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