Choral Composition Highlight: Herbert Howells and his requiem.

So, I thought I'd share/talk about a lesser known yet incredibly respected choral work, Herbert Howells' Requiem. As relatively niche choral music can be, Howells is even further ostracized. He's a composer who is especially performed in British circles and Anglican/Episcopalian church yet has trouble escaping that general crowd. So...in other words, he's one of those composers "you either know or don't know."

To add salt to the wound, the Requiem is a work which has only recently been performed. Why? Howells actively hid the work and wouldn't allow it to be performed. It's not that he felt shame over the Requiem. Rather, it's the same reason everybody seems to love most 20th century/romantic works: it was too personal a work. Requiems are masses written for the dead, and sometime around 1930 Howells was commissioned to write one. As he was writing the work, his son tragically and suddenly died during the writing processes. Stricken with grief, Howells completed the work and locked it in a drawer, refusing to let it be performed (or let anybody know it was written) for 50 years. Thankfully, the work has been receiving a lot of attention and performances recently, and it's quickly become one of his more talked about works.


At any rate, I think the work is worth sharing (especially if you don't know it) because of the emotional power it packs while existing in that lovely quasi-tonal world a lot of early 20th century choral works seems to sit in. The work is very modal in nature, using an almost plain-song like melody in the first movement selected. I've also included the final movement as an example of the wide scope of emotions the work covers. While there's no "happy" or even "peaceful" section of the work, Howells does cover a wide range of emotions in the work ranging from outright rage to quiet defeat to an almost bittersweet admittance of passing on. I highly recommend listening to the entire work-it's seriously worth it (though tissues may be needed!)

Look! Pedagogical Music!

Look! A pedagogical piece! I'm happy to share another work from my recital, and one of the opening pieces: Fanfare 263 for Euphonium/Tuba Quartet. Writing for amateur/high school kids is something hard for me to do, yet something I feel any composer worth their salt should be able to do. This is the end-product. Enjoy!

Activism in Music...or something like that. (It's kind of Gay)

So...it's been a while again. The name of the game in what I've been thinking about lately is Activism in music.

While the thought often fills me with bile (I'm kind of an Absolute music kind of person,) I have noticed a trend in socially/politically charged music popping up lately.  This is a soapbox I love and hate at the core of my being. Artists moonlight as commentators and activists for society. Even if we choose to shun and pull ourselves away from our environment, we are deeply and profoundly influenced by the workings with deal with each day. While Johnny Red Herring while pain it red seals to highlight the blood of all animals spilt, even the quiet, absolute-artist artist comments on society by actively pulling away from it. With that in mind, I've been forcing myself to get "involved in the world" as an artist. What the worst thing that can come from trying to get actively involved...other than exposing myself by saying "HEY! I BELIEVE X!!!!"

The set I'm working on is, something I actively fight for and believe in, LGBT (or just plain human) Rights. Simply put, no matter where an individual stands on sexuality and religious matters, most debated LGBT rights are completely secular in nature. Our governments, insurance companies, laws and taxes are completely blind to color, race, religion, gender and sexuality. The fact that it's even brought up on being "morally right or wrong" completely flabbergasts me...but enough of that.

What I did decide to do, rather than poke somebody's eye out with a propaganda wand, is make a case by example. Rather than saying: "Hey! Gay people are A-okay!!!" I want to show it using something quite universally accepted in the western world-love poetry. Somebody's sexuality is a much more complicated relationship than who they're getting in bed with. At its core, relationships are built on love and want to be around somebody. In other words: sexuality deals with the (romantic, not spiritual sense of the word) love people have for each other. Each movement in this cycle is a love poem written by a famous poet who was Gay, Lesbian or Bisexual. Additionally, each movement talks about a different form of Love. As I put it in a recent recital: "The work is a commentary of the psychology of love as told by the LGBT community."
Ultimately, the only thing "Gay" about the work is the sexuality of the poets. Besides that, it's just a simple collection of love poetry everybody can recognize and empathize with. There is no magic pedestal separating Hetero and Homosexuality. They have minor differences...but at their core, they're the same thing.

Soon™, the entire set will be performed. Until then, here're some excerpts from the cycle. The movements are:

II: Bury (Shame through love-Sara Teasdale)
IV: Jars (Unrequited yet uncaring love-Amy Lowell)
V: Black (Self-Righteousness and Self-Worth through Love, Shakespeare)
VI: Springtime (Giddiness and Impetousness from love, Sara Teasdale)
VIII: Grass (Contentment through wholistic, love of and for the Divine, Walt Whitman)

"Bouree" from That's Suite!

Yaaaaaaay!


So I'm a little late to the party posting this, but this year was kind of a big deal for me. I'm kind of a huge fan of collaborative works. The idea of writing for somebody and with them along the process is so much more fun, engaging and rewarding process than dumping ink on paper and praying somebody will play your work.

Amy Leventhal, the violist in this work, is a great friend of mine. She's the embodiment of the phrase "Dance to the beat of your own drum." We share a love of eachother's music and relish in our "out there" moments. Unlike me, she's a performer with a record to prove. She was the associate chair (for viola) in a little orchestra called the Atlanta Symphony for 20 years. That's right, she's served on conductors like Robert Shaw, Yoel Levi and Robert Spano (just some big names.) The best part by far is getting her to relieve pieces she's enjoyed or recounting composers/conductors whose company she relishes.

When she came to me last year saying she wanted a work written, I was completely honored and floored.  On top of that, the work was a personal one in nature. The instrumentation of the work: Bassoon, Viola and Piano. All three of the instrumentalists are good friends who have a rich history of performing and just having fun together. I had to write a work for the three of them in a concert they were throwing together. Easy peasy (Yeah right!)


This work has caused me more stress than anything else I've ever written before. Not because the writing was hard, but because I had to write something perfect for a good friend commissioning a personal work. Finally, I decided on writing something I enjoy and throwing it their way. I went the route of Neo-Baroque and decided to write a revived French-Baroque suite....of sorts. It has a lot of the elements in one. A big fanfare type opening, some airier movements. A couple of rhythm games and a perpetual rhythm motion. This is one of the dances from "That's Suite!" More are coming, I promise!!!!

On a side note, I can't stress enough how amazing Laura Gordy, Pat Gunter and Amy are. My jaw basically dropped while they were in rehearsal.

Yet another....Atonality Rant

Okay. I have to be that composer who talks about atonal music. Atonality is one of those funky things which means one thing yet, thanks to public perception means something entire different. I've heard non-stop, both from the “uneducated” folk and people who hold doctorates, a common misconception that “atonal” music means music which is harsh, dissonant, unaccessable. “Atonality” is practically a synonym for “bad music” the way some people use. Hell, I've even had somebody tell me “Atonal music happened in the early 20^th century, and then we went back to pretty music.”

Frankly, I'm fucking tired of people mislabeling an entire genre of music.

Let's get one thing out of the way first. “Atonal” does not mean “ugly.” “Atonal” means “Non-tonal.” That's really all there is to it. Atonal music is music which isn't based around a tonal center. What's a tonal center, you ask? If the music has a pitch which you can hum/sing find as it progresses on, then it has a tonal center. That's all there is to it.

In all technicalities, Debussy wrote atonal music. Every time he used a whole tone or symmetrical scale to hide a tonal center, he was experimenting with atonal music. I have a hard time finding people who find Debussy's music completely unlistenable. Most people absolutely fawn over his music. He's frequently listed as a major inspiration for living composers, and is usually the first composer of the 20^th century covered. That's pretty impressive for a 19^th century composer! Yes, Schoenberg is the patron saint of serialist music, but does he sound like Debussy? Does Messiaen? Boulez? How about Hindemith? How about Strauss? Do any of these composers sound like each other? Each of them wrote atonal music, and each composer approached their music in completely different ways.

I used to guest lecture in music appreciation classes when the students began studying atonal music. I stressed repeatedly that atonal music is NOT “ugly.” It's “different.” I treat atonal music the way one treats a foreign language; before you're used to dealing with it, it sounds quite awkward and confusing. The more time spent trying to understand it the more it starts to make sense. Afterwards, I always started with excerpts from Hindemith's Ludus Tonalis suite. Ludus Tonalis is arguably not atonal. Technically, the work exploits tonal rules in order to end with an atonal sound. The tonal centers shift so fast the listener can't latch onto.

Here's a sample of what I'd use (it is, in fact, my favorite movement from the suite): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxgJcP65IQE

Ultimately, I'm not saying people need to like all music. I'm still convinced it'll be a cold day in hell before I like Wagner. However, DON'T bash and trash and entire SPECTRUM (not genre) of music simply because you or your teacher mislabeled two pieces!

Practice Makes Perfect. Writing makes better.

I'm gonna take a moment and share a secret with all my composition friends-being a composer sucks. Oh don't get me wrong: being a composer is amazing, wonderful and all that crap. However, the actual art of learning to write music is frustrating. Composers don't really get a practice room. We can't pick up the magical instrument of composing and just practice for an hour each day. Rather, composers practice by doing.

There're a lot of fields where there is just no good substitute for actually practicing the craft. Composition is one of these things. I often get compliments on my craftsmanship or attention to rhythms/interactions of parts, and my response is always the same: I continue to get there by experimenting and practicing.

One of the ways I've found composers can make up for not having a practice room is to practice an idea when composing. Yes, I know a lot of composers (including myself) don't particularly care for theory. However, there is a clear difference between studying theory and theorizing in a class on your own. Sitting down and analyzing a score is only one half of the goal in a theory class- as composers we're supposed to experiment and play with ideas. I've found in my own experience the greatest thing a composer can do is place limitations on himself (rules for a game, if you will). The more you constrict yourself in a work, the harder you have to think of escaping the trap of monotony while following the rules you have set before yourself. I started doing this when I was just beginning private lessons, and it's something I still do to this day. Sometimes I write something absolutely amazing, other times I write absolute shit. The major thing is that I at least attempt at it, look at what I've done, and process the information.

There are a couple of elements one can look at when composing, and a bunch of areas composers can think about when writing music. Some of these elements include:

• Melody
• Harmony
• Rhythm
• Texture
• Mood
• Gesture
• Phrasing
• Form

Ergo, when writing there are a ton of ways we can analyze a particular element in the art of music writing and attempt to play with it. For example: some of the ideas I've used for myself in the past:

• The work must have at least one of two notes played in every chord
• The piece must constantly shift the feeling of the down beat without changing meter
• The work must strictly be in Ternary Form
• All Phrases must last for 3 bars exactly.
• My melody can only consist of five notes

Ultimately what I'm trying to say is the only way to get better is to actively look at and analyzing your own music. Just some food for thought.

"Over-Romanticizing" Art

For the majority of this week, I've been spending my time thinking about, for lack of better term, “the past.” Last sunday I had the privilege of performing in Florence Kopleff's memorial recital, and to say it was star-studded is a mild statement. People from all across the nation came to honor a woman who worked with the famous monolith known as Robert Shaw. Story after story after story was told, making people laugh about this larger than life woman. Some of her favorite art songs were performed, many tears were spilled and several larger than life people showed up to metaphorically tilt their head in acknowledgment and lay a flower on her grave.

While the service was amazing and truly heart-felt, it serves as a beautiful example of a tragedy I see plaguing musical arts. A little line thrown away during the service tickled my ear and caught my attention: “Florence Kopleff loved and was a champion of American art song.” This was a big deal to hear. Speaking as an American composer living in a world of German lieder and French chanson, -all- American art song is, comparatively, a brand new tradition barely a century old.

It's impossible to find American art song which is traditionally “classical” by many of the high-art crowd. Additionally, for what little respect the western world has had for the sung English language, even less interest is given to Americans. Our culture is one which has traditionally imported other people to write music for us, perform for us, conduct for us and lecture us on how our brothers in Europe are artistically and culturally superior. Any person interested in backing American art is one who should be celebrated as they're supporting an underdog on the cultural. However, for a woman who seemed to have such a fiery passion for what is essentially my music, only romantic lieder was sung in remembrance of her.

With the exception of what the choir sung, every single person sung European baroque and romantic music. There is nothing wrong with this music whatsoever; anybody who spends 20 seconds talking to me knows I absolutely love the canon as much as the next classical freak. However, this statement about Kopleff loving American song was completely ignored. It was simply tossed away to pay respect to her personality yet covered up with beautiful lieder. In short, it was what I called “over-romanticized.”

Classical music is shooting itself in the foot. There's a major splintering formed by many people with varying interests lumped together under one banner labeled “high art.” All you have to do is look up any J.S. Bach work on youtube (especially one performed on period instruments) and you catch a storm of people proudly proclaiming how Bach is truly the only greatest musician who ever lived and all music today should take a lesson from him. Did art completely die after 1750? Do we simply exist in a dark void of lifelessness waiting patiently for Saint Bach to appear from the Rhineland and announce with majestic trumpet the return of civilization and second coming of Christ? Am I the only one who thinks, for as mind-bogglingly amazing Bach is, he not only had his musical flaws, but also is only a piece in the amazing kaleidoscope of art mankind has made? I know for a fact I'm not the only one both amazed by the writing of the kyrie in the b-minor mass and bored out of my mind after hearing only 6 words repeated endlessly for 30 minutes.

Conversely, it wasn't too long ago we lived in a musical world where students were told they must write in a certain style or face the threat of not contributing to the future. I know people my age who look down upon anybody brave and foolish enough to write something purely tonal (especially high classical tonality). I find myself seemingly surrounded by people aligning themselves in certain camps. It seems more in vogue to label what you're doing as correct and something uninteresting or uninformed than to be willing to cross bridges and live a “hybrid life” of some sort. This sort of personality is the same as somebody over-romanticizing something they remember or think about: it's a gross simplification of what you adore and what you find uninteresting in order to justify why you like what you like.

After Sunday, I was invited to a masterclass with the Alice Parker. This woman is a big deal. She got to work with the musical god of Atlanta and still stands as a pillar of all things choral music writing. To say she knows how a choir works is a gross understatement, and any chance I could get to pick her brain is one I would pay big money for. Within 5 minutes of hearing her talk though, I realized how much injustice I was doing to her. Alice has done so much more than simply work with Robert Shaw; after 50 years she's gone on to continue composing, start her own critically acclaimed choir and publish a hymnal and book on melody. I however, was going to ask her about a time in her life which literally ended before my parents were born. Some of the students in the masterclass seemed to ignore the fact she's developed her own merits and wanted instead to ask her about Shaw. How did Shaw teach you? What did you learn from Shaw? Did that time with Shaw shape your career for life? How tall was he? Was Shaw left handed or right handed?

The worst part: in her reaction you could tell that not only was she kind of frustrated by it, but she'd grown so used to it she accepted it and responded as matter-of-factly she could.

Later, when she worked with the choir, she boldly stated that one of the works we sang was not how she had wanted it performed at all: it was simply notated the way Shaw had it performed. This little statement blew my mind. Not only had she been simplified by myself and people around me, but even her own merits and creations as a composer seemed to suffer the same fate. When looking back, it's much easier to say how much weight and power Robert Shaw had in influencing American classical culture. Surely, by that logic, if she was paired with him in collaborative work, she clearly must've taken everything he said as gospel and only eagerly agreed. If he was absolutely correct in all things culture, she obviously must've followed the same vein. Indeed: even something she pulled out of her own soul to set on the page must agree EXACTLY with how Shaw said it was done, and we therefore don't need to ask her opinion on things when notating or publishing her own works.

I call bull-shit. Her relationship with Shaw, if not our perception of her entirely, has been over-romanticized. It's not until I got to talk with her and hear her own words I came to realize she was a completely separate person, just as amazing and inspiring in completely different ways. Talking with her and hearing her own opinion on things, seeing her in action and having the privilege to sing under her (metaphorical) baton was a blessing in itself- how dare I consider her as simply “somebody who worked with Robert Shaw.” In the same vein of what I had said earlier: she in particular is interested in capturing truly vernacular music. She wants “her spirituals to have soul.” and “to feel the wringing of your hands and pouring out your heart” in her blues-like songs. To try and combine classical music with blues is heresy, and something to be completely ignored if not outright shunned. We forget Ravel's bi-tonal blues movement in his violin sonata, Bartok's tireless work to bring hungarian folk music artistic “purity” and Poulenc's french folk songs notated for various mediums