on the sounds.

And of course I don't mean to suggest that any music which claims to be an expression of something is invalid or inferior or anything like that. I still find myself trying to absorb these thoughts by Cage. And I'm not sure there's a right answer here. I only mean to say that, for me, it is now more comfortable, whenever I sit down to compose, or whenever I listen to something, to try to see the sounds and silences in their own light, and not something I want to project onto them.

Two Premiere Recordings in Chicago

2010-05-27T09:27:00.000-07:00

Luckily I was able to have a second premiere recording included in next month's session. The work, Two Pieces, for bassoon and piano will be recorded for the first time alongside the premiere recording of my work for solo piano, titled Work in Four Parts. These pieces will be recorded in Chicago in the next few weeks by a group called Accessible Contemporary Music. I've recently connected with ACM, and they're a fantastic group that is tremendously dedicated to playing and recording new music. I'm really looking forward to hearing what they'll do these works.

Anyone interested in taking a peek at the performance/program notes for these pieces can do so here:

Two Pieces

Work in Four Parts

Again, once these recordings are finished I will put a link up and also, since I'm going to post these works on YouTube, put them up directly on the site.

Piano Recording Set For June

2010-05-13T16:24:00.000-07:00

My new piano work titled "Work In Four Parts" is scheduled to be recorded in June, and you will be able to listen to at least some of it as soon as it's done. The Chicago group doing the recording, Accessible Contemporary Music, will feature the work on their website in September.

A second recording of my brand new work for bassoon and piano, titled "Two Pieces", could happen at the same time if I'm able to raise enough funds for it.

Any other updates I get will be posted here. Stay tuned!