18 May 2010

No news, but . . .

. . . seen today on a friend’s status update on fb:


The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.
— Oscar Wilde

My musical career, there in a nutshell.




Well, one carries on. Doing good work is the best answer.

Preparation for today’s recital included printing out an extra three pages, to be strategically placed in unobstrusive places for an itinerant clarinetist to refer to.

17 May 2010

Coming Tuesday 18.v.10

Cool Breezes

Music of Karl Henning

Irreplaceable Doodles, Opus 89 (2007)
Here You Go / Hear You Go, Opus 101 (2010) première

three for two, Opus 97 flute & clarinet
№ 1: Heedless Watermelon, Opus 97 (2009)
№ 2: All the Birds in Mondrian’s Cage, Opus 97 (2009)
№ 3: Swivels & Bops, Opus 97 (2010) flute & clarinet

Peter H. Bloom, flute
Karl Henning, clarinet

Tuesday, 18 May 2010
12:15pm
King’s Chapel
Corner of School & Tremont Streets, Boston
(near the Park St ‘T’)

Free-will offering

Veni, swivi, bopi . . . .

15 May 2010

A good kind of busy

Very pleased with how we played the Out in the Moon program at St Paul’s on Wednesday. Small but keenly attentive audience.




As a guest instrumentalist, I’m set to play at First Congregational in Woburn tomorrow, including my Canzona & Gigue.




The chance arose all of a sudden to play both the Brahms Opus 120 clarinet sonatas with Eric Mazonson in Newton. Haven’t played them in years, and the mere notion of programming the two back-to-back on the same concert strikes me as agreeably cheeky.




The Alleluia in D is in rehearsal as part of a Sine Nomine performance next Sunday.




And Peter H. Bloom and I have a lunchtime program to play in King’s Chapel this Tuesday.

11 May 2010

notes for tomorrow, from the moon

Lunar Glare :: A large portion of the inspiration for this piece I owe to Domenico Scarlatti. I had heard a few of Scarlatti’s keyboard sonatas on synthesizer and piano before I ever heard them on the harpsichord . . . I thought the sonatas nifty even when synthesized or pianified, but I like them better still on the shimmering strings of the harpsichord. The clarinet was invented (developed is probably better) in the mid-18th century, a time when the harpsichord was already being eclipsed1 by the piano; so the very idea of the two instruments together implies a degree of anachronism which likes me well. As to the process of composition, I don’t know that I could say much apart from the fact that I delighted in the timbral contrasts between the two instruments. Some passages are fanciful explorations (in my own musical language) of the harpsichord’s proper idiom. There is a kind of mensural canon (imitation in which the second ‘voice’ declaims the same material, but at an accelerated rhythmic rate). There are stretches of the piece where the two instruments alternate with different material entirely (suggesting that they have no common ground), and another passage where the two instruments are bound together in a whirlwind unison. It was fun to write, and I find it great fun to play. An early draft of the piece included notes that are just too high for Paul’s harpsichord to play; he made me change those. The inspiration for the title came from signage on a Massachusetts highway advising motorists to be cautious of solar glare in the morning2.

1 Subtle, moonish pun

2 It is a road I am apt to travel at night.

All the Birds in Mondrian’s Cage / Swivels & Bops :: Once I had written Heedless Watermelon for Peter and myself to play together, it proved such great fun (— that word again —) that I knew I wanted to round it out as a set of three pieces. (Time constraints for today’s program make it impractical to offer the complete set of three.) Not long after our July concerts last year, my eye fell upon a Mondrian reproduction, and I thought about how I might compose a piece with musical means to reflect the austere simplicity of de Stijl. (Not an absolutely original idea, by the way, as I had studied with the Dutch composer Louis Andriessen when I was in Buffalo, and it is to Louis that I owe my introduction to the term.) I first played All the Birds in Mondrian’s Cage with Nicole Randall Chamberlain in Atlanta last November. I wrote Swivels & Bops earlier this year, because I knew I would; it is dance-music for turtle-doves. Every Christmas, I used to wonder what the two turtle-doves would like to dance to.

Fragments of « Morning Has Broken » :: Bill Goodwin, music director of the First Congregational Church in Woburn, Mass., commissioned this trio for us to play with violinist John Jelatis. In its original clarinet-violin-piano version, I’ve also played it here at St Paul’s with violinist Stephen Symchych and former music director Mark Engelhardt. Honestly couldn’t say at this point why I adapted it for flute-clarinet-piano (which involved some redistribution between the single-line instruments). The piece is a variant on the idea of theme-and-variations. There is no initial statement of the theme, but after an introductory passage (which returns in a metrical alteration . . . more variations) each section of the piece takes a successive fragment of the hymn-tune Bunessan as a topic for exploration. I find it irresistible to share that, when we played the piece here in 2004, I overheard a member of the audience say immediately afterwards, “Cat Stevens, eat your heart out.”

09 May 2010

For a week hence

begin transcript


Dear Bill,

Here I’ve attached two scores: my Canzona & Gigue, and an arrangement (varying degrees of liberty) dubbed Handeliana.

I’d suggest we do perhaps the first movement (or first & third) of the Handeliana for a Prelude; the Canzona during the service (for the Offertory?) and the Gigue for a Postlude.

When we get together to practice, if you like, we can give the middle movement of the Handeliana a run just for kicks.

The Canzona & Gigue I wrote for Mark Engelhardt and myself . . . he had given me short notice that he wanted the two of us to play something together for a service, so I made a point of writing an organ part that did not make great demands.

The Handeliana was an idea I’d been kicking around a long time (it was brewing a lot when we’d sing Messiah with Tom de Blois, for instance). The occasion for actually writing it was, James Woodman was subbing for Mark at the Cathedral, and (similarly) he reached out to me for original music for the two of us to play one Sunday.

Cheers,
~k.

end transcript

08 May 2010

More Moon &c.

Having a great time practicing Lunar Glare. Even (or especially) on my own — for I do need to learn some notes. Paul is learning his notes, so it would be disgraceful for the composer not to learn his own &c.




For the grand finale of the 21 June concert, I was thinking of composing something fresh for all six players — but I am powerfully attracted to the thought that we could bring a scene of White Nights before a willing public; so I am likely to do some arranging instead.




Feels like the end of an era in a way . . . but I got a new double clarinet case. Quite smart, and looks like it will travel easier on a plane. So we can tour anytime now.

Coming Wednesday 12.v.10

Out in the Moon

The k a rl h e nn i ng Ensemble

Lunar Glare, Opus 98 (2010) clarinet & harpsichord — première
All the Birds in Mondrian’s Cage, Opus 97 № 2 (2009) flute & clarinet
Swivels & Bops, Opus 97 № 3 (2010) flute & clarinet — première
Fragments of « Morning Has Broken », Opus 64a (2002) flute, clarinet & piano

Peter H. Bloom, flute
Paul Cienniwa, harpsichord, piano
Karl Henning, clarinet

Wednesday, 12 May 2010
12:15pm
The Cathedral Church of St Paul
138 Tremont Street, Boston
(near the Park St ‘T’)

Free-will offering

Head for the moonshine . . . .