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.

The Chief Inspiration, Perhaps, Is Just Sound Itself

 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 cannot think that we are useless, or God would not have created us.

— Geronimo

Today I wound up the Rahsaan Roland Kirk Fantasia for recorders. I had sketched perhaps 4-6 measures immediately upon creating a distinct Sibelius file for the Opus 198. Composed the rest of it out in fairly short order early this afternoon.

What's Up

 I’ve seen smarter analyses on impulse tattoos.

Does a circus bee really “change all the time?” There had to have been a better simile.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Laws, like a spider’s web, catch the flies but let the Hawk go free.

— Spanish proverb.

Even though I set for myself the Ossman setting as a priority, I’ve busied myself with divers arrangements, and with outreach instead. I’ve asked a friend to print out the text for me. It is a while since I did any pre-compositional work on paper, but here's a case where I think I want a sheet of paper to help me visualize and sketch the musical architecture. The fact is, I haven’t yet “heard” what I want to do with the choir. So I think the page will be a good aid. Having thus pardoned myself for seeming to procrastinate on the Op. 199, I made some headway yesterday on the Op. 197 Fantasia on a Theme by Rahsaan Roland Kirk. My first thought was a Fantasia on “A Laugh for Rory” (a number which Kirk wrote and played for his infant son, and a track which my parakeet enjoys) for the Recorders, which I might then adapt for the Henning Ensemble. I immediately perceived that if I kept to that thought, it would be a piece too challenging for the recorders, and of insufficient interest for the, erm, Henningtonians (a barbarous neologism coined by Peter, but which seems to stick around.) I therefore resolved to write two distinct pieces, both based on the same Rahsaan Roland Kirk number, but each tailored to its proper group. Part of the inspiration for my approach to the Op. 197 is Hindemith’s Op. 34 String Trio. Which goes to demonstrate why the piece simply will not do for any recorder ensemble. In general, the skies seem to be opening back up. For some while in the back of my mind I’ve felt that I’ve labored to be doing more creative work, have felt that motivation and inspiration were, not absolutely avoiding me, but were not the reliable companions they had always been earlier. But I am finding this year that my experience defies that. I find that I do not lack for musical ideas. That’s it. I think I’ll just absorb that a while.

Fresh Snow

There’s no unmashing that potato, is there?
Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I did direct one episode of Night Gallery in 1972. Jack Laird, the producer, who gave me my virgin assignment on the show, offered me another one. I had to turn it down because it conflicted with an appearance in Milwaukee as "Fagin" in Oliver. Night Gallery was then canceled, and that was that.
— Leonard Nimoy, I Am Not Spock 

Recalling that my talented multi-instrumentalist friend Dan Meyers helped create the Première of From the Pit of a Cave in the Cloud, Op. 129, I reached out to see if any of my new recorder ensemble bits might be of interest. He responded positively, so off went some PDFs, including Yesterday’s Snow officially rendered as a Recorder Quartet. Separately, two organists have sent very nice messages acknowledging receipt of the Fantasy on When Jesus Wept.

I Wasn't Going to, Really

 On Wikipedia, the synopsis of Star Trek begins, “The show is set in the Milky Way galaxy,” which of course, would be equally true of Dragnet

.Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Oh, my love is so inscrutable, in a stoic sort of way.

—  Viv Stanshall

(“Let’s take a taxi to my tent.”)

As noted heretofore, as a rule I resist the urge to make multiple versions of a piece. (I mean to say, what a mess I managed to make of Things Like Bliss—a most unbliss-ful result.) In the case of the Fantasy on When Jesus Wept, though, there is a practical use in the Henning Ensemble. And now, a friend suggested a version for organ solo, which is enormously practical, with Holy Week not all that far off. So yes, there is now an Op. 162b. But That Is It!

The Unexpexted Zappa Orgy of 1Q25 Part VIII

 The importance for our times of Fred MacMurray’s character in The Caine Mutiny: he’s partly in the right (and only partly), but he’s a complete jerk.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I am constantly asked how I managed to “keep a straight face” while playing the character. In terms of actor’s craft, it was easy. I’m always amazed at the speed and deftness with which a plumber fixes a leaky faucet. That’s his craft. Mine included emotional control and manipulation. I remember one day on the Star Trek set when a group of actors were listening to a story being told by one of the group. There was a funny ending and everyone laughed. I didn’t.

An actress in the group said, “Leonard is in his Spock bag.”

I was, deeply into it and that was sometimes a problem.  I was like a pressure cooker. Plenty of emotional input, and little or no emotional release.  I was so thoroughly immersed in the character that my weekends were a gradual trip back to emotional normalcy.

— Leonard Nimoy, I Am Not Spock

Now comes the Waka/Wazoo 50^th anniversary box, smushing together Waka Jawaka (onomatopœia representing the wah-wah pedal) and Grand Wazoo (the 20-piece chamber orchestra Zappa briefly toured with in 1972, afterwards trimmed down a tad and re-christened Petite Wazoo.) What can I say about this elixir? Or, really: let me find intelligent (or intelligent-ish) things to say so that I’m no mere cheerleader. Not to denigrate cheerleaders, absolutely. I’m just past the age when that activity might be becoming. Well, I’m not sure whom I’m trying to kid. I’ve always been a fan of these two albums, so naturally, I’m enthused over the various Alternate Takes and Outtake Versions. My ears have always found it of interest how Zappa re-configured/rethought/revived “Big Swifty” in live shows (not only as documented in the You Can’t Do That on Stage Anymore series but on Make a Jazz Noise Here from the always rewarding 1988 band, so having both an Alternate Take and an Alternate Mix of “Big Swifty” is a little slice of a kind of sonic heaven. As is having a 10-minute-plus Outtake Version of “Blessed Relief.” The title track of Waka/Jawaka as released runs 11:16, so having a 13:41 Outtake Version and a 16-minute Alternate Mix (this latter including a re-inserted Moog drum solo) I find rewarding. The blu-ray disc of the newly mixed albums is a fabulous listen though I cannot comment on the 5.1 surround sound. Disc 3 opens with George Duke demos which I find of only relatively mild interest. YMMV. Genuinely essential for myself, though, is Zappa’s Record Plant mix of the Grand Wazoo playing “Approximate” in the Boston Music Hall on 24 Sep 1972. The final track of Disc 3 and all of Disc 4 are from the 15 Dec 1972 performance of the 10-piece Petite Wazoo in San Francisco’s Winterland Ballroom. This is tasty stuff. The show begins with “Little Dots,” and for fun I’ve just revisited that number’s “debut” as the titular composition of a posthumously released CD. It’s just All Good.

I’m not saying that Maestro Duke doesn’t deserve the space, and sure, I’ll listen again (Heck, I own it.) Just honestly reporting a first impression. And those demos suffer the disadvantage of leading to the grandiose chaotic opening of “Approximate.”

Well, a Bit More Weeping

 Hosiery of the Beast! Sox-soxty-sox (Apocalyptic Underthings Now)

Not to brag, but today I received a prize premium microfiber cloth.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Remember: Success is a journey, not a destination. Have faith in your ability. You will do just fine.

— Bruce Lee

Well, since we’re working as a trio this time at King’s Chapel, I felt justified in arranging the Fantasy on When Jesus Wept for piccolo, alto flute and clarinet. Thus, the Op. 162a.

@karl-henning-1

Poised to Retreat, Finished Weeping

 “Darning his socks in the night when there’s nobody there …”

What, he’s supposed to darn his socks when he has guests over for tea?

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

If you are not a better person tomorrow than you are today, what need do you have for a tomorrow?

— Rebbe Nachman of Breslov

The big news yesterday is that Mr David Ossman of the Firesign Theatre gave me permission to set a (non-comic, BTW) poem, “Retreat” to music. I had been in touch with my friend and colleague, Triad alumnus, Julian Bryson, who responded warmly to the proposed collaboration. I told Julian I was thinking of writing a piece for choir and single-line instrument and I asked what instrument would work best for him.  We decided on trombone. Last night I began sketching the opening trombone statement.

I saw Greta and Josh this morning. They had read the music I sent them, and like the pieces. I wrote a new piece for them this afternoon based on Wm Billlings’ When Jesus Wept. It will be something for Holy Week. Separately, I decided that some of my Opus numbers which have been catch-alls for little pieces written for Danvers, I can reassign to more substantial and/or more disseminable pieces. Thus, I have designated this piece Opus 162.

@karl-henning-1

More Amorphous

 On the face of it, “Have you ever seen the rain?” may be one of pop music’s most peculiar questions ever.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

“Yes,” said Bill. “New York. I know that, because he sent word home that it brought Old York to his mind, quite vivid, in consequence of being so exactly unlike it in every respect.”

— Dickens, Martin Chuzzlewit

I have practically taken an oath to restrict re-scoring activities to an As Actually Needed by Actual Musicians for an Actual Performance basis. That said, I now know a couple of people who play in a recorder ensemble, so one of three pieces I have just adapted is Amorphous and Forward-Looking for two recorders and bassoon. Op. 196a.

@karl-henning-1

The Search for Not Spock

“Wine is technically a juice.” You read any- and everything on the Internet.

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

The universe is winding down—why shouldn't we?

— Woody Allen, Whatever Works

I forget just when or just how I learnt of Leonard Nimoy’s early memoir, I Am Not Spock, but I’ve certainly been keenly curious to read it, at the latest since watching Star Trek on Blu-ray. Trying to hunt the book down, my experience was that the results presented to me were invariably the sequel, I Am Spock. Yes, I wanted to read the later book, too, but, well, where possible I like to take these things in order. I did find a very good used hardcover copy of the later book for ca. $5, and while I waited for that to come in the mail, I rang my friendly local librarian. Librarians are some of my favorite people. The Library has a nice website and generally speaking it’s possible to search the catalogue there, but I appear to have a penchant for wanting items for which I do not succeed in searching online. Thus, I asked my librarian for I Am Not Spock. She also, in her search, found the sequel and indeed I had to assure her that there really is/was a book of the title I had specified. She expanded her search (in ways unavailable to us laity) and she found a copy to borrow from a certain network of libraries. The copy which I have had the privilege to read was—well, frail would be overstating its condition. Let’s call it well-read. I have lately finished reading the book. Indeed, I’ve just this hour returned it to the Library. Now, I did enjoy the reading. Very much. But I don’t need to pay $50 to own a used “acceptable” copy. So the adventure has been a thorough success.

Crazy in a (Smaller) Bottle

His attention span is so brief, it’s really an attention pinch.
Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

... and it was at this moment, that he remembered an ancient Eskimo legend ....
— Frank Zappa

In December, as reported here, I wrote Crazy in a Bottle, Op. 194 for a Call for Scores by the Low Blow Ensemble. Pleased with that piece, I chopped out a brass fanfare for a twin Call for brass ensemble pieces: Lord of the Things, Op. 195. The Fickle Finger of Fate turned down Crazy but selected Lord. That stroke of apparent good fortune notwithstanding, the performance of Lord of the Things fell through. Ah, well. This week I saw another call for Bass Clarinet scores, in this case for a maximum of eight bass clarinets. I streamlined the Crazy, shedding the Basset Horn, Alto Clarinet, Contralto and Contrabass Clarinets, reassigning material where needed. And thus has been born the Op. 194a. I shall now proof parts and submit ... and ... we shall see.

@karl-henning-1

Random Remarks from Recent Listening

Having that swing, it meaneth much. When leprechauns drop acid, do they think they see people?

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions) 

Violence does not spring from a vacuum. It’s born out of other men’s violence. It gets nurtured and it grows in a soil of prejudice and of hate and of bigotry.

 — Rod Serling

 I haven’t listened to Schnittke’s First Symphony since before my stroke. I hadn’t forgotten the fact that the piece is one hell of a wild ride, but I’d forgotten some of the stops on the trip. I certainly never before recognized the quotation from “Papa’s” “Farewell” Symphony. The symphony is one possible result if Mahler had been alive in 1969 and dropped acid.

Franck is a relatively recently acquired enthusiasm which I have not yet reported on the blog. The Great Performances (I remember buying a few LPs in that series back when) reissue of Leon Fleisher playing the Symphonic Variations, the Rakhmaninov Paganini Rhapsody and Ravel’s Alborada del gracioso was a gift from my friend Dan.

Another such gift was a disc of André Previn and bassist David Finck playing Gershwin. I am surprised neither by the programming nor by the excellence of the performance, only that the disc was issued by Deutsche Grammophon.

Another surprising enthusiasm which blind-sided me has been Rimsky-Korsakov’s Antar, which really ought to be as widely played as Scheherazade.

The odd flashes of musical wit in the soundtracks of Escape from Planet of the Apes and Conquest of Planet of the Apes have been no small part of the enjoyment of finally getting around to watching those old movies.

Just Some Idle Musings, Really

 Because we abhor hyperbole: 85% Satisfaction Guaranteed!

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

...where it’s a fact that folks need help, but God still seems to be helping those who take a big helping for themselves....

— The late, great Peter Bergman of The Firesign Theatre.

In general, I’m writing much less than earlier, and I wonder about that at odd times. Before my stroke, I wrote constantly, often working on more than one project at a time. And when I was first discharged from rehab, I wrapped up the Opus 148 Symphony for Band, and even that long-delayed project my ballet White Nights. Now, I just don’t write a great deal, and at times feel a disconcertingly low level of what appears to remain of motivation. I have seldom (or even never) been genuinely depressed at the state of affairs. Let’s say that I’ve vacillated between a mild background dissatisfaction and a near-contentment to wait upon the Muse. I should like (and believe I may be close) to remain at a genuine contentment per that latter pole. I have come to understand on more than one level that in the first place, comparison to my life before the stroke is invalid because my stamina level simply is not what it was. And in the second, comparison to the period immediately after my discharge is invalid because by that time my musical brain had been champing at the bit for a couple of months. I think at times of how little attention I dedicate to O singer, bashful and tender, I hear your tender notes, and yet, there is no need to press forward with it, as no one needs it. I mean that completely neutrally, with none of the undercurrent snark of which I cannot plead complete innocence in the past. But against that let us set The Orpheus of Lowell, which I succeeded in chopping out very efficiently, and which is (I believe) a significant musical success. So, let me chill, therefore.

@karl-henning-1

Coming to King’s 8 April

 I’ll say this about auto-correct: It errs on the side of cozy... Failing to recognize “motets,” it gave me mittens.
And it made “Introitus” nutritious.
Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I am not Spock.

But given the choice, if I had to be someone else, I’d be Spock. If someone said, “You can have the choice of being any other TV character ever played,” I would choose Spock. I like him. I admire him. I respect him.

If someone could wave a magic wand and make him go away, disappear forever, I wouldn’t let them do it. I would choose to keep him alive. I don’’t really have that choice. He’ll be around anyway. But if I had that choice I would keep him alive. He stands for something that makes me feel good. Dignity and honesty and a lot more. And whatever of that rubs off on me makes me feel good.

But, I am not Spock.

— Leonard Nimoy, I Am Not Spock

Hooch at the Hop?

Music for the un-Hip Hop, Op. 178 (two flutes)
Yesterday's Snow, Op. 160a (two C flutes and Bass Clarinet)
Surfing an Earthquake, Op. 190 (three flutes)
Snootful of Hooch, Op. 159b (C flute, Alto Flute and B-flat Clarinet)
Amorphous and Forward-Looking, Op. 196 (C flute, Alto Flute and Bass Clarinet)

Peter H Bloom, flute and alto flute
Carol Epple, flute and piccolo
Dan Zupan, alto saxophone and bass clarinet
Dave Zox, double bass

The Unexpexted Zappa Orgy of 1Q25 Part VII

 Can I eat a decorative gourd? I want to be beautiful inside.Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Genius may have its limitations, but stupidity is not thus handicapped.— Elbert Hubbard

This is a revisitation. Back when there was a Newbury Comics near Boston’s Old State House, at what I want to say was called the Washington Mall (basically a few storefronts on a brick-paved walkway between Washington Street and City Hall) I do declare there were times when I logged some impulse purchases there. One of these was Zappa’s Civilization Phaze III. I must have listened to it once, neither hated nor adored it, made a non-urgent mental note that I would revisit it sometime ... and years passed. The thought that occurs to me today, before once again slipping the CDs into the tray, is that back when Lumpy Gravy and We’re Only In It For the Money were originally released, printed on the album covers were the legends, “Is this phase two of We’re Only In It For the Money” and “Is this phase one of Lumpy Gravy,” respectively. “Is that one source of Phaze III?” I didn’t even see the rhetorical question coming, Officer. As I listen to this on repeat-ish this year, it’s rather growing on me: the characteristically freewheeling invention in the Synclavier music (both the composition qua composition and the use of timbre) the resuscitation of the “Piano People,” and new “Piano People” in the 90’s. The additional material of the original “Piano People” (redeemed from tape which sat in the archives lo! these long years does not always rise above mildly interesting (a very little of “Louis the Turkeys ” explosive and non-dulcet laughter goes a loooong way.) and I may at times find myself wondering if I care about the musings of the latter-day “Piano People,” but that is ultimately a minor quibble for me, and I find the “recapitulation” of some of the old “Piano People” dialogue which had appeared on Lumpy Gravy somewhat amusing. The 18-minute “N-Lite” concluding the first disc is kind of a “Shut Up And Play Yer Guitar” event. It is a rewarding listen, albeit requiring (what is becoming a rarer faculty in our “aggressively online” era) focused attention. Would “N-Lite” fall easier upon the ear (he queried both rhetorically and wildly speculatively) if it were realized by human musicians? Perhaps, but in the first place there are timbres here produced by the Synclavier which “genuine instruments” might only simulate. And in the second, the Synclavier was something of a dream come true for Zappa, who struggled over the years to get orchestras to play his considerably demanding and complicated scores with musical justice and accuracy. And so, when Zappa had found and learnt how to utilize this tool, he could compose “large ensemble” music without regard for what was strictly humanly possible. This is, we should say, one of the joys of this release.

Overall, and this verges on stating the obvious, since Lumpy Gravy runs for one-quarter the duration of Civ. Ph. III, the latter is not so “casually consumable” as the older ballet. I do not consider the raw fact of that comparison itself any flaw of the later release. And, harp-like timbres in “Pigs With Wings?” Who says Zappa was incapable of delicate wit?

It is emblematic of the care Zappa lavished on this release that he provides not only a scenario but a complete transcript of the album. Personally, I don’t take the scenario quite seriously, but I applaud and respect Zappa’s giving the auditor that option (in the spirit of “optional entertainment.”) Can I let the 90’s “Piano People” into the tent? (I mean, into the piano) Yeah, sure I can.

’s

Hopping Proper at Last

 My new favorite part of 1934’s The Man Who Knew Too Much? Just before the conductor gives the big opening downbeat, a bloke in the Albert Hall audience coughs. Bless Hitch for his realism!

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want, and deserve to get it good and hard.

— H. L. Mencken

In July of 2023, I first composed Music for the Un-Hip Hop, Op. 178. However, yesterday it grievously yet altogether rightly came to my belated attention that the page turns for both flutists were utterly verkakte, to employ the musically correct term. Did I know this in 2023, and “simply assumed” that the players would read from the score? (as if turning pages would somehow not be an issue in that case.) Whatever the insufficient case might be, I cleaned things up so that both flutists have manageable page turns. This process involved the insertion of some material here and there, so the piece is both brand-new, and yet much the same.

@karl-henning-1

Bringing on the Amorphous, Altering the Hooch

Holding your supplemental hymnal while the neighbors decide,
Why is a vegetable something to hide?

Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I like being Spock. But I like myself too. I'd like to be me independent of him. I try—very hard, but it's tough. Sometimes I think I've done it. Sometimes I work very hard at doing my things, thinking my own thoughts. To be me, Leonard Nimoy. Sometimes I think I've got it made! Then I'll get on an airplane and somebody'll flash me a Vulcan salute. Or some nice lady will ask for my autograph and I'll proudly sign, "Leonard Nimoy," and then she'll say, "please sign Mr Spock. That's the way my son knows you.

— Leonard Nimoy, I Am Not Spock

Pursuant to the need  expressed here, to have more lower voice and/or timbres other than C Flute for the April King’s Chapel concert, not only have I composed Amorphous and Forward-Looking, Op. 196, but I swapped a B-flat Clarinet for one of the C Flutes in Snootful of Hooch (that means Op. 159b) We did not read either piece at today’s Henning Ensemble rehearsal, as we had the full quartet. We therefore read both Alan Westby’s revised Quiet Girl and my Dark Side of the Sun. We also came up with some dates, so let's see if we can ink in another concert.

@karl-henning-1