rest in piece (of music)

Yesterday I was scheduled to play keyboard for the funeral of our church secretary's dad (her sister is also a member of the church; both are strong members of the church's music ministry as well). I stopped on the way at church to pick up my keyboard, speakers, various cables, keyboard stand, music stand, and music--and somehow fit them in the car around my golf clubs and assorted music books, Starbucks cups, and other detritus that comes from almost living in one's car...or, in my case, just really bad housekeeping.

I had some time before I needed to leave for the funeral home, so I did some organ practice for Sunday and looked for a last few pieces of music to fill out my music chart through Easter. Well, I started to work on the chart, then noticed that I needed a men's piece for the women's retreat weekend, and that I needed about 6 choral introits. "Why not just write my own?" I thought. I was thinking of the introits, and that six would make a nice set. But I decided to check the scriptural references for the Sunday of the men's piece. The Isaiah reading (Is. 43:18-21 for those who are keeping score) looked promising.

The text suggested an interesting melodic fragment...and I didn't need much more. I finished seven measures--it looked like that might be the intro--and knew what my next chord would be. But it was time to go to the funeral. While there was a sense of sadness, there was also joy that the pain of illness was gone, and a sense of hope for something believed but not seen.

As soon as I returned to the church to put my gear away, the piece took over and within an hour was done. I wanted it simple but not simplistic (although I can never be as simple as I'd like!). Contemporary but appropriate for a choral group. And just plain fun to sing. I'll know when we start rehearsing the piece whether I succeeded, but it was a joy to write. You can find the score at adamsworks.com. As soon as I have an mp3 I'll add a link for it.

Rest in peace, Ken; this piece is for you. You were clearly music for the ears of family and friends.

A piece of you will be music to my ears.

a (not quite) silent night 3

Well, the Christmas Eve services went quite well. The early service was a bit of a zoo, with lots of children underfoot. The 40 or so who led us in Go Tell It On The Mountain were fun to watch and listen to. The middle service was quieter, with lots of candles. The choir recycled a couple of pieces from their earlier-in-the-month Choir Sunday. While it fit together quite nicely, I'd like to get a little more ambitious next year. We couldn't get as fancy as the late service I played, with a half hour of music prior to the start of the service, because our service is too early in the evening (yeah, I know: have it start later--but traditions need to be handled quite gingerly...). The last service, after a half-hour drive, was quite different.

It was a sung Episcopal Eucharist. No smells (incense) but we did have some bells. The small choir presented a half-hour of music (various anthems were exhumed--I'm being unfair; they were charming, and directed with vigor and intelligence, but not up to the level of the service, imho). Guitar and clarinet and a very nice vocal solo of--what else?--O Holy Night completed the recital. A couple more anthems, plus several hymns and chants rounded out the service. Our afternoon had started about 4:30 with a contemporary ensemble practice and ended about 12:30 the next morning with the conclusion of the sung Eucharist (I brought out Bach's In Dir ist Freude to close things off.) We were ready for bed. My fingers felt as though they had run a marathon, carrying me along in the process...

And next morning (Christmas day) up at 7:00 to head off for a pleasant Sunday/Christmas Day service. Almost half the choir was there to lead hymns. A fun carol sing. "Anything as long as it's in the Christmas section..." I'm delighted that the rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus from Messiah was in a different part of the hymnal--although part of me (NOT my fingers!!!) was tempted to call it out anyway.

The week has been relatively quiet, and my fingers have enjoyed the break. My main push this week has been to plan music through Easter (mid-April this year). And write at least one last piece of music for the year. I'm planning some comments on it in my next post (you've heard of unintended consequences? I often end up with unintended music!).

May the year's end and the start of the new year be music to your ears.

rehearsal as poetry

I received a delightful, unexpected gift about a week ago. (Actually, gifts are best if they are unexpected!) Stan Morner, a choir member at Lafayette-Orinda Presbyterian Church, brought a copy of the Carquinez Poetry Review by The Yarn Boutique. He had taken some of his notes from a rehearsal of my Pentecost cantata and fashioned them as only a poet can into a delightful poem about the rehearsal. I was very pleased and a bit overwhelmed. I asked Stan if I could post the poem on my blog and he gave me permission.

THE COMPOSER CONDUCTS A LAST REHEARSAL OF HIS NEW CANTATA FOR PENTECOST

No lingering on "Dark-ness"
and remember the "Spir-it"
doesn't slow down.
But hold "Jesus al-ive"
until the diminuendo
at "Je-ru-sa-lem."

We all come in together
on "The breath of God."
Enjoy the chord.
You can breathe later.

"There appeared to them
tongues as of fire."
Forte on the "tongues."
We don't get pianissimo
until "Hea-ven."

Watch me for signs
"On the earth be-neath"
and on "the moon into blood."
I'll give you plenty of cues
until "we shall all be saved."

Finally, some last advice.
If you make a mistake,
make it loud.

Now, let's go kick
some spiritual butt.

[Copyright 2005 by Stan Morner. All rights reserved. Used by permission.]

Music to my ears...and eyes. Now, should I set this to music? Perhaps with a choir singing the quotes from the lyrics? A soloist or narrator on the poem? And what about the rest of the poetry review? Might I find other poems that sing to me? For now I'm enjoying the resonance, the connections with last spring's rehearsals and performance, the energy and excitement, the moments of beauty amidst the uncertainty of presenting a new piece of music. Yup. Definitely music...

a (not quite) silent night 2

I got distracted in my last post. Although the title fits my recent activities, I was really headed toward Christmas Eve. It was going to be quite simple this year (I'm assuming my gentle readers--all three or four--are quite aware of my work as a church organist). Then I was asked to play a late service. A reasonable 30-minute drive, with only a slight bit of panic as I leave later than planned and encounter unexpected traffic, and I'm good for another hour and a half! So I said no thank you...the first time.

The Director called back. Couldn't find anyone else. Could I play even though I had some time constraints? Soft spot for colleague in a jam. Last bit of cash for the year didn't hurt...

The biggest time crunch comes at the end of the service at the church I serve regularly. At the end of the service, everyone files out to the courtyard for a rendition of Silent Night, holding something resembling a candle. So I have to play some transition music while getting ready to lead the singing and clean up music, instruments, and so on for a speedy departure. I decided that an electronic setting of SN might help--not thinking (as my spouse lovingly pointed out) that I would still have to put the keyboard away. I'll find a workable solution in the next few days.

In the meantime, I've had fun creating an arrangement of SN, starting with some orchestral instruments (well, electronic versions of same). I saved the result as a .wav file, loaded it into Audacity (a great little program at a wonderful price), tinkered with it a bit (normalize, some bass boost, plus some delay), and here you are: Silent Night Sequence.

Merry Christmas. May the new year bring lots of music to your ears.

a (not quite) silent night

After the week I spoke of in my last post (six concerts in 8 days) I was happy to have things slow down...until I got asked on Thursday if I would play in two concerts the upcoming weekend, with the first concert the next evening. "And why not?" I thought: "It's less than I did last week!" It had its fun moments, as I was playing harpsichord on the Baroque selections while the regular accompanist doubled the chorus on organ, playing some of the accompaniment figures as well. Then there was the one piece I played piano on, where I heard it with the chorus for the first time during the concert itself! There was no room for errors...

The concert had some musical moments (the chorus was an unauditioned community group of seniors: lots of energy and enthusiasm). I had never heard the Pergolesi Magnificat we did, and found it to be a rather pleasant piece. The Domine Deus duet from the Bach B-minor isn't a favorite of mine; the continuo part I was reading was terribly over-written, so I spent most of the piece leaving stuff out.

I'll have a couple other posts coming up soon: one on a poem a local poet (Stan Morner) wrote about a rehearsal I led, the other on some new music I've written (in the midst of all these concerts I still found time to write).

I hope that at least one of my new pieces will be music to your ears, as well as to mine...

Vivace

Well, if the week coming up doesn't pass quickly, it won't be for lack of effort. Between now and 8 days from now, I perform in the equivalent of 6 concerts (4 different, since two repeat), with various rehearsals associated with them (one is a Sunday service, but with six anthems by the choir it starts to resemble a concert, even as we try to keep a spiritual focus on the morning). And I start a new organ student this morning: a choral director with keyboard chops who would like to understand more about the organ, with a focus on registration and its midi extensions. What a great week!

The WomenSing concerts I mentioned in an earlier post take place this week (Dec 4 and 7). My role is relatively minor. I've put as much effort into preparing the organ part for the organ/piano piece I wrote for the event as I have for the six pieces I accompany! Christmas Toccata is going well; the pianist and I both enjoy the ensemble.

I was asked a few days ago if I would fill in for one of the UC Berkeley music department's choral groups on concerts on the 7th and 10th (Charpentier's Messe de Minuit). It should be fun playing a small continuo organ for the concert.

My church choir has been working quite hard for the last 6 weeks getting ready for Music Sunday (I'm trying to change the name of the event to Choir Sunday, since we have more than one musical group). Where they've often done a cantata in place of the sermon, I'm dispersing their pieces throughout the service in a modified Lessons and Carols format. I'm pleased with their progress, and looking forward to the service, coming near the end of my musical marathon.

The last event, while the shortest, is in some ways the most complicated: the children's Christmas Pageant. The children's choirs will sing several pieces, two adult soloists and an adult duo will sing, and various individual rehearsals as well as one group rehearsal dot the musical landscape this week in among everything else.

Today's the calm before the (musical) storm, so I'm trying to get all the details lined up so I'm at the right place at the right time with the right music--hopefully well-rehearsed!

Am I complaining or bragging? Maybe a touch of both, but more just delighted to be involved in such a wonderful span of music-making: accompanying an outstanding women's group, working with a wonderful pianist, providing continuo for a strong group of university singers, directing an enthusiastic church choir, and working with adults and children, the latter perhaps showing more love of music than expertise:

Talk about a week that's music to my ears!

Borrowed Music

Well, if you're going to borrow a musical idea, who better to do it from than yourself! I like to think that I'm in good company: Mozart, Bach, Handel--LOTS of Handel--and scores (pun intended) of other composers. Mark, who responded to my previous post, got me thinking along those lines--see, he suggested I post more pdfs on my website (address on sidebar); I thought of pdfs I had made recently and came upon a work based on a work based on a work--let's see if I can explain.

At Lafayette- Orinda Presbyterian Church I had the opportunity to write for a flautist almost every month for a year or so (usually because, although she had been hired, no one had planned what she would play). One month I wrote a set of variations on Balm in Gilead. You'll find a short description of the piece on my website, along with a link to the pdf of the full piece. The first excerpt I've posted here is near the end of the second variation. One of the things I like about this variation is its extremely simple bass line (just two notes, which keep repeating, until--but you'll have to visit my website for the rest of the story...) with a simple succession of chords in the right hand and a somewhat stream-of-consciousness meditation on the theme in the flute part. It sounds like this.

In the flute and piano variations, the variation that the first excerpt came from represented a period of rest; although it wasn't long, it had a timeless quality about it, in the sense that it could keep going forever (I think the computer plays it faster than I would--I know; I programmed the tempo; the performer me thinks that the composer me pushes the tempo too much here--talk about being of two minds!). Where was I?

The second excerpt, a transcription of the previous variation, but now for mezzo-soprano, cello and piano, came about when I was setting some wonderful poems by my Aunt Elizabeth. I needed a time of relaxation after a particularly intense text, and happened upon my flute variation. So Gilead came into existence: a wordless song, almost a lullaby, that offers a moment of quiet and healing after the strong emotions of the previous movement. Of the five-movement set of songs (Gilead is number 4), Gilead is the only one to have been performed to date.It sounds like this. The piano part is unchanged; the soprano does the flute part, and the cello either doubles the voice or adds a countermelody.

When my cousin Michael went to Norway for the year, he took another of my pieces, a vocal duet, with him and started teaching it to a choir he is conducting for the year. He wanted me to make some minor adaptations to fit the choir, so I went farther than he asked (not an unusal happenstance) and not only modified that piece, but sent him several other works, including a choral version of Gilead (my third excerpt). If you compare the three excerpts, you'll notice that each adds a little more complexity, although the piano part remains constant. Much of the choral version still has the two-voice feel of its predecessor version, although there are moments, like right at the end of the excerpt, when voices become more independent. There is still no text, so it is up to the director to find a neutral syllable that works with the choir.This last excerpt sounds like this.

What I found so satisfying is that the connections to previous work actually strengthened the compositional process. It gave me an anchor, something to build from or build toward. I confess that I've done this a couple of other times, with similarly successful results--of course, I'm measuring success to some extent personally. Ultimate success for me comes from my audience, and how much they enjoy the music...and how much my performers (I'm often one of them) enjoy their musical experience.

After all, it's not just music to my ears...

Andante Grazioso

While things have quieted a little from my last post, I'm really enjoying preparing for the upcoming WomenSing concert. There's nothing like being able to collaborate with an ensemble that's on top of its game, with an outstanding conductor and piano accompanist. What I'm most enjoying is that the music is challenging enough that I really need to practice every day. I know--I should practice every day anyway; I need a goal or deadline to motivate me--and I am real motivated right now!

Between preparing the organ part of my Christmas Toccata, written for the concert, and becoming more familiar with the various choral accompaniments, including Kirke Mechem's delightful Seven Joys of Christmas (four movements of which I'm transcribing from piano to organ), I have no trouble filling a substantial practice session each day. It's gratifying to see that I'm making some progress, as I retain at leasts some benefit from my previous day's workout.

A challenge that is common for organists is that I don't get much actual rehearsal time on the instruments I'll be playing in concert. So one tries to simulate the sound and the physical setup of the concert locations so as to make the best use of the concert hall rehearsal time. The easiest part is learning the notes; the hardest thing is becoming familiar with a strange console.

And in the midst of all this, focusing on my church position with various upcoming Christmas season activities, as well as--just about as regularly as I breathe--working on a new composition.

There's no shortage of music to my ears...

Allegro Molto

Things have been nicely busy, both musically and personally, over the last several weeks. I've written at least three pieces of music, performed in three concerts, am getting ready for another, and am about to get started on a new composition for my cousin Michael. Beyond that my church position has kept me involved, as I renew acquaintance with familiar organ works and try to regularly add new pieces to my repertoire, and as I work with two musical ensembles that present music in worship each week (and let's not forget preparations for Christmas, which is just around the corner!).

First things first: a musician's gotta have some fun, although not everyone would link "golf" and "fun" in the same sentence! I'm playing at Harding Park Golf Course in San Francisco in the morning. It's a fairly challenging municipal course in a picturesque area near the Pacific coast. Recent activities mentioned in the previous paragraph include:

• Organist in Faure Requiem performed by U.C. Berkeley University Chorus
  
• Performer in San Francisco AGO (American Guild of Organists) chapter concert with my And they were filled with the Holy Spirit and Mckee Variations
  
• Organ/piano accompanist of WomenSing in an interfaith concert in Walnut Creek CA
  
• New compositions include an organ setting of Jesus Loves Me and two works for organ/piano duo: variations on Noel Nouvelet and Christmas Toccata (the latter to be performed on an upcoming concert of WomenSing on December 4 and 7 (I'm providing organ accompaniment on several works as well)
  

None of that is really sufficient excuse for ignoring my blog, so I'll try to do better for the rest of the year. I want to look at the pieces I wrote, and offer some comments on writing for organ and piano, as well as the general matter of transcription (my Noel Nouvelet variations were originally written for flute and piano).
I'll have more commentary soon. Be assured that it's certainly been music to my ears...

tempo rubato all over again

I blinked and October disappeared! We took a week or so with my Dad in his condo in Hawaii (I did get some golf in among the shopping trips for new bedding and various small repairs). It was a good change of pace. But I didn't write any music, which is almost like saying I decided not to breathe for a while. But music has kept me quite busy, with two active groups at church: between rehearsals, Sunday mornings, putting together practice CDs and leadsheets, and planning for the rest of the year, life was--musically speaking--pleasantly full.

But it's interesting how the calendar can fill up even more when you're not looking...

I played a couple of weddings that I'd had on my calendar for a while; then there was that extra memorial service, a couple of extra meetings, and a couple of upcoming organist gigs with an outstanding women's chorus (WomenSing). And a portion of a concert Monday November 7 sponsored by the San Franciscfo AGO chapter. All of a sudden preparation and practice time start crowding out important things like vegging out, or playing a little golf, or a nice dinner with my spouse (I think we'll next see each other at the dinner table in five days or so).

Am I complaining or bragging? I'm not sure. It's nice to be busy, or rather to have busies that others value. I probably didn't need to say yes this afternoon when I was asked to be a last-minute fill-in for an ailing organist for a performance of Faure's Requiem on the U.C. Berkeley campus this weekend, but I like the piece, it's my alma mater, and it doesn't hurt to improve the bottom line (see how I feel about that in a week or so after this yellow dog Democrat provides cocktail music at a Republican Women's gathering!) (No, I won't play Can't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow--Bill Clinton's theme song, for those of you who don't remember or live on the other side of the pond--but it's tempting!)

All this as a rather lengthy excuse for why time slipped away from me again (thus the title of this post). And yet, in the middle of all that, I found a couple of hours this morning to write a violin and piano piece for Sunday morning--I'll know in another day if the violinist is intrigued enough/has sufficient practice time to work on it this week. And I may soon be working on a compositional project for my cousin Michael. More about these projects and one other soon--

because it's all music to my ears...

alla breve

Just a quick note (thus the title) as we try to finish packing before midnight for a short trip to Kauai: this last Sunday at church was quite satisfying, both because the service came together well and seemed to have meaning and import for many in the congregation and because I had three pieces performed (thus satisfying my composer's soul ).

[For those not up on their music notation, "breve" refers to a half note, a l'Americaine--the oval with a stem going up or down--in a piece of music fast enough that it's easier to count half notes than quarter notes--filled-in ovals with stems--but the whole point of the title is that I don't have any more time--but do read the rest of the note after clicking on the link below.]

The service was built around our contemporary, guitar-based Praise Team. I still wanted some organ presence, so I played a meditative piece that references How Great Thou Art (O Store Gud) for prelude, and wrote a variation of the closing song, Shout to the Lord, for postlude. At the offering, my wife Marianne sang my setting of the ubiquitous Footprints in the Sand poem of greeting card/wall poster/coffee mug/et cetera fame. I provided some background vocals and played piano (a quasi finger-picking style--as much as the piano can handle that particular guitar idiom).

We're down to the wire, and may soon start intruding on sleep time, as we do our usual last-minute rush to the finish line. We still have 9 hours until we leave for the airport: plenty of time to pack...and at least nap a couple of hours...and although the packing is not my favorite part of the trip, there is plenty else to look forward to that is...

music to my ears.

a short note

Yesterday was a very productive day. I completed two new pieces of music. One, an anthem version of the lds hymn Awake, Ye Saints of God, Awake!, I had started the previous evening, writing about half of the piece. I got up early the next morning, put in a couple of hours, and had a finished piece. I'm taking it with me today to see if the organ part works on an organ (it sounds fine through my computer's speakers, which isn't saying much).

The other piece, a tocatta-style chorale prelude on Shout to the Lord, came about as a result of my trying to find some organ music to fit in with Sunday's service, which features the guitar-supported Praise Team. I wanted to have something that harkened back to traditional for those who like the usually more even mixture of styles in our service, and yet I didn't want the organ to seem as though it had no connection to the rest of the service. I already had a prelude: a reflective setting of How Great Thou Art, which I wrote a while back. None of my existing music seemed to do for postlude. Rather than keeping digging until I unearthed something, I impulsively decided to write a piece based on the closing song.

I gave the church secretary my title, after playing around a bit on the organ and developing an opening idea. I'm trying the finished piece out today, so I'll report on it soon.

It was nice to have cousin Michael drop by, even if he wrote me a note directly rather than commenting. I expect to have a post from him soon about his musical and other adventures in Norway (far from his usual San Francisco haunts).

As usual, all this is music to my ears.

simple is not easy

In my post earlier today I spoke of a new piece of music I wrote this morning: simple, 4-measure-long repetitive bass line, a simple 1-measure pattern for the left hand, and a playful melody in the right hand. Did I mention the piece was written for organ? The feet do the bass line. It turns out that simple is not necessarily easy...

I had a practice session this afternoon for a wedding, so I brought my new piece along. I really needed to do this, since I am scheduled to play the piece on Sunday. Yeah, I know I'm doing it backwards: I first schedule me to play a piece that doesn't yet exist, then I write the piece and scramble a bit learning it so I can do justice to the music! I thought I had it made this time. I deliberately stayed simple. But it turns out that fitting simple things together--they occur concurrently--results in a sum that is more complicated than the individual parts would suggest.

I suppose that, if I just wanted to slop my way through, it would be no big deal. But I wanted the piece to be expressive, and on an organ that means that articulation--whether a note is played short and crisp or smooth and connected to its neighbors--is real important.

So it turned out that my simple piece (less than and hour and a half to write almost 4 minutes of solo organ music)...wasn't simple. I've known about that contradiction in other domains--a good children's book or other art for children can be quite challenging to create. Writing an interesting piece for a beginning musician is hard to do--you don't want to fall into cliche or mindless sound.

The piece sounds neat! (What else would I say?) It's better than the mp3 I made from the notation file. I'm looking forward to another practice session tomorrow, as I still have a couple of coordination problems (one hand plays smoothly while the other plays crisply as the bass continues its relentless step - step - step), but I think I'll be able to iron them out. I'll play the piece as part of my wedding prelude (generally 30 minutes of music before the ceremony itself starts) so that its official premiere will go smoothly; I would like to work out any first-performance jitters as well as offer what I hope will be perceived as something special--assuming that anyone even notices!

As usual, it's music to my ears...

Sunday's Coming

The dilemma of a church organist: Sunday's coming. There's always another Sunday, or a wedding, or memorial, or other special event to prepare for. And somewhere after Monday I realize I need another prelude (postlude/offertory). And there's not much time! Theoretically, of course, I practice weeks ahead. But organ playing is a rather practical sport, not long on theory.

I had this bright idea to ask a flautist in the congregation if she would like to play one of my settings of Jesus Loves Me. We're focusing on children this Sunday in conjunction with World Communion Sunday, and JLM is one of the hymns. She liked the idea, but the timing wasn't quite right in her life. In the meantime, I'd committed to JLM in the bulletin. So I got up this morning and wrote down what's really an improv on the tune.

I started with a walking bass. My example shows the first half of the pattern, which just keeps repeating. [Note to Dan and others who like to hear things: here's the link to the mp3 of the whole piece.] The left hand has a simple pattern based on the first four notes of the tune. It also keeps repeating. That didn't take long! Now all I need is a bit of melody.

I decided to ornament the melody a bit. Enough so the tune gets elaborated, but not so much that the tune gets lost in the lettuce. Or broccoli. Or salad dressing. Whatever. The tune starts quite simply, as my second excerpt shows.Except for the first two notes, this first piece of melody presents the tune pretty straightforwardly. In order to make things more interesting (at least for me as composer) I decided that each each chunk of melody would be responsible for four measures, even though in its original form it is only two measures long. And then I made the measures four beats long, rather than the two of the original. It meant I had to figure out how to fill more time, and yet make sure that the connection of the material I wrote to the original tune was clear.

There's an interesting musical problem inherent in the procedure I applied here: there's no real harmonic progression or direction. Or rather, the walking bass implies motion, as it heads down the scale, makes a slight turn, and begins again just as it reaches home. But while the bass suggests motion, the sustain note in the left hand and the short repeated rif suggest a kind of stasis. Even with all the motion of the bass, and a fairly active melody line, there's almost a timeless aspect to the piece.

The lack of harmony and constant rhythmic repetition of the bass and left hand places the responsibility for the shape of the piece firmly on the melodic line. I haven't had a chance to practice the piece yet, but I think that I'll have to focus on the melody to keep the piece moving--or is it enough that these elements are just there? Although my recording suggests only one tone color for the melody, I have in mind alternating between a flute and a reed sound.

I gotta tell you that it felt good to be doing this again: write a piece Friday morning that I'll play on Sunday (well, I got the left hand/bass ideas Thursday evening right before choir practice). I'd been a little down about the rather reduced organ I now play, compared to the instrument at my previous church. Clearly, size is less important than making use of what you've got...

Which is, of course, music to my ears.

North north, or finding oneself

I mentioned in my last post that my cousin Michael is in Norway. North Norway. As in there will be a lot of winter to shovel. I'm going to ask him if I can excerpt from a general letter he sent out recently: it sounds like a fascinating part of the world, and just a bit different from the San Francisco area. How did I get on this track? I actually wanted to comment on an ongoing project of sending him some of my pieces, since the group he is conducting, the Alstahaug Sangkor, liked Gospel 3:16 so well. And that led to an interesting challenge...

Where was my music? Not the hard copy: I have plenty of files, piles and even a stray box or two. I often have several different versions of a piece, sometimes including the original pencil manuscript (either pre-computer or at some stage in the process). I rarely throw any of it away. That would be like losing part of myself! So where was I, computationally speaking?

I've been using personal computers since our first Apple II plus (with the extra 16K card). Made some fun music on it. Switched to a Mac in 1985 with a decent music notation program and never looked back. Through generations of computers and notation programs I tried to bring my finished pieces along. I had to redo stuff when I switched from Composer to Finale. And then (sob) I succumbed to the importunings of a certain important person in my life and got a Windows machine.

I'd made the shift from floppies to CDs pretty well. A lot of stuff was archived on a whole bunch of floppies. Even with CDs I could still go back and retrieve something if I needed it. I had a neat little program that catalogued the contents of said floppies, so it was easy to find a file. When I moved to Windows I put as much as I could find on a CD while I still had my Mac (now a Quadra 660 AV--a neat unit) up and working. And then I had to redo the entire CD, as I found my rather loose way of labeling things didn't work in Windows, which still wanted dot 3 extensions. My own extension code wasn't recognized (duh!). How was I supposed to know that Finale files were ".mus," not ".fin?"

So I wanted to send some more music to Michael. My recent work was simple: use either my active file or the careful backup I had made to create a PDF file, upload it to my website, and give Michael the url. Fast and painless. Then I went looking for a couple of older pieces. The flotsam and jetsam of generatons of computers, media, and program upgrades was overwhelming. A unique landscape, rivaling the fjords of Norway with its convolutions. I couldn't find my Mac CD (the one I'd had to redo)! When I did, it wasn't the right one. Where's my music? My life blood? My...

When I calmed down, I noticed that I could find a workaround to open at least some of the stuff, but I may have to go back to the Mac once more (I loved my Macs, but never got beyond "like" with Windows). It'll be fun, if slow. One last time, file by file, floppy by floppy, grumbling has that spacious 20 meg harddrive fills up and overflows.

Or I could just forget it and copy the music over again. While I don't particularly want to face that music, it'll be great fun renewing acquaintance with some of the nooks and crannies of my creativity (don't go after dark!). I think, before I embark on this project, I'll go write some more

music to my ears.

Starting Over--Ready or Not

Unlike my last post, where I wasn't sure where the end of August had gone, I know quite well where the first part of September has gone. Like schools, the church year actually begins as September is reached. Liturgically the church year may start with Advent, but meetings, choir rehearsals--did I mention meetings?--all pile up in a joyous heap. Add to the mix the sobering results of Katrina and some rather poor communication, if not mismanagement, and life has been filled to the brim (and then there are all those other places in the world as well). I've had some minor creative adventures anyway...

• The Chancel Choir at John Knox Pres in Dublin CA sang the introit I'd written for them on Be Thou My Vision, which I wrote about in my last post. They did very well. There were some nice expressive moments. We had 26 in the choir which, considering an average Sunday congregation of 180, is very impressive (10 percent of the average attendance is a good rule of thumb--JKPC is definitely ahead of the curve).


• My Called By God, in a TTBB transcription from the original SATB setting, was performed at Lafayette-Orinda Pres. Church. I wrote the piece (a setting of LOPC's mission statement--not poetic, but with some universal elements that set well to music and resonated within me--both then and now) two years ago in anticipation of beginning my position as organist at LOPC. It's been sung twice before, which does my composer's heart good: second and third performances are not always easy to come by! It was nice to know I could be topical even in my absence.


• My cousin Michael Moreskine is in Norway for the year, playing organ and directing a choir or two toward the north of the country. He and I have shared compositions, and he's played several of my pieces, including a variation set on Bunessan (known by many as Morning Has Broken) for organ and cello (a wonderful combination I wouldn't have thought of if Michael hadn't shown me what the two instruments could do together). He also liked a duet I wrote called Gospel 3:16, a setting of a paraphrase of John 3:16. He had some modifications in mind, most of which I ignored (composer's prerogative, I guess--although his ideas were good). He tried the piece out with a Norwegian group he's conducting, and they liked it. So I spent some time this weekend creating an SATB version. I hope to comment on the piece and on the process of transcription in another post. As a tease: you have to be willing to give up cherished things in order to create a piece that is as idiomatic for the new ensemble as the old setting was for its own ensemble. (Composers HATE to throw notes away once they've been put into a pleasing order--but pruning is just as important in musical composition as it is in gardening).

That's music to my ears...

summer's end, or the "vision thing"

Well, it's September 1 and I don't know where the last couple of weeks of August went. I've written a couple of small compositions, but that didn't take long. I've started settling in to my new church position, leading up to my first choir rehearsal last night. I'd already met several times with the contemporary group; both offer some wonderful possibilities. So, as a composer, what else was I supposed to do but write a piece of music for each ensemble?

The Praise Team won't probably start on the piece I wrote for them for another few weeks, so I'll hold off on saying much more about that piece, other than that it has been a while since I've written for guitars and voices. It was fun, and initially easier than my more traditionally-based writing. But I keep tweaking things, working for a smoother chord progression, developing an arrangement of what is otherwise a pretty standard chorus/verse alternation. As is typical of this sort of writing, the piece won't really assume any final form until after the group has made it its own.

For the Chancel Choir I wrote a short piece setting Be Thou My Vision, usually sung to the hymn tune Slane. I decided to do this because I came across a neat organ piece on the tune by Eric Thiman (1900-1975), an English composer. Even though I'm playing a small, Baroque-oriented organ, this piece retains a nice combination of intimacy and grandeur that I just plain like. One of our musical groups usually does an introit or musical call to worship directly after the prelude, so the idea of following Thiman's piece with some sort of choral setting captured my imagination.

Finding the right way to start the piece was a problem, however. Thiman's piece provided a perfect intro (if you can have a 4-minute intro to a 1-minute piece!), ending simply and quietly. I envisioned the choir starting from almost nothing and then growing in texture and loudness. But the hymn tune harmonization is so well done that finding my own paraphrase wasn't working. I finally got the idea of moving the first couple of notes of the second measure up, rather than following the contour of the tune. An hour later, the piece was done.

It was great hearing the piece at rehearsal. The choir picked it up easily, even with a very spare accompaniment underneath. After going through the tune for a verse, the piece moves into a canonic treatment of my modification of the opening line. The organ provides a low pedal tone under the canon, with a descending 4-measure chord progression (that just means that there is a sense of motion, but also a sense of calm as the chord pattern repeats and the pedal tone holds things together in the background).

It may have been a little brave--or foolhardy--to write and program a new piece for a group I'd never rehearsed, but a look at the choir library gave me an idea of their ability. I'm quite pleased, and hope to be able to share this piece with some of my colleagues. I'm all charged up with summer's end, and looking forward to a productive, musical fall.

accelerando

While I was traveling to the wedding (see previous post) I read much of Terry Gross' All I Did Was Ask, a fascinating compendium of interviews she's done over the years on NPR's Fresh Air. (For more info on the book, there's a Weekend Edition interview here.) I was particularly taken with a comment jazz bassist Charlie Haden made in his interview.

He said that a bass player should

lift everything up and make it deeper and more full-sounding…in order to inspire the other musicians to play better than they’ve ever played before.

I think the whole interview is worth reading (ok--the whole book). I resonated with his comment because it encapsulates what I try to do as a church musician and accompanist. Collaboration is fun. I'd much rather do that than do a lot of solo performance, even though it takes more preparation to produce an effective ensemble. Even as a composer--although I'm obviously responding to some sort of creative urge over which I have little control (well, I have some control over what I write, but not that I write)--I follow the principle of inspiring other musicians and the audience to become better. Occasionally I succeed.

As I've gotten older I've given more thought about what I do. I try not to do so while I'm playing, since that distracts me from actually making music. While a bass physically can make things "deeper and more full-sounding" simply because it plays in a lower register than most instruments, I think Charlie Haden is referring to more than the mere notes. There's an element of musicianship that permeates the music; without the musicianship (which operates in multiple dimensions: time, timbre, vertical, horizontal, sound, silence) there's just noise.

His interview was thought-provoking, as were many others in the book. It makes me think of a book by, if I'm remembering correctly, Johnny Cash's daughter. 'Scuse me. It's around here somewhere...

fermata

Things have been on hold for a while (thus the title) as we hosted my father-in-law and then flew from California to Pennsylvania for our son's wedding (we felt like we were herding cats with both Dads in tow--I can only imagine what they thought of us!). Dementia adds an element of uncertainty and...excitement...to the voyage. But we survived just fine and Jeremy and Amanda's wedding was wonderful.

It was a delight to get to know the new other side of the family, and to see the obvious delight that the happy couple took in each other. While the music selected for procession and recession weren't anything unusual, I quite enjoyed Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring for the bride: it added a serene and stately touch just right for the late afternoon ceremony. Joyful, Joyful made an appropriately up and, ok, joyful way to send the wedding party out.

I primarily served as the bemused father of the groom:

• write checks for the rehearsal dinner


• play golf with the guys the morning of the ceremony--score was totally unremarkable [let's just say I know how the guys at the PGA Championship felt as they slogged their way through humidity you could almost cut with a knife!]


• follow the mother of the groom into the church during the seating of the families


• have a good if somewhat unobtrusive time at the reception--I did work the room a bit, meeting a bunch of nice people)

I did have the opportunity to play Reflected Joy 2 during the unity candle ceremony. It was hard to focus on the music because I really wanted to see what Amanda and Jeremy were doing. A number of people had positive comments; I enjoyed being able to offer the couple a somewhat different gift from the others they will get.

Having written the two movements, I hope to add three more to make a suite: a new opening piece, one between the two I've already written, and a closing piece. I've set myself an interesting task, since I mention both Jesu, Joy and Joyful, Joyful. Do I focus more on the latter, since the former got good play in these two pieces? Can I find some common elements? Will there be any sense of development, or should each piece be a potential stand-alone character piece? Stay tuned...

tempo rubato

It's been a quiet week for me, speaking musically. A couple of good, but short, practice sessions. No composition projects going on. But it's not been a dull week. There's been some rallentando here, accelerando there.

I've been in planning mode with my new church position, both as we look toward the upcoming Sunday and as we look toward an exciting Fall. I've been helping out Marianne at The Yarn Boutique as well, with the well-deserved vacation of one of her employees. So I haven't heard any music that particularly excites me this week, nor written any, for that matter!

Tempo rubato: stolen time. It's almost like a vacation, but it feels a little stolen, since I would rather be writing and playing, rather than orchestrating skeins of yarn (a not unpleasurable task, but not my cup of hot chocolate).

There was an article in a local newspaper yesterday about local organist Keenen Boswell, who, although still in his teens, is already a seasoned performer. I've heard him, and enjoyed the experience. It's good to see local media spending time on an outstanding local performer--and in the classical genre, even!

In my browsing this morning I came accross in the wings, the blog of Heather Heise, a SF Bay Area pianist. Rather enjoyable. I like her sensibility and sense of humor. It'll be fun to explore her posts.

Tempo rubato: not wasted time--just borrowed. I might as well enjoy it because it will be paid back, and not too far away in the future. I play a wedding tomorrow, church on Sunday (first service at my new church), next week family as we (with my Dad and father-in-law) head to son Jeremy's wedding with Amanda. Upon return, a quick plunge into the pool of Fall counterpoint which refuses to wait for Labor Day and September.

In retrospect, I will miss tempo rubato.

All Things redux

I'd mentioned earlier about my version of All Things Bright and Beautiful (actually the tune Royal Oak) which I had intended to play in worship. At that time I was filling in at First Congregational Church in Berkeley CA. I ended up doing my organ variations rather than the piano piece I spent time on. I played my organ variations (totally separate from the piano piece) again this morning, as part of my swan song at Lafayette-Orinda Presbyterian Church--partly because the registration I used calls for the zimbelstern (high-pitched bells) near the end--it gives the music a bit of a music-box effect.
The first variation features a canon at the octave in the manuals over a simple 2-voice pedal part. I don't yet have any soundclips to accompany my score excerpts, but I'll add them later (it's hard to get a good recording while everyone is talking while I'm playing).

The second variation is more dramatic, with the first part of the hymn tune disguised but strongly influencing the melodic material.

The verse portion of the tune is set in contrasting fashion: repeated bass notes, sustained left-hand chords, right hand playing with fragments of the tune.

After a return to the beginning of the variation, the piece moves with a very slight break into variation 3.

It has its own intro, which returns between phrases of the tune (ok--it's a ritornello).

I had an 8' Principal in mind for the left-hand melody of variation 3. It works beautifully in Vaughan Williams' Rhosymedre. I wanted the same effect here.The right-hand material reappears in the following variation, as the hands switch material.

Variation 4 is the loudest, following directly on the heels of the previous variation, almost as thought it's the second half of a variation rather than a variation in its own right. Unlike previous variations, this one doesn't return to the refrain, but heads right into variation 5 (this is part of my feeling it as a second half rather than a separate variation).

This final variation is softer: sustain notes or slow-moving lines in the left hand; repeated 16ths in the right hand; melody in the pedal on a 4' stop. I also added the zimbelstern, since I had one on the instrument for which I wrote the piece (I may work out a handbell choir part at my new position). The piece returns to a quiet, reflective mood and prepares the congregation (those who are listening!) for worship.

Goodbye and Hello/Reflected Joy mp3s

I'm enjoying the process of getting ready for my new church position. I've also appreciated hearing from members of my soon to be former church (well, I'll still be a member, so it's not that former!). There's sadness in leaving--things left undone, potentials not reached--even as there are joys--events that went well, friendships made and strengthened, special times shared. And there's the anticipation of things to come, knowing that I am better for the last two years, even as I hope to share my gifts more fully.

Following up on a comment DanW made to my last post, I'm going to repost the score excerpts of Reflected Joy 2, accompanied by links to mp3s. Hey! Given that my blog is pretty new, and the only people who have commented are my daughter and son-in-law (thanks y'all; check's in the mail...), I'm darn well going to listen to 50% of my audience! (OK--others have been by, but they've not left much of a footprint...)

First excerpt and accompanying mp3. I'm not pleased with the sound quality of the mp3s: a wav file was made directly from my Finale score (so the performance is not very musical, IMHO), loaded into Audacity (a very nice sound editor for the money...i.e. free). After a little processing (normalizing, adding a little room presence) clips corresponding to the score excerpts were saved. I think the files are too big. It'll be interesting to see how they download and play. Comments, anyone?

Here's the second excerpt: and its mp3. For something a little different, listen to the whole piece in mp3 (a little over 2 minutes).

Perplexed Joy

Well, I'm not perplexed about my new position. It's now official: I'm the Music Director/Organist at John Knox Presbyterian Church in Dublin CA. The congregation is wonderful and there is great potential for growth. The "perplexed" in the title refers to my latest composition project. It's not over yet! I thought I had the piece for Amanda and Jeremy's wedding, but then I wrote another one! I'll have to pick one for the ceremony, but I'm well on the way to creating the suite of pieces I thought about in a previous post (two pieces finished; a good start on a third; can another one be far away?).

Like the previous Reflected Joy, this piece is based on themes from my son Jeremy's upcoming wedding to Amanda Riegle. The flavor of Jesu, Joy is quite evident, as you can see in the first excerpt. The Beethoven Ode to Joy presence is quite subtle at the beginning, with the first hints coming in the left hand 7 measures in. There's a much stronger statement towards the end of the piece in the treble clef--I know, I know: the right hand has a little juggling to do, but it IS playable! Although nobody would call this a neo-Baroque piece, it flows more gracefully than its companion work largely because of the 12/8 time signature and the three-measure open-ended phrases.

While I like the impressionistic flavor of one of the motives of the previous piece, as well as the dramatic shifts as now you see, now you don't see the Beethoven, the flowing character of this piece may be more appropriate for the ceremony. About halfway through there's an interesting juxtaposition of keys, as the piece moves from G major to E-flat to C to D in successive phrases. Originally I'd had the piece return to its starting key, but the V-I progression was out of character since none of the other key changes were modulations as much as voice leading.

What a delightful dilemma: do I play the first piece I finished, or this one, or write another? All while packing up boxes of music and books to move to my new position, finishing my Mom's estate, turning our "camping out" chez Dad into a more livable arrangement--and more. Life is wonderfully full.

Turning part 2: Reflected Joy

OK. I'm officially excited. They've offered me the position; we're ironing out some details. And I may have Jeremy and Amanda's piece done, at least to the point where I play it on piano, seeing if I can break it and then fix it (kind of a Quality Control approach). If you read on you'll notice that the excerpt I showed in my last post isn't part of this piece...because I started over. I often do that--a couple of false starts plus a job offer gets my creative energy flowing...[I won't drop my previous idea: it will have hints of Jesu, Joy--see below--and will probably lead to my writing a third or fourth piece so I can postnuptually offer Suite Joy to A & J]

So I noticed that the happy couple had picked Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring and Ode to Joy for walking in and walking out music. Even though I was writing an interlude sort of piece I wanted it to have some sort of liturgical connection by relating my piece to one of their choices. I developed three ideas--short motifs--and knitted them into the musical fabric (slightly too subtle reference to Marianne's knitting her "Mother of the Groom" dress). The first motive is based on the first three notes of Ode to Joy. There may be a reference to the running eighth notes of Jesu in the accompanying material, but that was unintentional. This motive is immediately varied (up an octave, expanded, softer), setting the context for similar developments of the other motivic material that followed. A second, contrasting idea functions more as punctuation.

I wanted the piece to be improvisatory in feeling; people like music with a Romantic or Impressionist flavor; a nice arpeggio seemed to fill the bill. Did I mention the title? Reflected Joy seemed appropriate on a number of levels: the word "joy" in the music they chose; my piece being a reflection or meditation on their choices; the joy that we feel at their joy in each other.

As I returned to the hymn tune I decided I didn't want to just go back to my first idea; the thought of Impressionism made me think more chromatically and led to the development of the third motive, which gets a (to me) surprisingly large amount of play in the piece. It's developed the most, it leads to a couple climax points, and allows for some quite satisfactory expressive playing.

Did I mention how much fun I was having writing this piece? It occured to me at some point--about a minute into this two-minute piece--that I hadn't actually stated more than three or four notes of the theme (Ode to Joy) so I decided to refer more clearly to it, even though I was putting it in musical parentheses. It's softer than surrounding material, presented over a relatively static pattern, so that it's actually a break in the action, and not the main idea.

At some point all this joy has to end. Translation: I was getting tired and was ready to call it a night and get some sleep. In addition, the piece had reached the 2-minute mark; it was in danger of becoming a musical elephant in the liturgical china shop, so it was time to end, which I did with a final reference to the end of Ode to Joy as it's usually done in hymnals...with a slight contemporary flavor. (Note that the lower stave is initially in treble clef). I've made a MIDI file of the score which will give you an idea of the piece until I get around to making a recording.

Turning the Corner

I visited my daughter Delara's blog today (link on sidebar). It's a great way to find out what's going on in her life. It's interesting that her latest post deals with life changes, particularly since I'm at one of those turning-points (albeit not a major one). In my last post I spoke about needing to get started on a piece of music for my son Jeremy's upcoming wedding. I've written about 30 seconds--the stuff's ok, but probably won't survive, at least without major changes.

I was wondering why I hadn't written more, and I realized that I'm still dealing with leaving a church position (I'm a church musician, if you're tuning in in mid-stream) earlier than I had planned with all of the unsettled feelings and unfinished business that goes with such an interruption. But as challenging as that all is, it represents a turning-point. Something new and exciting is coming.

I've interviewed for a new position. Even though the church is much smaller, the position fits me much better; it will be a good fit for everyone. I have a second interview shortly. It looks as though they're interested in me and I in them--I'm getting excited. So even though there's unfinished business and a sense of loss, at the same time there's renewed energy and a sense of growth.

So it's no wonder I haven't done much with Jeremy and Amanda's music. There hasn't been a lot of extra energy left for creativity. But the nice thing about turning corners is that your energy and creativity turn the corner too. And it's none too soon: the wedding is less than a month away! Let's see: what can I do with

Drawing a Blank, part 2

In an earlier post (Drawing a Blank) I mentioned the terror of the blank page, as one begins a new project. Well, I'm about to start, and so I'm working my way through and around that blank page (well, blank screen really, since I use the music notation program Finale). My son Jeremy and his fiancee Amanda are getting married in mid-August; they've asked me to write something to be played during the ceremony.

Jeremy and I talked about that tonight. It'll probably be no more than two minutes; played on piano. I asked about other service music: Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring for the bride; Beethoven's Ode to Joy for the happy couple as they leave. Anyone for a little joy?

So I've started my precompositional planning. I need to decide on a style, develop a motivic idea or two (my wife Marianne suggested tossing in reference to a tune Jeremy sang when he was a kid--maybe...), and get some notes written. Not tonight, 'cause I'd like to get some sleep sometime and the last thing I need is to have the piece running through my brain. But it'll be working in the background anyway. Joy. Piano. Two minutes: barely enough time to get started; an eternity to complete. I'll let you know how it works out...

Ready to Fly

I was asked to play piano at a memorial service this morning. While there is often some sadness at such a service, there is also joy in celebrating life--especially the life of the one who died. There was much joy this morning. I usually play piano or organ before the service, lead hymns, maybe accompany a soloist, and play a postlude. Not today. Wonderful harp music before (turns out I knew the harpist decades ago when we were...much younger). And an outstanding duet by two members of Calaveras.

I guess I don't get out often enough. Greg and Vickie from Calaveras are consumate artists, with strong singing and instrumental work. They sang "Ready to Fly" from their latest CD (visit CDBaby and search for "Calaveras"). The song spoke of one not getting ready to die but rather getting ready to fly. A wonderful image that was especially appropriate this morning.

The song has a folk/celtic sound with strong lyrics and strong music. I don't buy a lot of CDs--particularly by people I hear at memorial services--but I just bought two of theirs. It was nice to be jolted out of my comfortable musical rut. I'll probably have more to say after I've heard their CDs.

All Things Bright and Beautiful...ptII

...All creatures great and small. So begins a hymn, sung to the tune Royal Oak, which I first set for piano in 2001 and, more recently, for organ. After getting up real early (see ATBaB pt I), checking out some Point-of-Sale software we're thinking of installing in Marianne's yarn store, I headed off to the church where I'll be guest organist for a couple of weeks.

In addition to playing a voluntary by William Walond (a contemporary of G. F. Handel in London), I decided to play one of my organ variations on All Things... but found it difficult to pull one variation out of what is a pretty robust set of variations. I checked out my piano variation and really liked it (well, duh! I did write it.). To make it more challenging (for probably both performer and listener--but see my closing comment) I wrote it in 3/4, while the original (see the excerpt above) is in 4/4. Here's how the first statement of the melody looks in 3/4:

Notice that the left hand gives a pretty pronounced downbeat, while the right hand floats above it all. When I play, I try to allow each hand to be metrically independent of the other. It's a little unsettling, but also a little surreal. Perhaps a reminder of how difficult it is to obtain beauty...

You may see hints of the melody in the tenor portion of the left hand, here doubling (the first two measures) and then following (the descending scale in the left hand in measure 4 imitating the descending scale in the right in measures 2 and 3). When the melody repeats, it comes in on beat 1, increasing the subtle canon...or so I hope!

The b or verse section handles the tension between 4 and 3 differently. In the original, the melody does this:This melody is a miniature masterpiece. As the verse continues, the melody rises to meet the beginning refrain. It's a neat way to make the refrain in this simple two-part form seam both fresh and inevitable.
I didn't want to do the same 3-against-4 procedure of the first part of my setting, so I fit the melody into its tighter quarters by eliminating repeated notes and shortening long notes:I stressed the lowness of the melody by moving it into the bass clef, and almost turned it into a sequential passage. Apart from just plain liking the tune, I have found that giving myself a musical challenge, like fitting 4 beats into 3, is compositionally stimulating--particularly since I want the result to be comfortable to the listener's ear. For all of my academic focus (rather ingrained after 25 years as a university music professor), this is no music for music's sake. I want to freshen people's ears while they hear something they know, even if they don't recognize it right away.

All Things Bright and Beautiful...pt I

...although, in light of this morning's explosions in London, it's sometimes a little harder to see the bright and beautiful as clearly. Still, daughter Delara had her morning commute only lengthened and not permanently put on hold. The day started early in California with a before-5:00 a.m. call saying she was ok. Both parents were relieved, even as we know other parents and friends and lovers and children won't be, feeling a loss that will hurt for a long time to come.

...silence...

What tangled webs we weave...

I didn't mean to take so long between posts, but between the start of a search for a new church music position and some substantial work on my website, my creative energy was tied up in knots. It's been fun to work on the website--certainly more fun than working on my job search! I started off with some pages I had put together on a short early April vacation with a combination of hand coding and Netscape Composer. As I came back to the project last week, I used Arachnophilia for a bit. It supports handcoding, but is a bit cryptic to figure out. I decided to load a copy of Dreamweaver I've not been using lately, and I'm in love.

I set things up so that the website mirrors my web directory on my computer. The uploading is automatic, which I find to be quite slick. As long as I don't goof and save over something I didn't intend to lose, it'll be great. (The answer, of course, is to back everything up.) Dreamweaver gives me a combination of "what you see" and handcoding that I find quite helpful. It's actually akin to my notation software (I use Finale, but Sibelius and others work much the same way). In the case of the notation software, I can look at the notes, or listen to MIDI playback, jsut as with DW I can look at the file, or see the behind-the-scenes code.

I'm intending to use my website as an every-growing catalog. While it's relatively static, I'm hoping to apply the sort of approach I took with my earlier post here about Ellacombe, where I provide program notes and a little background info along with excerpts from the music. I hope I haven't set me too much of a task. To see what I'm trying, check out my pages on a variation set for flute and piano (see discussion and excerpts). Since I'm hoping to provide enough information so that some performers might decide my stuff is worth working on, I'm trying to give them enough information to make an informed decision.

I attended a very nice organ recital at St. Mary's Cathedral in San Francisco on Sunday (July 3, 2005). Ansgar Wallenhorst, a German organist, held forth at the might Ruffatti. I'll have a couple of comments on this delightful event soon.

Gebrauchsmuziek

Paul Hindemith (1895-1963) talked about the concept of Gebrauchsmuziek--essentially functional, or occasional music. He wrote for a broad range of instrumental and vocal combinations, writing music that he expected to be used, rather than sit on a shelf. A look at his list of compositions will quickly show you that he was both prolific and far-ranging in his interests.

My compositional career, while probably less prolific, is certainly focused on producing practical works for specific situations. I've been working on some web pages where I hope to show a catalog of my works while offering some commentary and some downloadable works. I've produced eleven pieces since the start of 2005. One is choral (written for a competition); the others all have an organ or piano part for me to play. Since I'm an organist with reduced opportunity to conduct choral groups than in the past, I write most for the resource most accessible to me. Eight of the ten instrumental works are based on hymn tunes; there's not much of a surprise there, since that allows me to either strengthen congregational singing or support the theme of the service.

6/18/2005: Prelude on Ellacombe (organ)
6/4/2005: All Things Bright and Beautiful (organ)
5/28/2005: New variations on St. Denio (1981) (organ)
5/13/2005: A Song of Promise (SATB chorus and orchestra)
3/20/2005: Fanfares for an Easter Day(3 trumpets, 2 trombones, optional timpani, organ)
3/9/2005: Variations on a French Carol (arr for organ)
3/4/2005: Variations on a French Carol (flute and piano)
2/28/2005: Reflections on Brother James’s Air (flute and organ)
2/7/2005: Beginnings (organ)
1/21/2005: Passacaglia on Spirit (organ)
1/15/2005: McKee Variations (organ)

I'm getting pretty close to opening up some pages on my web site with excerpts and comments on each piece. Watch for links in my Recent Work section to the left. On the other hand, it's been 10 days since I've done any composing of a musical nature. I may just get sidetracked for a few days...

Ellacombe part 2

Well, I played my Prelude on Ellacombe (for organ) this morning. I thought it went well. It was particularly gratifying that I made different (relatively small) mistakes each time (we have two morning church services). As a performer I find that I often have words with my composer self. What was I thinking about, writing two lines in the pedal? Particularly when skips of a 4th or 5th are constantly required?

Between the intricate pedal work of the opening and closing sections and the articulation of the manual voices (lots of staccato--contrary to the principle of legato playing that organists first learn) I had a nervous week or so as I became familiar with the piece. It only took about 6 hours of actual rehearsal; I knew yesterday that I was ready when I didn't use the other two hours I had planned (freeing me to work on other stuff).

I didn't have time to check if an adequate recording was made, since I left just as the final notes of the postlude were dying away to head to the Giants/A's game in Oakland. I'd expected something like a Concerto Grosso, with lots of give and take, and a certain amount of antiphonal play. It was more of a Tuba concerto, with the Giants' collective head stuck in the bell of the Tuba--they didn't even make an effective mute as the A's took the day 16-zip.

While my morning performance wasn't a shutout, I felt almost as good about my piece as the A's did about the game. If I can't post a recording from the service, I'll make one soon and provide a link under Recent Work on the sidebar.

One small step for Bach...

I've been volunteering this week at the San Francisco AGO (American Guild of Organists) chapter's POE (Pipe Organ Encounter for teens). We've had the privilege of hosting 32 students from around the nation--some already capable organists, others trying the instrument out for the first time. It's been a delight to get to know these folk, and to hear and see their enthusiasm for a broad range of music, from classical to various contemporary idioms.

Our guest artist for the week was Felix Hell. The fact that he's 19, with an impressive 11-year performing resume, a B.A. from Curtis--not to mention a wonderful role model for our students--paled beside his outstanding performance at last night's concert. I'm not a fan of big, bombastic organ works that don't seem to know when to stop, but he made the organ dance, giving big works the vitality of intimate chamber music. His performance of Liszt's Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H was stunning; certainly the best I've ever heard. Although Liszt would never be on my top ten...list, this performance would be.

The composition I really enjoyed was actually by Bach (J.S., that is). His Prelude and Fugue in D Major (BWV 532) was also exceptionally well played by Mr. Hell, with a crisp articulation that made the music sparkle. The work begins with a simple reiteration of 16th-notes: d-e-f#-e.
A colleague remarked that Bach was just showing off. And he did (both J.S. and Felix) with fine style. The opening riff is answered by alternating chords. The work continues as Bach spins out a simple moving down and up by step. With little more than basic step-wise movement he crafts a wonderful musical edifice. If ever justification was needed for learning scales, this is it (OK--there's another Bach work built on an ascending D Major scale--in the pedal--but allow me a little licence!).

It's fair to say that much of my own composing has focused on using small motivic ideas to build larger structures, but Bach does so well with what looks at first to be pretty unprepossessing material. I know--you might be thinking that it's not just the material, but the procedures that are applied to the material. And so it is. Music is as much the spaces between the notes, the material the composer leaves out, as it is the stuff we hear (John Cage may have gone a bit far with his 4' 33" of space between the notes, but he was right on about music being much more than just notes on a page).

I don't know how I'm going to get the Bach out of my head. I'm off to practice Ellacombe (see my previous post), which I'm playing tomorrow. Maybe that'll help. On the other hand, maybe it's time to get out my score of the Bach and renew my acquaintance with the piece up close and personal... Mr. Hell has set the bar rather high; thanks for a lesson that was both musical and inspiring.

Prelude on Ellacombe

This is the start of my latest piece, a prelude on the hymn tune Ellacombe. I've written several pieces following the rough form of Ralph Vaughan Williams' setting of Rhosymedre. While I'll spend some time on that in a subsequent post, suffice it to say he presents some nice introductory material, then states the tune in the left hand against this material, repeats the tune in the right hand with a fuller accompaniment, follows with a tag from the first setting, and ends with a restatement of his introductory material.

I thought I might use the same form with a different tune. Easier said than done! I started with the left hand and pedal material (based on the opening two notes of the tune in the right hand). The tune wasn't supposed to come in for a page or so. After I wrote the intro stuff, I realized my intro didn't flow like RVW's and, frankly, wasn't as interesting. By this time, I was at what I hoped would be the closing statement and decided to play with the tune a little:

Notice that it's similar but the tune is not treated as simply. After I wrote this, I realized that my beginning was too bare (although a lot easier to play, since the pedal only played the bottom notes, with the left hand doing the upper part of the pedal, and the right hand doing the chords. But no! The music kept demanding changes, so the simple tune was played against the chords, and the poor feet are kept busy.) I didn't achieve RVW's simple elegance, but there's a satisfying buildup and sense of conclusion with my piece. I'll put up an audio clip as soon as I play the piece in public.

Drawing a Blank

The hardest part of writing a piece of music, for me at least, is getting started. I'm looking at a blank piece of manuscript paper--well, ok, for the past two decades it's more often been a screen with staff lines devoid of notes.

The problem: too many choices. Any note in any key at any tempo with any dynamic level for any instrument or voice will do.

The solution: find some way to limit the choices. Decide who you're writing for (audience or performers or both). Make some preliminary choices about the shape of the piece. Sometimes I only need to make a few decisions and the music starts. Other times, more planning is needed. Lately I've written a lot for church services, drawing melodic ideas from hymn tunes (often drawing energy from working against the tight form of the hymn).

As I start this web site I'm in somewhat the same predicament. I'd like to just do it, but my formal composition training keeps pushing me in the direction of developing a structure, a framework--limiting my choices. So here are some of the things I hope to accomplish:

• Share some of the music I've written
• Talk about compositions that have influenced my musical development
• Share my passion for music and some of the insights I've gained as a musician
• Provide a forum for discussing composition

The page isn't blank any more. Let's see what happens next...