Present Thoughtage

The We-Wouldn’t-Dream-of-Making-Trouble Dead
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

I was feeling a little disgruntled with the world at the time and had put together about six different plots, each of which ended with the destruction of the world in a different way, and for a different reason. It was to be called “The Ends of the Earth.” While I was filling in the details of the first plot—in which the earth was demolished to make way for a new hyperspace express route—I realized that I needed to have someone from another planet around to tell the reader what was going on, to give the story the context it needed. So I had to work out who he was and what he was doing on the Earth... ...the BBC’s attitude toward the show [the radio production of THE HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY] while it was in production was very similar to that which Macbeth had toward murdering people—initial doubts, followed by cautious enthusiasm and then greater and greater alarm at the sheer scale of the undertaking and still no end in sight. Reports that Geoffrey and I and the sound engineers were buried in a subterranean studio for weeks on end, taking as long to produce a single sound effect as other people took to produce an entire series (and stealing everybody else’s studio time in which to do so) were all vigorously denied but absolutely true. The budget of the series escalated to the point that it could have practically paid for a few seconds of DALLAS ....

— The late, great Douglass Adams

Having been around the block a few times, I know the difference between today and ever after. So yes, this is today.

All in all, pleased with what I have composed in 2026 so far, the Opp. 205-210, albeit less than half an hour of music all told.

Although I have some notions for a new piece/adaptation or two (and an unfinished chamber orchestra piece) the plain fact is that today I feel no particular motivation to creative work, particularly no need to write another large-scale work for the shelf.

This is not despondency, but merely a current report. I could see the situation turning on a dime. I do not, at the moment, see the dime.

I was thinking of a piece for horn and organ, but the response to my suggestion was at best unenthusiastic, and I do not feel like writing another piece no one else actually wants.

Gravity Is In

 Ernest Borgnine playing a Russian (in Ice Station Zebra.) Now I have lived!
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

A dull, argumentative bigmouth who sets back the art of conversation a thousand years...
— Rod Serling (1963)

With the completion of One for Ahmad, Op. 208 for the 1 December troika, and apparently semi-subconsciously reflecting that there is probably room/need for another piece, yesterday I wrapped up the Opus 210. Semi-subconsciously, because a night or two before I dreamt of composing a piece. In my dream the initial conceit of the piece came to me clearly: an ostinato with the two flutes which takes its time, thereby setting up the drama of the bass clarinet entrance. In my dream the piece bore the title The Measure of a Life, which is one of those things which seemed better in the dreamworld than upon waking. But what I felt was the title which suited the piece as it took shape in my waking labors was Gravity Is What Keeps Me Abed at Night.

Photo by Maria Bablyak.

Re-Thinking December

 While it is by no means the chiefest of my quarrels with Peter Jackson’s Tolkien adaptation, the accent in Sméagol is so glaringly obvious, I fail to see any rationale whatsoever for rhyming it with “beagle.”
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Gene Wilder: Do you call this tea?
Marty Feldman: No, I call it hot water. I was rinsing out the cup when you grabbed it.
— The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes’ Smarter Brother

First thoughts for our December date at King’s Chapel appeared here. However, we shall again be a trio, though a different trio. As a result, I have designated a new scoring and discovered new musical material for One for Ahmad, Op. 208. Dennis Báthory-Kitsz, Frank Warren  & Chris Forbes have graciously and gamely consented to compose into the change, as well. And another new piece is sneaking up on me: Gravity Is What Keeps Me Abed at Night.

And we have July rehearsals in the book for the Sextet.

Soiled Amplitudes

 The Sound and the Chewy: A fable of the effable
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Correct is not everything, even if I seem to make that point; rather, in this economically stressed culture, it tends to be an either-or choice. A composer colleague told me about an orchestral work that was commissioned and performed here--an acceptable, well-received, flawed performance. Some years later, he used his life savings to hire a pay-for-play orchestra in eastern Europe to record it. He said it was correct, a good example of his composition, but he was disappointed that it did not have the life and enthusiasm and raw musicality of the local performance.
— Dennis Báthory-Kitsz, Soiled Amplitudes

Soiled Amplitudes, Dennis Báthory-Kitsz
2026

Subtitled My Musical Composition and Notational Aesthetic in Five Seasons. The subtitle does much of my work for me, but I shall try not to be lazy. I knew that graphic scores would be a significant part of the book, as I had seen the author call for samples while the book was in preparation. This review should not be about me, yet a word about my background is needed, I think, to put my review into fair perspective. From my days as an undergrad music student, graphic scores puzzled rather than stimulated me, and for the most part those puzzles did not engage me. During the years of my graduate work, I played from non-conventional notation a few times, usually in good faith. One of these occasions stands out as clearly the least musically gratifying performance experience in my life. Here in the Boston area two composers with whom I have collaborated have enjoyed working in graphic notation (worth pointing out that while I simply use “graphic notation” as shorthand, Dennis explains that there is a distinction between “graphical notation” and “performance scores”). I respect their enthusiasm without having felt any inclination as a composer to tread that musical path myself. That will serve as sufficient fair disclosure, though I will add that I saw Dennis’ book (I have collaborated with him and will therefore use his Christian name) as an opportunity to enjoy having what might be considered a musical deficit of mine challenged by a colleague’s expertise. The book is well organized, handsomely printed and well written. As a musical exositio pro vita sua, it was, I found, a thoroughly engaging and enjoyable read. Not only a composer, the author is a poet of the musically lost. Now and again, I’ll read a statement or would-be summation and I think, “Perhaps, or perhaps not.” And part of the value for myself of thst statement hs been the times when I found that I need to reflect, to ensure that if I set that assertion aside, there is deliberation in my process, and not the mere mental twitch that masquerades as so much “thought” in the present day. So although, as noted above, this review should not be about me, part of the book’s value for me was to prompt me to think and reflect on some matters which I had set aside sometime ago. The musician who is engaged by graphic notation, and others such as myself, will in their several ways find this a highly illuming tome and a conversational autobiography worth the resding.

A Diary Found at Lynchburg

 Bubba Valentino stars in "The Last Lascar of NASCAR"
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Sam! My daydream had come all too true! They were here because Sam’s body had been found! And with that thought the dream-like state became even deeper, and I suddenly couldn’t think at all. This is how it is, I thought, when you are on your deathbed: you are helpless, and you can’t think, and you just wait for the end to come, except you never see it coming, because you can't think, and so you just try to breathe one more time, without hope, without any future, and whatever is about to happen to you just happens. You have no control, no willpower to control: you are completely powerless.
— Leo Schulte, Dial Emma for Murder

A Diary Found at Lynchburg, Leo Schulte
Potocki Press, 2022

Originally published as three separate titles—Why Begins With W: A Lesson in Murder, Dial Emma for Murder: A Killer’s Hang Up and Hex High School: Our Courses Are Cursed. Notwithstanding the fact that I am, shall we say, well past the target age of this Young Adult trilogy, I have read the original three books multiple times, finding them both fresh and (by now) well familiar. At the start of Why Begins With W, we learn of an apparent murder-suicide. However, the narrator (whose name and gender remain unknown throughout) comes to have doubts, and whether those doubts have any basis in the slippery facts is the question running through the three books. The narrator is befriended by two fellow students who, if they are reliable, appear to give reason to doubt the official police assessment of the case. The narrator is smart, though sufficiently self-aware to wonder if they’re as smart as they think. Both the first and second instalments end with cliff-hangers, and indeed my repeated experience has been that, having reached the end of Why Begins With W, I pretty much burn through the second and third books. The writing is witty and stylish, with coy, moderately hip references to pop culture. Also, like Sherlock Holmes (among others) our narrator finds classical music an aid to marshalling one’s thoughts. The narrator finds themself at repeated risk from delinquent schoolmates, is disappointed when making the attempt to interest crime professionals in an alternative view of the crimes (which proliferate over the course of the story.) At some point I shall read it again, so I certainly commend it to others’ reading.

Five Years Late (Is Better Than Never)

I sometimes wonder, Is there any point to asking myself rhetorical questions?
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Sounds are only clothes, garments. But what’s inside a piece of clothing is much more interesting, don’t you agree?
— Giacinto Scelsi (1905-1988)

Back when I was still at work on the Opus 169 organ pieces I sent a couple to my friend and erstwhile collaborator, Mark T. Engelhardt. Mark was the Minister of Music at the Episcopal Cathedral Church of St Paul when I first appeared in Boston. And lo! while searching on YouTube this week, what do I find, but that Mark uploaded a performance of the Op. 169 № 1 five year ago. Sure, part of me wishes I'd known sooner but mostly I’m simply and deeply gratified that Mark likes the piece enough to record a performance. 

Refreshed Lamentation

 Saw a great bumper sticker on the drive back from jury duty in May of 2010: Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. Study hard—Be evil.
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

...Prokofiev’s joy is that of a boy who has broken out into freedom, who thinks that everything is permitted, and who knows that he can achieve much.
— Leonid Sabanayev

The flute adaptation of the Lamentio pro sorore sua seemed to be a more involved affair than I had mentally budgeted, and indeed I wrote earlier today essentially to the effect that I would punt for a week. However, when I took stock this afternoon, I was further along than I had given myself credit for, so that’s a wrap on the Opus 202c. I am planning on a symphonic band version of Dark Side of the Sun. Will report. 

Thinking December

Hey! You! I’m not on yer dang cloud!

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

The Beach Boys: “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older?”

Me: “Just wait a couple of years, boys.”

While the sextet dates are not yet pencilable I’ve been mulling our next King’s Chapel concert as a quartet. On the docket at the outset:

Frank Warren, Quartet # 3, Op. 119 (6'30)

Chris Forbes, Pillars of Creation (9')

Dennis Báthory-Kitsz, new piece t/b/d

Henning, Cape of Good Nope (6')

The concert falls on what would have been my sister’s 62nd birthday, so the temptation to adapt the Lamentatio pro sorore sua (3') for C Flute and Alto Flute was not to be resisted. I’ve also tweaked the scoring of Dark Side of the Sun (8'30, composed before we recruited Greta) essentially swapping Bassoon for the Double-Bass. I began composing One for Ahmad in the spring but pretty much neglected it since. Fresh ideas came a couple of days ago. It would serve as a most suitable close to the program. 

2025: The Year in Henningmusick

 Seen on Threads: "The Mayor in Jaws is still the Mayor in Jaws 2. It is so important to vote in your local elections.
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

You’re not a musician, you’re a nostalgia act. The truth which an Elvis impersonator doesn’t want to hear, in or out of The Twilight Zone.

It is that time of year to do some musical housekeeping. Disclaimer: Not actually a comprehensive list, for a reason too generally uninteresting to spell out.

Music for the Un-Hip Hop, Op. 178 № 1
Two C Flutes, 6:30
First perf. 8 Apr 2025

Surfing an Earthquake, Op. 190
Three C Flutes, 5:30
First perf. 8 Apr 2025

Snootful of Hooch, op. 159a
Two C Flutes and Alto Flute, 6:30
First perf. 8 Apr 2025

Amorphous & Forward-Looking, Op. 196
C Flute, Alto Flute, Bass Clarinet, 5:30
First perf. 8 Apr 2025

Fantasy on When Jesus Wept, Op. 162a
Piccolo, Alto Flute, B-flat Clarinet, 4:00
First perf. 8 Apr 2025

Dark Side of the Sun, Op. 193
C Flute, Alto Flute, Bass Clarinet, Contrabass 8:00
First perf. 6 Aug 2026

A Dance Floor for the Introverted, Op. 178 № 2
Two C Flutes, 5:30
First perf. 6 Aug 2026

Fantasia on a Theme by Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Op. 197
C Flute, Alto Flute, B-flat Clarinet, Contrabass 8:30
First perf. 6 Aug 2026

Jazz for Nostalgic Squirrels, Op. 117b
C Flute, Alto Flute, B-flat Clarinet, Bass Clarinet, Bassoon & Contrabass 5:30
First perf. 5 Sep 2026

Fantasia on a Theme by Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Op. 197a
C Flute, Alto Flute, B-flat Clarinet, Bass Clarinet, Bassoon & Contrabass 8:30
First perf. 5 Sep 2026

Lamentatio pro sorore sua, Op. 202a
Bass Clarinet & Bassoon 3:00
First perf. 14 Oct 2026

Peace! The Charm’s Wound Up, Op. 204
C Flute, Alto Flute, Bass Clarinet & Bassoon, 3:45
First perf. 14 Oct 2026

Notes: Snootful of Hooch was originally for flute and vibraphone, and I have not despaired of its being thus presented someday.

It turns out that our Fall King’s Chapel date falls on my late sister’s birthday, so I am thinking about adapting the Lamentatio pro sorore sua (originally scored for two bass clarinets) for two flutes for the occasion.

Henningmusick in Malden Tomorrow

 Sir Neville Bartender and the Academy of St-Lemon-in-the-Peels

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Really don’t mind if you sit this one out.

— Ian Anderson, Jethro Tull’s Thick As a Brick

The two arrangements I posted about here, for clarinet (Mike Roesler) and bassoon (Greta Rosen) will be played as part of a variegated chamber music concert at First Lutheran Church in Malden, Massachusetts tomorrow at 4PM. The program opens with my friends Anne DiSciullo (horn) Paul Carlson (piano) and violinist Ann Irza (violin) playing the Brahms Horn Trio. and closes with a jazz set led by my acquaintance Larry Panzeri, a combo including my great friend Todd Brunel.

Fewer Imperatives or None

 I just learnt that the eye of the ostrich is larger than its brain: just like the President!
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Of all the artists recording at CBS Columbia Square in Hollywood, the Firesign Theatre understood best of all what it meant to make futuristic records in the context of Vietnam and the setbacks of 1968 in a studio that had been built to broadcast antifascist radio propaganda during World War II.
— Jeremy Braddock, Firesign: The Electromagnetic History of Everything as Told on Nine Comedy Albums (2024) p. 18.

As I may likely have alternately hinted or documented on this blog, I was highly fortunate in my composition instructors, who while doing their best to help me improve my practice of composition and at once to expand and focus my aural attention to gems in the Literature, did not adopt either a Procrustean method nor an inflexible authoritarian air. They treated me as not merely a person but as a colleague-in-training. Very rarely was there sharp critique, and well, that’s just part of the experience. I survived  (in the first place) and how much better to receive such a rebuke from a fellow musician with whom one has built a relationship (in the second.) Even Charles Wuorinen, whose stern reputation preceded him such that a colleague at Buffalo breathed a sigh of relief at having been assigned to Louis Andriessen’s studio instead — I found much less “forbidding” to work with than one might expect.

The environment contrasted in an illuming way from our first-year Music Theory sequence, in which there was more of a "this is the way things must be done” tone which both fitted the disciplined study of Theory and (honestly) harmonized, to to speak, with the instructor’s tendency to a dictatorial mien.

Overall, no complaint, as I learnt me my Music Theory but good even as I reserved a sense that the creative practice of Composition would perforce not be any slavish adherence to The Rules.

I’ve now been writing music for some 40 years since my graduation from the College of Wooster. Some thoughts, looking back.

Every artist probably finds inspiration in whatever musical sources he pleases. Others may or may not share his enthusiasm.

If any other artist tells you there is something or other you must do, it may well be their trip, and not yours.

My ears spend time both in listening to music completely new to me, and in revisiting pieces I  already love and know well. Those pieces have not changed, but my ears have.

Over time I have generally become more attuned to internal imperatives. The latest external imperative which I obeyed was the need to reorganize the April program at King’s Chapel as a trio.

Preoccupations at home have meant that I have not been composing. In the back of my musical mind I am gearing up to compositional readiness, although I have not absolutely settled on the next project.

Remembering Jacquie Levy Anew

 The recording assured me that assistance was only a moment away.

— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Mysteries conceal a truth, but direct curiosity to unveil it.

— Arnold Schoenberg

In my latter years of High School a friend drew me in to a kind of coffeehouse fellowship at his Episcopal parish. The Sign of the Fish was led by John & Jacquie Levy. On learning, in 2020, of Jacquie’s passing I wrote a small memorial piece, in response to my friend David Bohn’s latest call for scores. Another friend, Carson Cooman recently posted a performance:

My friend David Bohn’s première of Remembering Jacquie Levy is here.

Separately, my friend Aaron Larget-Caplan sent a lovely message t’other day, and he is starting to look at Aaron’s Uneasy Sleep.

Penny Candy Redux

 This morning, I heard someone use “literally” correctly, but completely superfluously. Quoth Bertie Wooster: O Death, where is thy jolly old sting?
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

What do you do? How do you do it, how do you create? I find it difficult [...] In truth, you will always find it difficult. The creation of an idea, the following of a story germ, the building up of a plot, the creating of people, of flesh-&-blood character — these are not easy things, they’re extremely difficult. But conversely — don’t be put off by the fact that this month you can’t do it, and next month is maybe even harder. This is, if not a lifetime process, it’s awfully close to it. The writer broadens, becomes deeper, becomes more observant, becomes more tempered, becomes much wiser over a period of time passing. It is not something that is injected into him by a needle, not something which comes on a wave of flashing, explosive light one night, and say, huzzah! Eureka! I’ve got it! And then proceeds to write the Great American Novel in eleven days. It doesn’t work that way, it’s a long, tedious, tough, frustrating process. But never, ever be put aside by the fact that it’s hard. If it weren't hard, everybody would be a writer ....
— Rod Serling

As noted here, the first piece I composed after my stroke, at the kind invitation of David Bohn was the brief toy piano piece Penny Candy. And now, after meeting up afresh with both Olivia Kieffer and Carson Cooman, suddenly we have two fresh performances of the piece.

On Bassoon and Clarinet

 A discovery lovely but rubbery.

— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

The tablet was not chalky like aspirin and not exactly capsule-slick either. It felt strange in the hand, curiously sensitive to the touch but at the same time giving the impression that it was synthetic, insoluble, elaborately engineered. ... I watched her sit at the cluttered desk for two or three minutes, slowly rotating the tablet between her thumb and index finger. She licked it and shrugged.

“Certainly doesn’t taste like much.”

“How long will it take to analyze the contents?”

“There’s a dolphin’s brain in my in-box but come see me in forty-eight hours.”

— Don DeLillo, White Noise

A Chamber concert date has arisen at First Lutheran Church in Malden. May the 17th at 4PM. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work for most of the band, so the Henning Ensemble per se will not participate. However, Greta has arranged to play some duets with a clarinetist, so I’ve adapted Janky Juke Joint and one of the Offertories for the twain.

The photo is not First Lutheran in Malden, but First Congregational Church in Woburn.

Yesterday at King's

 Dances With Wolves, meet Grooves in Pavement
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

A man can fail many times, but he isn't a failure until he begins to blame somebody else.
— John Burroughs

Thoroughly pleased with yesterday’s concert at King’s Chapel. Excellent guest music, superb, sensitive musicianship, a nice flow to the program. Whether the fault lay with my brain or my eyes (or both together) I got lost during Dennis’ piece (I did hate doing that to a guest and friend) and worked to find myself while trying not to broadcast my being lost. On one hand, I continued to keep time while aware that I was at risk of missing measures of four. On t’other the band knew the piece so well that if/when my pattern was off, nothing went off the rails.

To Form a More Perfect Neuron (State of the Brain)

 I have no pet peeves. I let them all remain wild.

— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Ingrid Bergman: Why won’t you let me be happy?

Cary Grant: No one’s stopping you.

An exchange in Hitchcock’s Notorious, Cary Grant being rather an ass.

In the Before Times, which is to say (I realize I ought to clarify) prior to my stroke. I worked at composition A Lot. I don’t say I worked absolutely every day—which would be a self-flattering exaggeration—but there were in fact substantial stretches of time when I did some composing each and every day. Moreover, it was a comparatively rare time when I was not at work on more than one score. In remarking thus I disregard whole months when I left White Nights in practically complete neglect. Since my stroke in November of 2018 things have been otherwise and far from consistent. So here am I thinking out loud in the latest self-diagnosis/evaluation/discovery which is What Is This Thing Called the Henning Musical Brain?

Since my stroke, my experience has varied from ‘reasonably on-form’ solid productivity to ‘do I even want to compose anymore?’ Even in spells of the latter darkness I did not worry that it was any permanent condition, but I simply accepted the question mark as a welcome guest, so there was no note of aught like despair in the condition. more than once—including recently—I simply did not know what I might want to write. And while that niche genre of Ignorance was something almost completely unknown to me before my stroke, I have learnt that it is simply periodically The Way It Is, and I embrace it as part of myself. Composition has not become in any way ‘more dificult’ for me, indeed I find that if I am ‘in the composing vein,’ more often than not the pieces come to write themselves. There, now: enough about my brain.

I do not yet care enough about the Op. 192 chamber orchestra piece to resume work on it. And although (as remarked earlier) there is already enough Henningmusick for the Grand Sextet, Two thoughts occurred to me between swaths of sleep t’other day, around 05:00. To borrow the passacaglia theme from Plotting for the next piece for the Sextet, The Texas Chainsaw Passacaglia (which won’t be needed until 2027) and basing the concertante piece for clarinet and band on The Mask I Wore Before.

From the Archive

 I’d like to take Ringo at his word when he says he’d like to be under the sea, but there’s, well, respiration to consider. He might want to think it through better, is all I’m saying.

— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I suggest you use your own brains, and give up the idea of renting mine.

— Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe

16 years ago, the Sine Nomine choir gave the beautiful second performance of the Passion, Opus 92. I’m sure I’ve remarked more than once on how rare it is for a composer to enjoy the second performance of a substantial work. So yes, I’m just basking at present.

What Next?

It’s not “daylight savings time.” That’s imprecise speech. Also, while we’re at it: Daylight saving time does not really save daylight. It should be called daylight shifting time.
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I tried to arrive at an intellectual concept of Lurch. Actually I think [The Addams Family] is a plea for tolerance. here is a family that has lived in peace and love, but they’re different, they’re misunderstood and feared. But the Addamses try to be kind to those who are frightened by them. We’re trying to show that it is misshapen motives which produce violence, not misshapen forms.
— Ted Cassidy

At first the answer is easy: what’s next is prep for the 21 April concert at King’s Chapel (first rehearsal this Monday.)

No, the question is really What do I compose next? Now that the Opus 207 Pavane & Giguette are done, a project which lay more or less out of mind long enough, it had been tempting to consider it abandoned, almost. The Pavane has been done some little while, a salvage job, redeeming a short clavichord piece, A Sigh for Arni, which I had composed for a 15 Minutes of Fame call (one of numerous pieces so composed which ultimately failed to tickle the fancy of the performers who initiated the call ... and I harbor no ill will there; I just resent, quite impartially, the circumstance of my writing music I believe in, only to see it orphaned.) Hence, my eagerness to find viable environments for my neglected sonic offspring. So, half the Op. 207 has kind of been done forever, and I found I had no real plan for the second piece. Perhaps my first thought was gigue-ish, but I did nothing at whatever time that thought tripped along my neurons. Then I had the thought of cannibalizing a clarinet/piano piece whose score I can visualize, but I'm jiggered if I remember either the opus number or the title I attached to it. Even this thought, however, was fundamentally mistaken: I had the idea of reassigning the clarinet line to the pedals — which notion lost sight of the fact that the piece is to be for manuals only. I did return (as is clear from the title) to the idea of a Gigue. I made a good start on it Saturday the 7th, and pretty much chopped it out Sunday the 8th. The dedicatee is pleased, writing Karl Henning thanks so much, Karl! I really like its upbeatness! So the Op. 207 went from near dead letter to satisfactorily wrapped up with gratifying rapidity.

So, no nearer an answer to What’s next? just yet.

Now, my default compositional priority tends to be imminent prospect of execution. All music for the April concert is already on the stands. And both the concert(s) of the full sextet and the fall King’s Chapel date (all dates t/b/d) have a full complement of Henningmusick already. I will have parts to lay out, but I shall leave that task for later. I shall wait until the March CRWE concert to evaluate the need to lay out parts for the Op. 200.

I have two unfinished projects I might see to: the Op. 192 chamber orchestra piece, for which the Universe may have no more use than it has thus far had for Opus 179, For You, Fuchsia. And a start (as yet only just a start) on a piece for my friend Ahmad. But there has arisen a third option, or the notion of a third option, anyway: another Symphony, this one in two movements. I know that I have posted to the effect of (i.e. plainly asserted) No more symphonies until one of those I’ve already written is performed. And, well, I’ll stipulate the emotional verity of that exhalation at the time. But I wonder if sometimes I write/state such things as a kind of marker, that at some time should find itself tested as to whether it was a genuinely binding decree, or only a momentary musical pique. I’m already musing another symphony for band, this one more compact than the Opus 148. Welp, we shall see, shan’t we?

And Here Comes the Opus 207

 Believe that there is no scorn in the chuckle I got from hearing in a commentary upon an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, “It’s all based on real theory.”

— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

There’s no reason to shoot at me! I’m a dentist!

— Alan Arkin in The In-Laws

My friend Carson Cooman invited me to contribute to his current Pavane and Galliard project, paired pieces for organ (manuals only.) For the Pavane, I salvaged/expanded a keyboard piece memorializing Arni Cheatham, beloved and respected saxophonist of the Aardvark Jazz Orchestra. In place of a Galliard, I felt like composing a Giguette in support of my excellent friend the Rev. Marj Stark, presently recovering from surgery. That is likely a wrap on the Opus 207.

April Program

 Postcards from Dreamland: I was searching the index of a book for Leonard Nimoy, but found Leonard Nimovskaya instead (which is misgendered) and I overheard someone say, “His name is really Leonard Nehemiah Schwartz, you know.”
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Two hunters are out in the woods when one of them collapses. He doesn’t seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other guy whips out his phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps, “My friend is dead! What can I do?” The operator says "Calm down. I can help. First, let’s make sure he's dead." There is a silence, then a gun shot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says “OK, now what?”
— A joke by Spike Milligan, famous for the Goon Show.

Here’s what I’m a-thinking for our trio concert at King’s Chapel on Tuesday, 21 April:

Love Song & Ruin

Karl Henning, The Dance on Ruin's Edge, Op. 209 (première).
Henning, Offertories I (Op. 201 Nos. 1-3).
Frank Warren, Three Notions of Love & Ruin, Op. 50 (première).
Henning, Offertories II (Op. 201 Nos. 4 & 5).
Dennis Báthory-Kitsz Just Another Love Song (première).
Henning, Offertories III (Op. 201 Nos. 6 & 7).
Henning, Janky Juke Joint, Op. 178 № 3 (première)

Notes:

quartets by Báthory-Kitsz, Forbes, Henning & Warren have been deferred to the fall. The Warren Op. 50 and Henning Op. 201 (and Op. 178 № 3) are duets.

Rehearsals to begin soon.

Bigger Nope

 Breaking news: Cocoanut Oil Can Save My Brain!
Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I wouldn’t say that I never have liked you. I have disliked and detested you with great cordiality. I found you to be, from the moment you came into my office, a predatory, grasping, conniving, acquisitive animal of a man, without heart, without conscience, without compassion, without even a subtle hint of the common decencies. Shall we go on from there?
— John Anderson addressing Albert Salmi in “Of Late I Think of Cliffordville”

Thinking ahead to Sextet Time, today I added B-flat clarinet and Double-bass to Cape of Good Nope. The additions are mostly coloristic. The Double-bass doubles the Bassoon (at the octave where the range permits.) Sometimes the clarinet similarly reinforces either the C flute or Alto flute, but there are passages in which I gave fresh pitches to the clarinet to enrich the harmony. So, that’s a wrap on the Opus 206a, in which Todd Brunel and Dave Zox can participate.

Rain Check Redeemed

 “Well, but not having any clue has never interfered with my certainty that I have the answer.”
Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

My sister, the dentist-baffling comedienne....

Conversation with my dentist and oral hygienist

OH: Do you chew gum?

Me: Occasionally I'll chew Trident.

OH: You should try Orbit. It’s the only one I’ll chew.

Me: But they don't have cinnamon.

Dentist: You chew Trident? If you like that I have one you’ll like better.

Me: Orbit?

D: Have you tried it?

Me - No, because they don’t have a flavor I like. So I guess you are the one dentist?

[blank look from all]

Me: You know. The commercial? “9 out of 10 dentists recommend Trident” ...you must be the one hold-out.

[blank look].

I should really quit trying to be funny.

As noted here, my friend Frank Warren’s Quartet will regretfully be deferred to the Fall, and he agreed to write a new piece for April. His Three Notions of Love & Ruin, Op. 50 for Alto Flute & Bassoon was delivered on 28 February.

I need to consider the flow of the program....

Let the Joint Jump

 Life with WCRB: When even the parakeet says, “Oh, God! Not the Grieg Piano Concerto AGAIN?!”

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Chief: “Max, take good care of this; the tailor charged us a fortune to rip it up like that.”

Agent 86: “Chief, I’ve got a dry cleaner that’ll do this for nothing.”

Probably my sole pre-compositional thought for the final of the Op. 178 duets was: a short, jaunty wrap-up. The first sound file (from January 2025) is simply the hopped-up “Three Blind Mice” alluded to here. It was only a start, but so pleased was I with those opening 15 bars that my thought then was to make the entire piece a patchwork of found musical objects. By April of 2025, the piece ran to 70-ish bars, at around which point, I’ll allow that work pretty much stalled. Ian Anderson/Jethro Tull came to my aid: I decided that his Bach adaptation, “Bourrée” would provide the next episode. I made note of three tunes yet to employ (I wound up not using “Frère Jacques.”) Most notably, I wanted to close the piece with Thelonious Monk’s “Straight, No Chaser.” I finally girt up my musical loins this past weekend, and essentially finished composition yesterday. As at times happens, I got all the notes set down as I wished, and today I saw to setting the dynamics landscape, so I can now pronounce Janky Juke Joint, Op. 178 № 3 finished.

At Last

 WCRB Programming sez, “Take a walk on the mild side!”

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Mine auld friend Chris Forbes, I have found it highly gratifying to see, has hit a composition Sweet Spot and is completing new pieces right and left. On our phone call, he remarked that it has been a simple matter of doing some work each day. An attentive reader of this blog will know that I have made a similar observation more than once. I post today to report that I returned to work at last on Janky Juke Joint. For now, that is all.

For When We Are Again Six

 Pärt’s spare parrot

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

When I was your age, I’d have jumped at the chance. But then again, I wasn’t second rate.

— Jonathan Winters twitting Jack Klugman in a pool room in The Twilight Zone

Pam Marshall just finished her new piece for us, Dreaming in Spirals. Alan Westby & Chris Forbes are at work on new pieces.  I intend adding clarinet and double-bass to Cape of Good Nope for color. I have already composed Simple Music specifically for the event (whenever we may pin a date down.) And we should reprise the Fantasia on a Theme of Rahsaan Roland Kirk. I feel just a shade sheepish looking so far ahead when I still need to finish Janky Juke Joint, but I should look ahead, you know.

Photo: on a balcony in Puerto Rico 14 years ago today, composing one of the Tiny Wild Avocados.

Eleven Years Ago Yesterday

 More people are misspelling the falls “Niagra;” wonder where that comes from?

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

The spirit of freedom is not buried in the grave of the valiant.

— Dr Martin Luther King, Jr

From the archive ... 23 Feb 2015:

A growth story: added 28 measures (40") to Discreet Erasures, Op. 99
More tomorrow!

After the passing of Charles Wuorinen, I retroactively designated him the piece’s dedicatee. For his spirit presided over my work on the piece. Not necessarily in its musical material or operations, but as I fondly remembered how he encouraged me to push beyond whatever insufficiently-perceived musical barriers might have hemmed me in. Fun fact: I submitted the Op. 99 to a call for scores. It was not selected, of course, but the episode stands out for being the rare instance when I got some specific feedback. One of the judges pronounced the piece ‘unplayable,’ (which at the least justifies my belated dedication.) I am not convinced that this is at all true, and the incident may just illustrate the limitations of the judges empaneled for such calls.

The photo was taken by Maria Bablyak.

Rain Check Issued

 Occasionally someone asks me, “Do you dream music?”

Last nightI dreamt that The Addams Family and Mission: Impossible had swapped theme songs. Your mission, Gomez, should you decide to accept it ... the Secretary will deny any knowledge of Uncle Fester. And the IMF team? — they’re creepy and they're kooky.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

... my, and probably your, son.

— Madeleine Kahn, straightening Graham Chapman out on a detail in Yellowbeard

As reported here, one of the pieces written by colleagues for the April concert at King’s Chapel was Frank Warren’s Opus 119 Quartet. Frank and I have been in touch regarding the fact that we shall be a trio for this concert, and he is setting to write a duet for Alto Flute and Bassoon by way of a substitution.

nearly a poem

 Lawd, I done cracked my iPhone’s screen,

Dang, but it’s the wust trouble I ever seen,

If’n I kin git it fixed, mebbe I won’t feel so mean....

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Maurice Chevalier: Your maman was a married woman.

Audrey Hepburn: I’m SO glad ....

he wrote it and he called it a poem

he wrote a poem about the things he sees

the hair of the person sitting before

the toes of the shoes of the person sitting behind

both black and with its own particular shine

the black cat crouched beneath the rose-bush the cat running from the sound of his voice

the green of the leaf the red of the single blossom

the green of the tag at the black cat's neck the sound of the tag in the collar as the cat runs

the black of the laptop of the person sitting beside

the gentle black of his suit the cut of the suit

the black of his hair the black of his turban

the smell of the green leaf the scent of the red blossom

the feeling in his ears as he walks into the silence of the small backyard

for there is a feeling that is a special feeling

apart from the silence itself

and if he could get at that feeling why

he would write a poem

and the sky would weep

and the tears would be joy

and that black cat would wish it had stayed indoors

(...nearly a poem)

9.vi.99

Looking Forward

 Some dance to remember, some dance to ... some dance to ... something or other ....

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

I was playing a lot of bad guys at that time, doing a lot of westerns — which was interesting for a kid from Brooklyn....

— Martin Landau

I have an addendum to my recent post about what a lucky bloke I am: It is wonderful that our ensemble and indeed my musical work generally has found such a place of warm welcome as Woburn’s Lutheran Church of the Redeemer and their partner congregation, First Lutheran Church in Malden. We love playing in the space, and the parishioners make us feel enormously welcome.

Friday’s concert now in the rearview mirror, we concentrate on preparing for the 21 April concert at Boston’s historic King’s Chapel. The program will be titled Love Song & Ruin.

Repertory to include: The seven Op. 201 Offertories (Flute duet) The Dance on Ruin’s Edge, Op. 209 (Picc, Bass Fl, Bn) Chris Forbes’ Pi Meson, Op. 70 (C Fl, alto Fl, Bn) Dennis Báthory-Kitsz’ Just Another Love Song (C Fl, alto Fl, Bn) And, the third of the Op. 178 flute duos, Janky Juke Joint, to be completed. Concert order t/b/a

Charms and Offertories

 Classical Music Radio for the Short of Attention Span

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

This is a bunch of grown people fighting a rubber chicken, basically.

— director James Cameron discussing a scene from Aliens

The heart of last night’s concert—with which I am heartily pleased—was the redemption of an implicit promise I made internally to Robt Gross and Kevin Scott. We first played their pieces —Four’s  the Charm and Min'khah (Offertory)—In remembrance Shoshanna C. Winson, respectively, on our October program at King’s Chapel, but, in a freak hiccough on the Universe’s part, that was the day when the YouTube feed was glitchy and failed, so that (A) the composers could not hear the performance and (B) there was no document of the event. Partly for that reason, but especially because we like the pieces a lot, I chose to reprise those works this month. Kevin was especially warm in his appreciation of last night’s performance. And I was delighted with the presentation of the Henning pieces. We shall have video and audio documents of last night. And now: to prepare for April at King’s Chapel.

Eve of the Concert

 Everything changes, but the linens don't change themselves.

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Audrey Hepburn: Well, aren’t you going to kiss me, Charlie?

Albert Salmi: Ain’t he kinda close?

Audrey Hepburn: You’re going to kiss me, not him.

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Woburn is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom meeting.

Topic: Karl Henning Concert

Time: Feb 13, 2026 07:00 PM Eastern Time (US and Canada)

Join Zoom Meeting

https://us06web.zoom.us/j/89177940592?pwd=XkA37QpacUaIgELoCXeeDJr9XZe2ir.1

Meeting ID: 891 7794 0592

Passcode: 566768

Reflecting on Luck

 I’ve seen smarter analyses on impulse tattoos.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

It was a special quality, among the many admirable qualities possessed by Mr Pecksniff, that the more he was found out, the more hypocrisy he practised. Let him be discomfited in one quarter, and he refreshed and recompensed himself by carrying the war into another. If his workings and windings were detected by A, so much the greater reason was there for practicing without loss of time on B, if it were only to keep his hand in.

— Dickens, Martin Chuzzlewit

We had an excellent Henning Ensemble rehearsal on Friday, 6 Feb. We intended another rehearsal on Saturday, but Mother Nature had other ideas, largely in the of of fresh snow and bitter cold, so we chose instead to work a bit later Friday. I probably repeat myself, but I am a fortunate composer in having colleagues who carried on with rehearsals in January when I was indisposed, and also in having a colleague who has stepped forward graciously to assist with various admin tasks. Our concert at Redeemer is this Friday, February the 13th.

Very separately, I have been slightly unfair musicologically to Pierre Boulez for decades. At this point there is no knowing the source, nor the degree to which I have deviated therefrom, but I had this idea that he had made a pronouncement to the effect of “No music written before 1952 is worth listening to.” It appears that this is not anything  Boulez (whom, be it noted, I will always respect as both composer and conductor) said, and I have no notion of where I failed there. But fail I did.  What he did write, which is no whit less inartistic and wrongheaded, was: [A]ny musician who has not experienced — I do not say understood, but truly experienced — the necessity of dodecaphonic music is USELESS. For his whole work is irrelevant to the needs of his epoch. Fortunately, as with Wagner, the rubbish Boulez pronounced does not alter the fact that he was a great composer.

The Return of the Brave

 I recently misspelled “Punxsutawney.” I wish to apologize to groundhogs, wood-chucks, nutria, wallabies, & three-toed sloths everywhere.

So if the groundhog watches the super bowl, there’ll be nine weeks more of dumb beer commercials?

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

If a nobler waits for thee,

I will weep aside,

It is well that thou shouldst be

Of the nobler, bride.

— Geo. MacDonald

Some time ago, my friend Olivia Kieffer composed a set of 55 short pieces for toy piano, The Texture of Activity. I am the dedicatee of a piece titled The Brave, whereof our mutual friend Carson Cooman just uploaded a performance:

A Time of (Mostly) Non-Doing

 My music never lies, but at times it may wink roguishly.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

... and today when the satellite net is crammed with the stupid drivel of the Hot Humorous 100, where can a gone cat like yourself get the laughs that we were making then just for you?

— David Ossman as Dexter Fong

Mostly what I have not been doing is, finishing composition of Janky Juke Joint. It’s one of those times when I seem simply not to feel motivated to write. Before my stroke, I simply worked on at least one composition, and I was not concerned with motivation. I lived motivation. Is it my brain behaving differently since my stroke? Lassitude resulting from most of the Universe’s indifference to my work? It’s unclear and I don’t seek clarification. I know that I shall write more, but not today. (For one thing, I plan to include the piece on the April program.)  The q. of the Universe’s non-need for my work does not occupy my thoughts one way or another at present. I am simply at musical rest.

Let's Dance

 Although it turned out that he had said something very different, what I heard, happily free of context was: “I’d rather marry Yoda.” This was, frankly, of greater interest than the actual discourse.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes,

We convince by our presence.

— Walt Whitman

Is it a sad number? Well, we’re still dancing. I finished The Dance at Ruin’s Edge, Op. 209 today, Part of the piece is a kind of echo of some shakuhachi music I listened to recently. I called Peter to apologize. The piece calls for bass flute, which it is no picnic to hold and play. at four minutes or so, the piece is not unreasonable in that way way, but requiring Peter to schlep a bass along with his C and Alto Flutes is no inconsiderable burden.

The Dance Goes On

 TFW it’s a three-dog night, and all you’ve got is a single irritable gerbil.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

But he had always treasured one particular idea drawn from the philosophy of Indian music above all — its thinking about silence. According to Indian theory, silence – anhad – lies at the heart of music, and anhad made audible is the primordial, indivisible sound, nad, or Nad Brahma, nad as the supreme reality made audible. It is only through experiencing Nad Brahma that we can lose ourselves in the eternal silent ocean of anhad. An echo of nad is to be heard in the endless dhran drones of the tanpura that underpin Indian music – and surely, then, it was also to be heard in the drones of his pipes. Finally he learned that it is only through the striking of two objects together – aghat, from the verb 'to wound' – that nad can be produced out of anhad. So — vulnerability, the piercing of the senses and of the heart, the pain of wounded silence: only from this can music be born. It was a beautiful, humble way of thinking about sound, and it always reminded him of his responsibility as a musician: to make sound I must destroy silence — is what I am playing worthy of this?
— I posted this on Facebook some years ago, but do not now remember the source at all, at all.

With all our family basically trying to feel better from this onerous flu-like ailment, it is some weeks since I’ve felt I had any steam for composing, and when I have reflected on that, I’ve found it mildly vexatious. Today, methought I would make a go at applying a little discipline (ma non troppo) and I made good progress on the Opus 209. Perhaps two weeks have passed since I composed the first four-ish measure of The Dance at Ruin’s Edge, the new trio for piccolo, bass flute and bassoon for the April program. One peculiarity is: m. 29 ff. feels like the genuine ending for the piece, so there will be creative insertion, but not today.

Going Trio for April

 The date rarely figures in my dreams, so when it does, of course it goes funny. Dreamt that the date was January 48th. You can imagine my puzzlement. Almost everyone I asked agreed that January should have 31 days, except one who suggested, "Maybe it was decided to have 50 days in January this year.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Confidence is what you have before you understand the problem.

— Woody Allen

It turns out that we shall be a threesome for our April concert in King’s Chapel. Dennis and Chris are graciously assisting with there-org by writing anew. And indeed Chris has just finished a superb six-minute piece for us: Pi Meson. I’ve begun a trio of mine own: The Dance at Ruin’s Edge.

Thanks to a wintry indisposition, I could not participate in any of the three rehearsals we slated for January. But this composer is so very fortunate in his colleagues, that the rehearsals went forward anyway. Now, to mend so that I can rehearse on 6 & 7 Feb.

Christopher Gordon Forbes · Pi Meson - 1 - 20 - 26