Inching Along

Hearing that song from 1981 set me to thinking that the utter lack of imagination in the saxophone playing does not at all suggest a man at work.
Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

What was once regarded as roaring, blaring dissonance coupled with incoherent rhythmic and formal patterns has become accepted today as one of the great musical creations of the age.
—David Hall, from notes to the 1951 LP of the BSO playing Le sacre du printemps under Pierre Monteux’s direction.

It occurs to me, as I have begun composing the Opus 178 № 2, A Dance Floor for the Introverted, that I have unwittingly sidled into a kind of landmark. As I used routinely to do before my stroke, I am at work on more than one piece simultaneously. Both the Dance Floor and the Op. 197 Fantasia are at about the one-minute mark, as I have tweaked the latter and expanded it slightly.

Surfing for Beasts

 When I typed slushier, my phone “corrected” it to slasher. Should I worry?

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Ed Begley, Jr.: “You gonna make it on your pension?”

Peter Falk: “I’ll give it a shot.”

(The In-Laws)

Working backwards, Peter and Carol are encouraging me, with a set of six Duos by Robt Muczynski in mind, to build a set of three pieces with Music for the Un-Hip Hop as the first of the triptych. In other words, finding this piece of mine at once a toothy challenge and (I quote) “fun to play,” they demand more, I’ll say it again: these are the sort of talented, receptive collaborators of whom every composer dreams. Clearly, the mission is to re-nominate the Hop Op. 178 № 1, and let there be two duets more. Today’s Henning Ensemble rehearsal was excellent, and we are in fantastic shape for the April concert (a week from tomorrow, that is.)

Last night, I finished adapting Surfing an Earthquake for four bass clarinets, for Improbable Beasts. The custodian of one of the said beasts has responded with a most gratifying warmth. I am hoping that the Chief Wrangler of the menagerie likes it, as well.

@karl-henning-1

Interlude With Chopin

 It says more about Timothy Burton than about Danny de Vito, but I greatly prefer Burgess Meredith as The Penguin.

I  don’t blame de Vito for taking the job, though.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Simplicity is the final achievement. After one has played a vast quantity of notes and more notes, it is simplicity that emerges as the crowning reward of art.

—Frédéric Chopin

One’s friend doesn’t celebrate a 75th birthday every day (or year) and not all of one’s friends, on turning 75, celebrate by playing Chopin’s Opus 28 in a single sitting. Thus, today was a signal treat! It had been an unconscionably long time since I had listened to the set and i was blown away afresh by the intersection of inventiveness and elegance.

Breathe It and Weep

At the supermarket, I asked someone where I might find minced garlic. They didn’t quite understand me, and on realizing this, referred me to someone nearby who did help me. Maybe my first someone let it roll off their back, or maybe they felt uncomfortable (I’ve been in those shoes, myself.) So I stepped back over to my original someone to thank them for their help. The smile on their face may be the highlight of my day.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

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

—Arnold Schoenberg

I ’ve reported that Thursday’s Henning Ensemble rehearsal was excellent. One benefit from working with such accomplished and amiable colleagues is, I get helpful and musical suggestions coming from the best of places. Thus the “actionable item” a/k/a homework I took away was, to add breaths to the Fantasy on When Jesus Wept. The Ur-text being Billings’ round, with its inherent cyclicality (in the first place) and as the raison d’être of my piece is perforce the liberties I take around that repetitive structure, any guidance the composer might give in the matter of breaths—particularly (as I read it) any place where the three players might breathe all together is germane,

One non-urgent takeaway from the rehearsal has to do with Surfing an Earthquake, the flute trio. Like as Stravinsky did supply missing sextus and bassus parts for the Gesualdo motet Illumina nos, methought “What if I adapt Surfing for four bass clarinets?” Which is to say that I supply a new bassus, and then pass the piece along to the Improbable Beasts. 

In Full Retreat

 Not for all the Lipitor in Tripoli.

Pärt’s spare parrot.

A saucepan of Ispahan.

Havoc nachos!

Not a full double, but perhaps a 1.5-whammy.

Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

...everybody knows that this is the midst of the disillusionment and heartbreak season, and with the recent outbreak of that suicidal strain of despair up in Boston, well, you’d better keep a close watch on your emotions. So, remember the seven danger signals of depression ... that’s a general and lasting feeling of hopelessness, inability to concentrate, loss of self-esteem, fear of rejection, misdirected anger, feelings of guilt and extreme dependency on others. At the first sign of these symptoms, friends, follow these simple rules: keep working, drink as much as possible and take your television's advice. And you know, more TVs recommend an amazing, new psychic breakthrough than any other, and that’s Confidenz in the System, fast, safe and guaranteed by constant federal control,Confidenz in the System will keep them in power longer, longer, longer, and tend to come and obscure the miseries of disillusionment and despair. Confidenz in the System. In easy-to-swallow propaganda form, a new fast-acting thought-control. So have some today.

— David Ossman

I was thinking of “Tomorrow Never Knows” ostensibly by the Beatles and wondered, What if anything are Paul and George doing on this number? Not surprisingly, the game in Retreat has been, “hold to the source where it serves the text. Where it does not, do otherwise.” One especially good thing is, the final cadence serves very nicely. So nicely, in fact, that where I was originally thinking of having the trombone close the piece out (as it introduces the piece) that choral cadence will indeed be the end. I finished the approach thereunto yesterday morning. Although I was second-guessing myself right and left, two colleagues talked me down off the ledge by expressing their reasoned musical approbation of the score. Triad alumnus Julian Bryson, my collaborator in bringing such a piece to performance, responded, I think this looks really cool!  I can’t wait to dive in more carefully.  I just took a quick glance at the score, but I’ll spend a bit more time with it when I can. I love the canon that grows so slowly through the range.  It reminds me of “Choose Something Like a Star,” but a bit more ominous. Later today I shall remit the score to the author, David Ossman. Rehearsal yesterday with the lean, mean trio version of the Henning Ensemble was excellent. I t was highly gratifying to hear at last both Snootful of Hooch and Music for the Un-Hip Hop. Of the latter, flutist Carol Epple emphasized to me that while it is not easy, it is great fun to play. On a completely separate topic (program notes) I remarked on-line to  my colleague Robt Gross, Some days I think my go-to program note should be: “The fact is, I wrote the notes I wanted to hear.” The Un-Hip Hop exemplifies my compositional method of writing a piece which I would find fun to play. My band-mates especially complimented my scoring in the adapted Yesterday’s Snow. Oh, and it was great to hear Surfing an Earthquake and Amorphous and Forward-Looking. I now have homework which must wait until tomorrow: adding breath marks to the Fantasy on When Jesus Wept.

’s

—

The Retreat Begun in Earnest

A Thanksgiving turkey in the oven is a bird not easily to be flipped.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.

—Chas Dickens

I got a lot of work done on the Opus 199, even while it entails a genetic make-over of the Opus 198. This too is a mode of the Craft.

Satori in Woburn

Today has been like the acid flashback, only without the acid: someone on the radio crooning “Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime,” and seeing at the supermarket Magic Fruity Pebbles
Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?
— Abraham Lincoln

Gentle Reader, when I first set to work on this post, its heading was The Plan, Insofar As We Might Call It a Plan, If Having a Plan Even Matters. The cosmic irony of this will reveal itself hereafter. The first thing is our 8 April concert at King’s Chapel. We have our first proper rehearsal of the Trio this Thursday. If that may seem unusually late in the cycle, in the first place I do not deny that, and in the second, all the players will come into the rehearsal superbly prepared. The long and the short of it being that, I believe we are in good shape. The second-ish thing is my as-yet-blunted attempt to book a venue for another concert of the full quartet. I’m still hoping to confirm Option B (which the scheduling demigods have seemed to nudge to first availability) for a May date. We four shall need to powwow in order to find a summer date for Option A (a venue where we have played a few times already.)

So much for the Housekeeping, so to say.

The plan for creative work at present is: first, the Opus 199 Ossman setting, and then the Opus 197 Kirk Fantasia for the Henning Ensemble. I had made a start on the Op. 197, and some days later chipped away at it, bringing it to about three-quarters of a minute. Work on that will proceed nicely whenever I may return to it. As to the Op. 199, as soon as David gave me the go-ahead, I began to sketch the opening trombone statement. As reported here, though, I had not yet formed any idea of how the choir should participate and declaim the text. Nor had I any notion at the time, earlier today, when I set to work on this post. This afternoon, after a refreshing nap, however, a solution flashed upon my consciousness, which is either absurd insanity or simple genius. If the latter, it will be yet another piece to vindicate my “Don’t Do Something, Just Sit There” method of awaiting the Muse’s pleasure. And now, I shall set myself to settling the Insanity or Genius? Question. Watch This Space.