Taking My Time

The Probability Space Force and the Martian of Error
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Now, I’ve had enough, my box is clean.
You know what I’m sayin’ and you know what I mean.
From now on, you’d best get on someone else;
While you’re doin’ it, keep that juice to yourself.
— Bob Dylan, “Odds and Ends”

As noted erewhile, the Op. 197 Rahsaan Roland Kirk Fantasia originated in my musical brain’s interstices while the track “A Laugh for Rory” was in heavy rotation because I learnt that our parakeet especially enjoyed it. It is a score of which I remain intensely proud, and I knew directly after last year’s successful première that I wanted to reprise it this year. It is a sufficiently complicated and challenging piece for the band that (if I may be forgiven the seeming immodesty of such a comparison) like Stravinsky's Le sacre du printemps, it will wax ever better with repetition. I should therefore like to keep it in our repertory for next year (and hopefully we shall get a video document then) because there will be an interval long enow that it will not be tedious for our audience. I just need to check with the band to make sure they don’t flirt with ennui.

But I have already gotten ahead of myself. In the wake of the successful première of the Opus 197, as I believe has also been noted afore on the blog, the next piece I conceived for the full ensemble was to be a score designedly easier (far easier) to prepare, and thus was born the Op. 205 Simple Music. Last year we were able to program two concerts with the full (or practically full) Ensemble. I originally hoped for two such 2026 concerts. I feel highly fortunate (albeit my personal obstinacy was a factor) that despite months of uncertainty, we did ultimately present the 28 October program at the Library, both reprising the Op. 197 and premiering the Op. 205. I want to compose the next new piece for the full band. Still allowing ideas to flit through and potentially form, like musical coral polyps. Watch This Space.

Up-Cycling Danvers-Era Material? And Others

 In a parallel universe, the second surveyor’s name was Richardson; and the lands south of the Mason-Richardson Line were known colloquially as “Richardsie.”
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

If ever I have deserved (which has not often been the case, and, I think, never), but if ever I did deserve to be soundly cuffed by a fellow mortal, for secretly putting weight upon some imaginary social advantage, it must have been while I was striving to prove myself ostentatiously his equal and no more. It was while I sat beside him on his cobbler’s bench, or clinked my hoe against his own in the cornfield, or broke the same crust of bread, my earth-grimed hand to his, at our noontide lunch.
— Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Blithedale Romance

It was a musically busy week: Henning Ensemble rehearsal Monday, Henning Ensemble concert Wednesday, went to Bedford to hear an excellent concert on the Middlesex Community College World of Music series on Friday, sang in the anthem at Hope Lutheran Church Sunday morning, and that afternoon went to North Andover for a wonderful Seven Times Salt concert. HTUMC has been on my mental periphery, as this past Friday was the funeral for one of my most loyal choristers, Jean Ebb. Friday is Physical Therapy day for me, so I could not attend. After Sunday’s service at Hope Lutheran Church, talking with Music Director Paul Carlson, it crossed my mind that I have a sizeable portfolio of Gebrauchsmusik-vibing arrangements from my tenure in Danvers, and that some of these might be found useful and appealing for the Hope choir.

Furthermore, when Dan Meyers and I caught up after the STS concert, he mentioned that he is now working at an Episcopal parish, so I thought along similar lines, plus deciding to send Dan the Nunc dimittis, Op. 87 № 9 and the Kyrie, Op. 106 № 1. And because I’ve also been meaning to send Ed Broms No One Has Time for Anything But Life ... I sent the Nunc and Kyrie to Ed, as well. One never knows, do one?

Bloggiversary XVIII

 One headline I am never reading aloud:
“Astronomers Found Something Cold and Wet Near Uranus.”
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

In spite of this excellent start, little of importance happened in Egypt until the Third Dynasty, when Imhotep the Wise, architect and chief minister to King Zoser, invented the pyramid, a new kind of huge royal tomb built of stone and guaranteed to protect the body of the Pharaoh and a large amount of his property against disturbance for all time. That is to say, Imhotep the Wise originated the idea of concealing the royal corpse and his treasure in a monument so conspicuous that it could not possibly be missed by body snatchers and other thieves. Of course, the pyramids were always robbed of their entire contents, but the Pharaohs went right on building them for several centuries before they noticed the catch in this way of hiding things.
— Will Cuppy, The Decline and Fall of Practically Everybody

Well, here we are 18 years and 1700 or so posts later. How did this even happen? How is it happening still?

Le Son du Milieu

 The code of the kosher witches:
Do no ham.
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

I think the lesson is less about how to cure a creative block than about the value of changing the conditions in which you are trying to create. Sometimes the change may not be the one you expected, but that does not mean that nothing has changed.
— Luke Ottevanger

My friend Luke Ottevanger’s book, The Sound of the Place is now out! I’m still waiting for my copy, but there is a lovely long-form interview here.

The Livestream That Wasn't

Is mayhem ever obligatory, and does it thereby become musthem?
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

"We all sat down [...] and looked at one another in a friendly but rather awkward way. It was the first practical trial of our theories of equal brotherhood and sisterhood; and we people of superior cultivation (for as such, I presume, we unhesitatingly reckoned ourselves) felt as if something were already accomplished towards the millennium of love. The truth is, however, that the laboring oar was with our unpolished companions; it being far easier to condescend than to accept of condescension.
— Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Blithedale Romance

Firstly and overarchingly importantly, the concert last night went smashingly and I brim with gratitude to/for my colleagues, and my happiness for the artistic endeavor is complete.

Unlike last year, it was not possible for the Library to stream the event. This is mere reportage of a fact, and in no way a complaint. The Library have continued to be a princely host and a warmly appreciated support.

My thought for a Plan B was to livestream on my own YouTube channel. I have never done so, so I knew there were imponderables. I knew there were things I did not know and I knew I did not even know what it was that I did not know. In brief, the only thing I succeeded in doing was to create the event on my channel, on my laptop. I did not know how I should fare, trying to launch the event from the YouTube app on my phone.

The good souls at the Library found a tripod and we succeeded in mounting my phone on the tripod. So far, still so hopeful.

However neither R. nor I could discern how the event might be set in motion. Alongside came J. who found guidelines for livestreaming via the mobile app, and my account simply does not qualify for that activity. For only one thing, it appears that an account must have 50 subscribers and by that criterion alone luck is just what I was out of.

We learnt all of this on the fly right at about the time the concert was to begin. If that sounds stressful, well maybe it was, maybe it was not. I owe hearty thanks to both R. & J. who were patient and actively helpful. Bottom line: enormously happy with how the concert went. Everything went as well as ever it did. I have good reason to be especially pleased with the Rahsaan Roland Kirk Fantasia. I was unusually well rested, which must have helped greatly. The pre-concert kerfuffle of figuring out at the eleventh hour that there would be no live stream notwithstanding, I was relaxed and centered. I felt an unusual degree of confidence, and that sympathetically flowed out to the band, meseemed.

 

Nearing Concert Time

 No pop singer but Billy Joel would sing, “I have been a fool for lesser things.” To be clear, I think that is to his credit.
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

It is well that war is so terrible; we should grow too fond of it.
— Robert E. Lee

Our concert at the Woburn Public Library is Wednesday, and our dress rehearsal is tomorrow. We shall be ready.

Opus 213 Done

 When we drive through Middleton, I half-wonder if we've somehow missed either Beginnington or Endington.
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

True ignorance is not the absence of knowledge, but the refusal to acquire it.
— Karl Popper

Smooth is not how the course of the Opus 213 ran. Just reporting, not complaining.  Illusions I Can Live With began life at a time when I was expecting that we should have only Carol & Peter for the 1 December King’s Chapel concert. As of September the 7th, the score ran to 40 measures and less than two minutes of music. At that point, the piece waited (first) upon organizational work for the Library concert, and then sat tight while I composed the 16 little pieces comprising the Opp. 211 & 214. None of these considerations was any absolute impediment to work on Illusions, but the subtextual fact was that although I had set down notes which I liked, I had not yet found a sense of direction for the piece. In fact, although not in the back of my mind, but indeed in the shade of my mind’s forefront, the question, whether I ought to just start afresh was long a low-impact nag.

But then, to my delight, Dan Zupan is ready to be restored to the Active roster, and the obvious musical solution was to make the piece a trio. To the point of “although I had set down notes which I liked,” above, every single note in the 7 September score remained untouched whille I gleefully added the bass clarinet. And poof! the Opus 213 is complete.

Opus 214 Done

 This might be a commuter train. Or, it might be an e-reader showroom.
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Mortimer lighted the candles. They showed the the visitor to be an ill-looking visitor with a squinting leer, who, as he spoke, fumbled at an old sodden fur cap, formless and mangey, that looked like a furry animal, dog or cat, puppy or kitten, drowned and decaying.
— Dickens, Our Mutual Friend

The project was even more a caprice than the Opus 211 Simple Preludes, and unlike the latter I intended a set of ten from the outset. Did I need a goal? Dunno, but I set one. the Ten Inconsequentialities for Toy Piano are dedicated to my friend and colleague Olivia Kieffer who has graciously expressed enthusiasm for the pieces.

The set consists of:

i. artifice
ii. brouhaha
iii. change
iv. detritus
v. ego
vi. fandom
vii. glitz
viii. hindsight
ix. immateriality
x. jurisprudence

Further Inconsequentialities

 To paraphrase Twain: “I only want to interest the listener, he can go elsewhere for profit & instruction.”
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

You can’t calm the storm, so stop trying. What you can do is calm yourself. The storm will pass.
— Buddha

Since my last report, I have composed four more Inconsequentialities. Three to go, Progress has not strictly been one daily, but then, I was unconcerned with progress, per se, so we consider the mission intact. Two more rehearsals before the Henning Ensemble program at the Library.

Chuffing Along

 Yes, I think I can tell a green field from a cold steel rail.

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Now don’t crowd me lady or I’ll fill up your shoe, I am a sweet bourbon daddy and tonight I am blue.

— Bob Dylan

I noted here that I might set the text No One Has Time for Anything But Life for unaccompanied choir and so I did, and thus was born the Opus 215. Triad alumnus Julian Bryson has responded positively. And another fellow composer writes: Looking at the score, what a delightful economy of means to make your musical and spiritual point.

Excellent Henning Ensemble rehearsal yesterday, another tomorrow.

Five Years Ago Today

 Euphoria in Peoria?

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

The trick is, not to get killed. That’s really the key to the benefit program.

— Peter Falk in The In-Laws

Remembering with great pleasure the commemorative launch of the Kerouac Centenary

Accumulating Inconsequentialities

 Seen on Twitter:
My husband purchased a world map and then gave me a dart and said, “Throw this and wherever it lands—that’s where I’m taking you when this pandemic ends.”
Turns out, we’re spending two weeks behind the fridge.
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

If you need drugs to be a good writer, you are not a good writer.
— Rod Serling

I’ve now composed the three last (id est, numbers 8-10) of the Op. 214 Inconsequentialities for toy piano. My loose plan is one day. We shall see.

Jayaprakash Satyamurthy (author of the tender text I set for When, has a new chapbook coming out soon, No One Has Time for Anything But Life. Some of my recreational listening (suggested by my friend Luke Ottevanger) has been Medieval and Renaissance choral music. It has been a while since I’ve composed for choir (no longer having one I work with) but having that sound in my ear, and knowing former Triad colleagues who have choirs they work with, the back of my musical mind has been angling towards setting JP’s title. Today we had an excellent Henning Ensemble rehearsal in which we heavily workshopped the Rahsaan Roland Kirk Fantasia. So I’ve just begun tinkering with this notion.

@karl-henning-1

First (Last) Inconsequentiality

 Seen on Threads:
Me, to my 8yo: “Did you eat that cookie after I clearly said not to??”
8yo: “Look, I am focused on the future...”
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

I’m goin’ back to New York City, I do believe I’ve had enough.
— Bob Dylan

Day before yesterday, I chopped out the first of the projected ten Inconsequentialities.

@karl-henning-1

Opus 211 Post Mortem

 Improper use may cause hazardous condition
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

I don’t knock my country for what it is — I knock it because I share the dream of so many of us as to what it can be.
— Rod Serling 1970

While listening to Louis Couperin, I learnt what I wanted to do for Simple Prelude № 6. Also, I have learnt that I am happy to leave the Opus 211 as a set of six.

I was unsure just what to write, or even if I wanted to write anything. My friend Luke obliquely inspired me to just noodle at the piano. Of course, I am not literally “at the piano.” I do not own one, and my left hand is not yet fit again for noodling. I decided to write them for my friend Carolyn Ray, without leave and certainly uninvited, and this was another reason to keep the pieces simple, for although she is of course a proper pianist, I should have no business writing an uninvited ambitious piece of music which would be an imposition of time and effort.

So there they are: six slight pieces.

I dreamt last night that I was talking to someone about a set of pieces I was proud to have written. this miasmic set seemed to mirror the Op. 211, only it was a set of ten pieces, all of which had actual titles. (The Simple Preludes have only tempo designations.)

So, I have decided to write a set of ten short pieces for toy piano, Ten Inconsequentialities.

Well-Begun Is Half Done

Postcards from Dreamland: I was explaining to someone the difference between Patrick McGoohan and Patrick Macnee. Also, my wife selected a cologne for me with a very nice scent and in a distinctive purple bottle. The name of the cologne was the peculiarly monarchic, and not-at-all-masculine ER XIII, and Macnee was its celebrity spokesman.

What’s cheese for the mouse is a snack for the rat!
— Philip Proctor as Hemlock Stones in The Tale of the Giant Rat of Sumatra

Excellent rehearsal Monday (was that only yesterday?) of the Henning Ensemble. First run-through of the Magnificat, also of the expanded One for Ahmad. Refreshers of the Cape of Good Nope, Simple Music and the Rahsaan Roland Kirk Fantasia. Some tightening-up still needed but in very good shape a month before the concert date.

Preparation

I know it would have been a distraction from plot development, so I’m not proposing any change to the movie, but am I the only one to wonder, on seeing the self-driving cars in Minority Report, if they still run on gasoline?
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

The readiness is all.

— Hamlet

Sixteen years ago this past Friday: 18 Sep 2010 Just booked my flight to Rochester for the première of the Viola Sonata opus 102.

There have been non-musical activities enough that there has been no brooding, as such, but there is no denying that the months following the April King’s Chapel concert have shown me my limitations as a forecaster of what I might expect. That said, while the process of getting from A to B was mostly an experience of bewilderment, in terms of Henningmusick, at least, the program we are putting together for 28 October is just what I wished. I am not pleased that circumstances forced me to disappoint fellow composers who have furnished pieces whose performance I feel we have to delay, and I wish we might have found a second date on which to repeat the program, mais c'est la vie.

The most important facts, for which I have ample occasion to be grateful are firstly, that I enjoy the privilege of working with excellent colleagues who are unfailingly enormously supportive. And secondly, that the Woburn Public Library is so welcoming to our making music in their beautiful space.

First rehearsal tomorrow. I mean, not absolutely the first rehearsal, as we've read a couple og the pieces a vew months ago, but it’s the first of our freshly linked tranche of rehearsals now that we have a firm concert date.

Program for 28 October

One of the most poignant things about watching Independence Day is: the Towers yet stood.
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I’m sorry, I did not create the Cosmos, I merely explain it.
— Mel Ferrer, in A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy

For one reason or another, uncertainty has hung over this projected concert for so long, that I devised no fewer than three possible programs. No matter: now that we are officially a quintet for the Library, the program will fulfill my two key wishes: a reprise of the Op. 197 Fantasia on a Theme by Rahsaan Roland Kirk, and the première of Simple Music, the piece I specifically composed for this season. Given our Dan’s sabbatical, it was necessary (but not at all difficult) to modify the scoring.

Music, Simple and Otherwise

Karl Henning (1960) Magnificat a 4 (2006) Full Ensemble (3:30)
Frank Warren (1950) Three Notions of Love & Ruin, Op. 50 (2025) Alto Flute & Bassoon (4:00)
Henning, Simple Music, Op. 205a Full Ensemble (première) (10:00)
Dennis Báthory-Kitsz (1949) Just Another Love Song (2025) C Flute, Alto Flute & Bassoon (4:00)
Warren, Passacalyawhatever, Op. 116 (première) C Flute, Alto Flute & Bassoon (6:00)
Henning, One for Ahmad, Op. 208b C Flute, Full Ensemble (première) (4:00)
Henning Cape of Good Nope, Op. 206 Full Ensemble (première) (6:00)
Henning Fantasia on a Theme by Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Op. 197a (2025) Full Ensemble (8:30)
Total Duration: 46:00

Peter H Bloom, C Flute, Alto Flute
Todd Brunel, Soprano Clarinet, Bass Clarinet
Carol Epple, C Flute
Greta Rosen, Bassoon
Dave Zox, Double-Bass

 

Somewhat More for Ahmad

 From my Google search history:
Is there a trick to grating ginger?
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

We’re developing a new citizenry. One that will be very selective about cereals and automobiles, but won’t be able to think.
— Rod Serling

I composed One for Ahmad back in the Thinking Threesome days, but that was actually my second go at the piece. I originally thought about a piece for the full ensemble. Now that we are a quintet for the 28 Oct concert at the Library, I have added two voices to the piece; in a way, a return to the original conception.

On Two Simples

 The Schnook, the Creep, His Spite and Her Mother
— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

“In the meantime, sir,” said Mr Chillip, “they are much disliked; and as they are very free in consigning everybody who dislikes them to Perdition, we really have a good deal of Perdition going on in our neighborhood!”
— Dickens, David Copperfield

A day or so ago I pretty much chopped out (the music having in large part taken shape in my head) the fourth Opus 211 Simple Prelude.

To my delight, it looks like Dave will be available for our 28 October concert. So now, I wonders, how easily will Simple Music “reduce” to quintet?...

@karl-henning-1

Bringing On the Unease

 “Microwave for three minutes?”
I can’t wave that small for such a long time.
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Tonality and modality are no more than words in a dictionary. They are of practical use but by no means indispensable. If you look at history, you’ll see that after birdsong, which imitated rain, the oceans and the noise of storms, people began to sing in octaves and fifths, according to the natural distribution of voices; then came modes — pentatonic modes from China, diatonic ones from Greece and chromatic ones from India. This modal language was used for centuries, because tonality as such didn’t emerge until Bach’s day, when it was merged with a highly modal and chromatic language. Before him, Monteverdi and Gesualdo were highly chromatic, just as Mozart was after him. If you like, tonality proper has existed for only two centuries, and Beethoven strikes me as the only composer who is frankly tonal. With Chopin and even more with Debussy, this famous tonality becomes veiled once again. Beyond these concepts, the only phenomenon inherent to the world of sound and which composers have to take into account is resonance.
— Olivier Messiaen, from an interview with Jean-Christophe Marti, January 1992

A collaboration which was years in the waiting: my colleague and friend, the most excellent guitarist Aaron Larget-Caplan, has created the première of Uneasy Sleep, Op. 203, and the composer could not possibly be better pleased.

A young couple and their energetic little girl were seated on the bench in front of me, and as I intended recording video on my phone, I thought with mildly amused pleasure what fun it would be if the child vocalised during my piece, which would be in accord with Aaron’s earlier remarks on John Cage. However, the mother had the most considerate thought of taking her daughter to the front of the club to forestall any disturbance (though as I say, I should not have considered myself or my piece disturbed.

Lesser or Even Least Works

 Seen on the Internet: You do not need a parachute to skydive. You need a parachute to skydive twice.
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.
— Stephen Jay Gould

Today I finished the third of the Op. 211 Simple Preludes. I had to start over twice, until I reminded myself that my rubric for these pieces is: If I don’t know where the material wants to go, it’s probably not simple enough. I cast bot hands on treble clef, as my intention at the outset was to borrow material for the C Flute/Alto Flute duet, Illusions I Can Live With. How many Simple Preludes will I wind up writing? Not sure. Maybe I stop at three? We shall see.

A Date

 From almost nothing, vast somethings arise.
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Whenever you write, whatever you write, never make the mistake of assuming the audience is any less intelligent than you are.
— Rod Serling

If I accomplished nothing else musical this week (and I don’t believe I did) we have a date for a concert at the Woburn Public Library: Wednesday, 28 October.

Don’t ask me yet whether we’ll be a quartet or quintet ... Watch This Space

Thinking Threesome

 The Eleventh Elephant

Nomad fandom

Gigolo kimono.

Protean turpentine

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

Throughout everything you write there’s a shadow of your own life.
— Richard Matheson

The next Henning Ensemble event today remains something of a question-mark. Indeed, my original intent wuth this post was to list a potential program for 18 September. But the late-breaking news is that we need to find another date. So let me put this post to bed, with that.

Insomnia Endgame

 “Some guys do nothing but complain,” he sang, complaining....

— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

There are grounds for believing that the human brain is somewhat smaller than it was 25,000 years ago and I, personally, fear that the Gorilla brain is increasing in size and weight. But let’s not cross that bridge till we come to it. For the present we are certainly brainier than the Gorilla, and the Gorilla seems to know it. You never hear of a Gorilla attempting mental feats for which he is totally unfitted by physiological limitations, the way some other animals do. Thus the Gorilla seldom makes a complete and utter idiot of himself, as Marmosets do so frequently.
— Will Cuppy, How to Become Extinct

I made a start on the duet for bass clarinet and bassoon, Harmonious Insomnia on Monday the 17th. I planned on a five-minute piece, and on incorporating one of the Simple Preludes. The “adoption” of the first Simple Prelude into Insomnia was (could be) no mere copy-and-paste operation. For one thing, there are harmonic intervals in the piano original which defied simple copying onto two single-line instruments. Finding the musical solution was of course an artistic asset. The important thing is that the overall simplicity was incorporated most gratifyingly. And the alternation of the Common Time and quintuple meter provides (with corresponding simplicity) sufficient rhythmic variety. We also have the contrast between the “white-key” simplicity of the adapted Prelude and the mildly sinuous chromaticism of the new Insomnia material. All that was needed, then was the usual dynamics and rehearsal letters, and the piece was complete on Wednesday the 19th. And I arranged the piece for violin and viola with a friend in mind.

Then and Today

 Trousered Wilderness? Panted Desert

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

The nonmusical inheritance from my father had been, with wise counsel of trusted friends, invested in War Bonds, a move more patriotic than prudent. In 1918 with the war lost, we had nothing except the modest salary of my aunt, a clerk in an insurance company, who shared what she made with us. Later on the impoverished Austrian Republic granted a small monthly payment to my mother, which terminated when she left for the United States.
Soon after the Armistice in November 1918 we got the first shipment of food parcels from the United States. We queued on a very cold afternoon for some hours in front of a beautiful baroque palais, eventually receiving a splendid basket of food, with A large tin of corned beef the outstanding item. Meat had been more than scarce and that same evening the four of us did away with the contents of the tin can. It was such an overdose after a long dearth that none of us ever could face corned beef again.
— Erich Leinsdorf, Cadenza: A Musical Life

Eight years ago today (and for those keeping track: yes, prior to my stroke) I had the great pleasure of attending the second performance, down Florida way, of my Opus 116, Plotting (y is the new x) for violin and harpsichord. A most thoroughly gratifying occasion. Today, eight years since, I am delighted to have completed my Opus 212: Harmonious Insomnia for bass clarinet and bassoon, composed for my friends Todd Brunel and Greta Rosen.

Oh, and a Couple of Arrangements

 A headline on YouTube:

“You’ve been rolling your yoga mat the wrong way.”

— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

One of the interesting things about Bond is, that he’s just as bad as they are ... the real sense of distaste for who he is, what he is, because he’s old enough to recognize himself.

— Timothy Dalton

Something I meant to add yesterday ... enlarging, as it were, on the Trifles theme is that one artistic response to Greta & Todd reading duets of mine was to arrange Three Things That Begin With ‘C,’ Op.65 for clarinet and bassoon, and All the Birds in Mondrian’s Cage, Op. 97 № 2 for bass clarinet and bassoon.

More Mere Trifles

 And two years ago today, in “I didn’t even see the irony, Officer, honest!”

Watch 1,000 Musicians Play Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall (Part Two)”

— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

Now, in November 1967, numb with chronic fatigue, I discovered that the spirit of competition may be the needed philosophical foundation for a free-market economy, but for the individual human being the urge to be overly active is, at best, a delusion and at worst a psychological illness. Since I knew myself to be afflicted by it, this was now the time to overhaul my life. As I struggled with the decisions how to do this and that, As I sat up late at night rummaging in the recesses of my mind, I recalled scenes that were filed away but never forgotten.

There was the illness and the death of [Dimitri] Mitropoulos. After finishing one grueling eight-week stint with the New York Philharmonic, he had a heart attack and landed in hospital within two days of the final concert. Having little else to live for he returned too soon to the orchestra and to the Met, for the inevitable second attack and further hospitalization. As if on a suicidal mission he undertook in 1960 to prepare the Third Mahler Symphony with the orchestra of Milan’s La Scala and died during a rehearsal, Perhaps through shock from the proverbial chaotic conditions of Italy’s musical world.

There are always romantic tail spinners who will proclaim this to be an heroic end. To me it is a sorry finale for a distinguished and good man. Even the obituary in the New York Times mentioned, with more accuracy than delicacy, that all the unparalleled kindnesses to players did not obtain for Mitropoulos their best efforts. There is, alas, no relation between human empathy and musical good behavior.

— Erich Leinsdorf, Cadenza: A Musical Career

Well, am I composing again yet? Yes and no. Finding myself, on one hand, with the shades of a question mark hovering over the Ensemble, or at least over its calendar, and on the other a wish to write something, only not for the shelf, please, I took an inspirational cue from my friend Luke Ottevanger and decided to write brief easy piano pieces. Two, thus far.

When Greta & Mike presented the clarinet/bassoon version of Janky Juke Joint, our Todd immediately expressed interest in playing it. So this is not an absolute surprise. Still, I wasn’t expecting Friday’s message from Greta that she & Todd had got together Thursday and that they also read the bass clarinet/bassoon version of the Lamentatio. So, it is for Greta & Todd that I shall compose the Op. 212.

Bach, Beer and Henning

 Another alien in another movie who oversimplifies, and gets it wrong. “Everything you [humans] created is used to destroy.” Hello? One word: Music. Do a little homework before off-handedly condemning the race, hunh?
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

A person who wishes to stay in public life must edit what he says or he must allow others to tone down and rephrase opinions, ideas, and statements, lest a personal truth in unpalatable form make trouble. There arrives a moment in a man’s career — if it has not been wholly inconsequential — when he wants to say what he really feels and thinks. Autobiography is well suited to such a purpose if three principal pitfalls inherent in that genre are avoided. First there is the “Apologia Pro Vita Sua,” then “Get Even with the Bastards,” and finally “Mellow Memories of Overripe Age,” all of which I have aimed to avoid. I feel no need to apologize. If any bastard got the better of me I blamed myself and I have no further need for getting even. Mellow I am not and while some of my memories are bathed in a glow I believe that — in many respects — the Golden age is with us right now, at least for the professional who performs music. If one does not overestimate the significance of the small cabals, my profession is honest. The attempts at “corriger la fortune” lead either nowhere or not very far. Perhaps there is a difference between my definition of success and that of simpler minds to whom money and notoriety spell fulfillment. Ultimately each of us faces only the Self, whom we cannot cheat.
— Erich Leinsdorf, Cadenza: A Musical Career

My friend and colleague Aaron Larget-Caplan has selected the Henning Opus 203, Uneasy Sleep to be part of his second Bach & Beer event at the Lilypad in Cambridge next month.

Thoughts on the Contents of the Fritz Reiner Box

Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet

Eating her curds and whey;

When along came a spider whose backside was wider,

And elbowed Miss Muffet away.

— Postcards From Red Squirrel Trail

“I’m loaded with options” — legend on an apron worn by Peter Falk at a barbecue in The In-Laws

Lawd, but there’s scarcely any Richard Strauss missing here. One notable omission from my standpoint is the Metamorphosen, but overall one gathers that Reiner considered Strauss the most significant composer in his lifetime. There is just the super-saturation of Beethoven and Brahms which one would expect. There are two recordings of the Schumann Piano Concerto, but no symphonies of either Schumann or Mendelssohn. Somehow, no Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. A mild smattering of Haydn and Mozart symphonies. If you asked me. I should probably say I prefer HIP to otherwise for Mozart. However, I just cannot argue with a recording that sounds this good. There are even two Mozart divertimenti (including of course Eine kleine Nachtmusik.) This was well before questions of historical practice arose, so on one hand this is some distance from the composer’s sonic experience. On t’other, one clearly cannot fault a conductor for the wish to present these works. French and Russian music perforce take a back seat, and the only Italian music is Respighi’s Pines and Fountains. Of nineteenth-century Russians, we find the usual suspects. From Reiner’s own century, Audience-friendly Rakhmaninov is represented both by the expected concertante works and Isle of the Dead. The only Stravinsky works are the non-threatening Chant du rossignol and the Divertimento (suite from Le baiser de la fée) the latter is paired with the landmark recording of Hovhaness Magic Mountain Symphony, which is both the first commercially available recording of that composer’s work and the only work by an American composer in the box (pace the expatriate Czech composer Jaromír Weinberger, whose Polka and Fugue from the opera, Švanda Dudák appears. The greatest curiosity in the box, perhaps, is a Concerto for Jazzband and Symphony Orchestra by Swiss composer Rolf Liebermann.

Summertime

To give you an idea of his character: when he popped the question, the enraged question popped right back.
— Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

I am without hope. I am a dispossessed soul tiptoeing in agony across the wasteland of my shattered dreams....
— a despondent guru in Rod Serling's Night Gallery. 

This week in “Nobody can tell me this is a Smart Speaker” ... I instructed the Echo device to pause; I asked the device what the track was; asked the device to resume playing; and promptly heard: I am not sure what to resume.

We had some excellent and highly productive Henning Ensemble rehearsals in July. We have not, however, succeeded in finding a date or dates on which to present a program. Furthermore, a misalignment of heavenly bodies has frustrated attempts to find musically productive rehearsal time in August. Merely reporting facts.

Before I understood the degree to which Project Concert was slouching towards Limbo, I adapted the Magnificat from the Op. 87 Evening Service in D (an event which was a particular musical success, I felt, albeit St Paul’s would give me the cold shoulder later) for our Quintet.

N.B. I am actually posting this on 5 August 2026.

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.