“I am not the man I was.”
— Ebenezer Scrooge
As evident from the recently chopped out Scenes 8 & 9, Gentle Reader, the composer is applied unto the completion, by stages, of the ballet White Nights with renewed vigor and purpose. But there is also an ease and balance in my composerly tread, as I continue this path.
For in the interval, I have (among much music else) finished both the Discreet Erasures (itself, a once-unfinished torso by the working title of Barefoot on the Crowded Road) and the First Symphony, both of them cut from the cloth of a wilder pitch-world. So, we might say, I can now let the White Nights be true to its musical inception, that there is no temptation to torque up its pitch world artificially, for the sake of that side of my musical self seeking expression in the orchestral palette. And because I have the Erasures and the Symphony to shew forth, I can be as patient as a saint with myself, and pursue the ballet on its own terms, and with sonic equanimity.
Two conductors have written to express a good impression of the Symphony, and a third has been gracious to say that he plans on looking at it closely in the near future. Considering (a) the challenges of a Nameless composer in trying to promote such a piece, and (b) the Symphony is not yet a full six months of age, this degree of engagement with respected fellow musicians is, in fact, an occasion for gratitude.
A Triad meeting tonight. Not sure yet whether this will be the season for O Gracious Light; if not, the Gloria it will be.