Whichblog

Aside from a few baseball games a year I generally have no interest in sports. This changes during the Olympics. I'm hooked (even though I am getting most of my fix from NBC's commercial-heavy coverage, a side effect of which is that I'm in no rush to hear Ravel's Piano Concerto, Lou Reed's "Perfect Day", or Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" any time soon, and I've had enough natural gas and "clean" coal propaganda to last several lifetimes). Whole seasons of professional basketball, hockey, golf, tennis, etc. go by without notice but when the Olympics roll around curling suddenly becomes fascinating. During the Summer Olympics I think nothing of waiting up until three in the morning to watch people shoot air rifles. I assume that athletes compete in sports like speed skating, biathlon, ski jumping, and skeleton outside of the Olympics, but I have no interest in that. What changes? The scale, the increased sense of urgency, the spectacle; the Olympics are the perfect showcase for these athletes who exist outside the "real world", who dwell in millimeters and fractions of seconds. I buy into that, but only because I believe it, and only every two years; in spite of the NBC talking heads, not because of them.

The focus, dedication, sacrifice, and obsession that makes the Olympics so captivating reminds me of some of the supporting characters in William Least Heat-Moon's Roads to Quoz: Glenn Gore (whose life's work is photographing every mile of the Ouachita River), Frank Brusca (who was entering the 30th year of his project documenting the mileposts along Highway 40), and Jean Ingold and her 117 square feet of living space ("The entirety of her belongings could fit into the back of a (small) pickup truck...Ingold had mastered the challenge of living thin, or, in a self-effacing explanation, 'I'm poor at owning.'" "Her carbon footprint was that of a house cat."), to name a few. I love the impracticality of it all. It is ambition, but not the common, modern-day American idea of ambition, not a blind quest for ownership and money. This is especially true in the case of the first two Quoz characters, whose projects must require considerable expenditures. Money is a means to an end and not a goal; you can't take it with you, but (to borrow one of the themes of Blue Highways) you can use it to leave something behind. Or, like Ms. Ingold, you can eschew money and leave behind a different kind of gift to the rest of us: the Earth in better shape than you found it. (I'm not doing her justice, her chapters have to be read to be believed. To connect this entry to the music world, I found Ingold's story touching in the same way I am touched by Alec Wilder's "two suitcase life"; being poor at owning is close to my heart.) No, here knowledge is the goal, pure in the sense that no regard was paid to how marketable it is or how it looks on a résumé. Knowledge for the sake of knowing, for the sake of being the one undisputed expert on one small corner of the world. Lesser minds dismiss these people as quirky, eccentric, or worse, not realizing that to look past one's nose is to learn.

As someone who isn't interested in networking or silly ostentatious displays like broadcasting job titles, degrees, awards, etc. on every email, blog post, and web page (I think if you're the only one talking about your accomplishments then chances are you haven't done a whole lot worth talking about; let your work and other people do that for you), I have come to comfortable terms with the fact that most of the people who perform music I had a hand in making do so because they just happened to stumble upon my website. Or, and I hope this is the case, they were steered to my work by positive word of mouth. There's a serendipitous quality there that I like and is ultimately more rewarding for me than overselling myself.

My real concerns lie in what people see when they do find me. For potential customers that means providing enough information about the music that they feel comfortable taking a chance on someone they have probably never heard of. A blessing and curse in that regard is the computer generated mp3 files I post on my site. I have flip-flopped on this over the years, but ultimately enough people requested them that I now upload them for most pieces as I add them to my catalog. The technology and sound quality are improving, but let's face it, the end result can range anywhere from terrible to fake and uninteresting. I often find myself- after the piece is made and the engraving completed- going back over the score for the sole purpose of improving the mp3 file: shading dynamics, fixing the balance, making sure the tempo changes are there, correcting articulations, and on and on. At a point it becomes frustrating and far removed from what I really want to be doing. I could spend hours on each file, but I'd rather spend that time working on the next piece. But it is a useful tool, one that I use when purchasing music, and you have to trust that others recognize it as such and not a substitute for a live performance or recording of real people playing real instruments. It gives an idea of a piece, and I know that people will use their imaginations while listening to it, deciding whether or not to hand over their money and give the music a hearing in the real world. Still, a part of me wants to plaster my site with disclaimers: this piece will sound better when you play it, trust me.

And what about that instant when the performer puts the piece on the music stand for the first time? How much time is given to a new piece before the performers decide it's worth rehearsing and performing? Or decide to toss it back in the filing cabinet? I asked myself these questions recently while picking out music for a concert as part of a wind trio. We played through a stack of music (some of it by sight reading), keeping the stuff we liked and vetoing the stuff we didn't. How much of a piece can one absorb after one run through? It's possible we passed on an unknown gem that day, or maybe not. Who knows? It's part of the process; all performers have made these quick judgments, after sight reading or a cursory glance at a few pages of the score. I keep this first run through in my mind while I'm composing. I won't be there (and I'm not sure I want to) but I want to be as clear as possible in order to give my strange little creations a fighting chance. For my most recent piece, Belly Dancing for Fun and Profit, this meant keeping the whole piece in the same time signature and tempo (and making sure there were ample and useful cues in the individual parts, but that's something we should do anyway). I'm not sure it makes it much easier to perform, but it does take away a few variables and, I hope, lend some transparency to the music. Making those decisions ahead of time makes me a better composer, and if it takes a bit of concision to get me past that first run through, I'm all for it.

I just finished sprucing up and slightly reworking some old material; Canción Breve for English horn & cello and a little canon for violin and cello are now available for download on my works page. Ok sounding computer generated mp3 files for some pieces have been added as well.

The Wa-Wan Press was founded in 1901 by Arthur Farwell. For a little over a decade he ran the operation from his house, doing most everything associated with the enterprise by himself.

Farwell's "Object of the Movement":

The Wa-Wan Press, at Newton Center Massachusetts, is an enterprise organized and directly conducted by composers, in the interest of the best American compositions. It aims to promote by publication and public hearings, the most progressive, characteristic, and serious works of American composers, known or unknown, and to present compositions based on the melodies and folk-lore of the American Indians.

The "Indianist" label applied to Farwell- while correct- is simplistic and packed with negative connotations (not Farwell's fault- he is misunderstood, and good students, in the name of enlightenment, are trained to turn up their noses at such things), and fails to take his work in other areas of music into account. From New Grove:

Farwell was an eclectic and prolific composer, with an extraordinary variety of musical interests. His music covers a very wide spectrum, from community choruses to tiny songs on poems by Emily Dickinson, from masques and pageants to polytonal studies for piano.

His later work is particularly hard to track down. I have found recordings of a few Dickinson songs and orchestral works, a handful of scores, and that's it.

I plan on releasing some of Farwell's Wa-Wan work, in original versions as well as transcriptions. It is music I have been studying anyway, I might as well try to push it out into the public a little bit. First up is his To Morfydd, in its original version for oboe and piano and in a transcription for oboe and string quartet.

I just finished a new piece- Elder Ballads, a pretty little thing for oboe/English horn trio. I will probably transcribe it for other combinations soon.

I just completed a new oboe duet, Appalachian Reel, partly as a kind of etude for my own playing (slurring to high E, for those keeping score at home), and partly as a way to get in touch with my inner copy-and-paster. I started the piece a week ago after reading Kyle Gann's Composing Generously blog post. For the last few years I have tended to stay away from literal (and almost literal) repetition in my music: it has been done to death, it's lazy, etc. Sometimes when I hear a work for the first time, after listening to the first phrase or two, I try to predict what will happen next: melodic treatment, changes of harmony and instrumentation, that sort of thing. I'm correct more often than not, not because I think that's what should happen, or because I think that will be most interesting, but simply because that's what has been done before. When something is really obvious or cliched it is cringe inducing. I'm a self conscious musician anyway. That, coupled with the fear of being one of those composers, makes me really shy about ever hitting Apple-V while I'm writing. Mr. Gann's article provided some enlightenment and much needed perspective. I can't sum it up or say it any better than he did in his first paragraph; I really learned something. I'll go slow, there's a line I absolutely do not want to cross: that which goes to the hyper copying and pasting of some computer aided composers, where those few key clicks are transformed from a tool into a crutch. I don't know if it's a far reaching trend or if I've been hanging around some bad music lately, but some contemporary chamber wind and wind ensemble composers seem to be the worst offenders, copying and pasting up and down the score. (When did idiomatic become a dirty word?) It is especially obtrusive (and sometimes amusing) when a mistake is duplicated over and over in a score; one bad seed at the start of the piece goes unnoticed and is soon propagated throughout the work. Forget generosity, they are killing us with kindness.

The new governor of Arizona (thanks, Ms. Napolitano) has let the pit bulls in the state legislature out of their cages to slash and burn the state as they see fit. First stop, education. I caught a clip of her on tv recently. To paraphrase: cuts in funding are not just about lowering taxes, they are about increasing freedom for everyone. Less public funding equals more freedom. I don't follow.

What more do they want to cut? In the most current data I could find Arizona ranks 45th in per capita higher education spending and dead last in spending per K-12 student. I didn't realize how free the students of Arizona were already!

There are dissenting viewpoints. John Adams (the 2nd president of the US, not the composer) :

I must study politics and war, that our sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. Our sons ought to study mathematics and philosophy, geography, natural history and naval architecture, navigation, commerce and agriculture in order to give their children a right to study painting, poetry, music, architecture, statuary, tapestry and porcelain.

Look at the words: liberty, right.

Today, words like freedom and liberty seem to be tossed around and used most often by those who want to take them away, by those who want to limit what others say and do in order that we should all follow the same narrow path ("I didn't do fill in the blank and I turned out ok, you don't need to do it either."). Do they think we won't notice? Or by using the concept of freedom - the most treasured and revered ideal in this country - do they count on us being too fearful to question or criticize their words and actions?

What is freedom but choice? Demolishing a state's educational system accomplishes nothing but limiting choice, or worse, taking choices away from kids before they are even aware such choices exist. To those about to drive this state into the ground, what freedoms are you bestowing on the students of Arizona? The freedom to be even further behind students in other states and countries? The freedom to not have a chance at a good job after graduation? Freedom from learning, from inspiration, from growth, from unpopular ideas and tough decisions? Freedom from thought? If those in charge succeed their job becomes easier. Fewer people will care, even fewer will question their rhetoric. If dissent and thought are squelched long enough the day will come when the protests have vanished completely and we will be grateful for those who strip us of rights and opportunities. When education is cut enough we will be too ignorant to care when we are lied to, too numb to question when the work of those who came before us is cheapened, ignored, and thrown away. We will be too free to give a damn.

Lutoslawski conducting his Chain 1 with the London Sinfonietta. The whole performance is worth watching, but the moment at 8:49 stands out. When is the last time you saw a conductor communicate with a smile? No flailing, choreography, grunting, or dripping sweat; just a big grin and pure joy.

Around. You know how it is. I lost all my sketches and pieces-in-progress in a hard drive crash so I had to start from scratch. I just finished two pieces for string trio; download them from my bio page. I hope to have my trio for oboe, bassoon, and piano finished by the end of the year. I suppose this is where I insert the phrase found on nearly every blog ever written, the one where I promise to make more regular updates. Consider it done. This is a relief, I'm sure, to the two of you out there who read this. You won't have to wait 5 months for new entries. I hope to cut it down to 3 or 4.

Pass the word, the Whichpond Music Duet Sale continues through the end of July. Over 90 books are available at a discount price in the online store. Grab a friend and play some duets, or, if you're really good, play them by yourself.

Trying to pull my head out of the clouds - an update from the last month:

I reached a personal milestone; I finished my 500th publication in June. Back when I first started doing this getting to 500 was my goal, I'm not sure why. I guess the rationale was that at 500 everything would be OK: I would have enough pieces available for enough combinations that a lull in sales wouldn't have too much of an effect on my bottom line, or that there would be enough variety in the catalog to ensure a stream of new customers even if I couldn't crank out new stuff fast enough for the regulars. As every small goal or milestone approaches I find myself thinking that this is when I will finally turn the corner. I'm practically giddy with anticipation. As 500 approached I even made a frantic push to get there faster. This is it; this is when things get easier. When I finally snap back to reality I'm surprised by how long it has taken me to realize that this is not the case. It will always be a struggle, of course. 500 is just like 499, which will be just like 600, or 1000, or wherever I decide to stop. After all, how many folks out there play in chamber music groups? And how many of those play "classical" music? And how many of those are in the market for new music? And how many of those use the internet to find music? And how many of those will find something interesting in my catalog? And of those people how many will take a chance buying from someone they have probably never heard of? On and on. At that point it is way too easy to slip in to a stream of endless questioning. On the surface the questioning and self-examination appears useful, but then I realize that a couple of hours, or days, or weeks have gone by and I haven't gotten any work done. The guy I am when I work towards my silly goals is overly optimistic, quixotic, and probably delusional to a certain degree, but at least he is making something. I have to be content with that. Any questioning beyond "How can I be a better musician?" will lead to a complete stoppage; at that point trying to be a better musician or trying to make something worthwhile becomes impossible.

So, a thank you to everyone who has found (or will find) this odd little web site and decided (or will decide) to buy some music from me. And I send a big thank you to the regulars. That something I have a hand in making is useful or enjoyable to other musicians is a simple concept that I allow to sink in occasionally. Simply put, it's a nice feeling.

The final segment from Jim Jarmusch's Coffee and Cigarettes: