The Hop Is Done

I stopped “Don't Stop Till You Get Enough,” because I’d had enough.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

It all began innocently enough on Tuesday.
— The late, great Phil Austin of the Firesign Theatre as Nick Danger, Third Eye.

I confirmed for myself this morning that Music for the Un-Hip Hop, Op. 178 for two flutes, composed for Wei Zhao & Orlando Cela, and running about six minutes, is complete.

When I finished my work yesterday, I closed the Sibelius file of the Op. 178 and kind of reflexively opened the file for the Op. 169 № 12, when this poor lisping stammering tongue lies silent in the grave, but I felt that I’d done work enough for the day.

This morning I had a very nice catch-up phone call with a colleague.

I’m also thinking about the Symphony № 3 for Strings, Op. 175, and the fact that the typography of the score needs to be punched up. I’m having two conductor friends (one of them a composer, as well) cast their expert eyes over the score, and we'll take it from there. Pursuant to a virtual acquaintance asking whether I mostly write on the shorter side ... Having now completed the ballet White Nights and three symphonies which I’ve written on spec, my feeling is that I’m not going to invest the effort in another large-scale piece until the Universe takes up one of the big pieces already complete. It’s also probably true that anything concrete on that head, how small soever, may really light a fire under me. The fact of neither of the first two symphonies having gotten anywhere (not a huge surprise—I have a friend who IIRC has written at least ten symphonies, only one of which has been performed—so I know not to expect immediate success) is why I decided to make the third a piece for bowed strings only (not even harp) so that it should be easy to shop around. Hence, too, why I would like to get the score in condition to show to conductors. Now and again, I feel an itch and think that once the Op. 169 is in the can, I'll write a tone-poem for chamber orchestra. Maybe just seven minutes. Not feeling that I have a lot of steam today, I may leave off work with having (optimistically?) created a Sibelius file for the tone-poem, which I shall dedicate to my late mum, and titled For You, Fuchsia. The future will tell whether this was just bravado, or if I may be returning to form.