Missive to the Sea, of which I share the first three minutes here, was made on August 26, 2022. Apposite are my notes to Odes on a Dying Rainbow, which I quote:
Notable throughout is the unwavering focus on and immersion in sound. The music’s slow, deliberate, and enunciated logic is ever pregnant with possibility and intent. Full of motion and plasticity, it invites the ear to give over fully to the unfolding sound life. The music makes no references to formal schemes of the past; its structure is the very exact record of the genuine, immediate interaction with sound. Notable is an absence of friction in the music: friction of the compositional process, friction of musical notation, and friction of reading, interpretation, and execution. It exhibits at once the qualities of a fully worked-out composition and of a deeply considered yet spontaneous interpretation. There is a gratifying certitude to the sound ideas that echoes notated composition and its premeditated, dramatic purposefulness, but which bypasses the inefficiency of the intellect, of notation, and of the subsequent process of execution; the agencies of composer and performer are done away with. Conception and sound are one. Watch the full video here.
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Odes on a Dying Rainbow, an excerpt of which I share here, is one example of the way distinctions between improvisation and composition dissolve in my work in a way unlike that of any other composer.
The work was created on August 27, 2022. It consists of three prolonged gazes (18-19 minutes each) on the same thought-image. Notable throughout is the unwavering focus on and immersion in sound. The music’s slow, deliberate, and enunciated logic is ever pregnant with possibility and intent. Full of motion and plasticity, it invites the ear to give over fully to the unfolding sound life. The music makes no references to formal schemes of the past; its structure is the very exact record of the genuine, immediate interaction with sound. Notable is an absence of friction in the music: friction of the compositional process, friction of musical notation, and friction of reading, interpretation, and execution. It exhibits at once the qualities of a fully worked-out composition and of a deeply considered yet spontaneous interpretation. There is a gratifying certitude to the sound ideas that echoes notated composition and its premeditated, dramatic purposefulness, but which bypasses the inefficiency of the intellect, of notation, and of the subsequent process of execution; the agencies of composer and performer are done away with. Conception and sound are one. The almost identical duration of the three odes points to an intuitive exactitude that Arnold Schoenberg called a “sense of form” and which he regarded as the most important aspect of a composer’s creative awareness. In the coming weeks I will be releasing two more works that were made in the same vein the day prior. Watch the full Odes on a Dying Rainbow video here. Never in this life did I think I’d play Bach like this. But summer brings birth and new things, and the sound of my new piano (new to me: it’s a 1925 Steinway Model O) is so beautiful that my ears have gone to new places. I’m more certain than ever of the inexhaustible nature of Bach’s propositions. I hope the microphones impart some of the music’s dimension and some of my gratitude.
This invention (like all the others) is a radical composition; it is unique in the set of 15 for a number of reasons, one of which is how clearly it demonstrates how Bach’s formal thinking appropriates that of the Franco-Flemish School, in whose polyphony the component lines exhibit such persistent independent-mindedness as to repel one another like magnets brought together at their ends of like charge.
I have never loved the term “imitative polyphony.” A polyphonic idea is a contrapuntal combination of discrete sound components whose sense lies in the totality of their combined sound. The art of invertible counterpoint consists of varying the disposition of these components in relation to one another; it is a way of exploring the implicit potential of a basic idea so as to produce a variety of sound expressions that also fulfill different compositional/syntactic functions. Here form literally equals the unravelling of the idea’s inherent potential. When two varying dispositions of the same basic idea are placed in succession, it is possible to hear the recurring component material—which will appear in a different voice or register than before—as a repetition or “imitation” of what has just been stated elsewhere. But this misses the point. The attention, so far as the composer is concerned, is rather on the total sound emanation created by the new disposition, which cannot be traced to any of its components individually. It is somehow greater than the sum of its parts. Polyphony, and counterpoint, paradoxically, are more vertical than horizontal. The individual lines exhibit independence, but the perception of independence comes about only in relation to their context. With equal and opposite intensity, my long form and miniature works seek a sonic effect that is fully experienced only in live performance, and realized only when the work is finished, in the silence that follows. My summer is off in a fury of notated composition, taking the form of solo piano miniatures whose contrapuntal and harmonic technique intuitively exhibits, among other things, the nourishment I have received from the music of two composers: Galina Ustvolskaya and Olivier Messiaen. I aim to present this work later this summer. Meanwhile, the work presented here explores miniature form with just the intensity described above. The exquisite performance was given on my Reinterpretations series as part of the presentation “Parallel Futures” in November 2016 at Spectrum. The following is from the program notes: “Music is perhaps most explicitly poetic in a miniature. And one could say such music, in its absolute concentration, most materially transforms the immediate silence around it, making of it a special moment, a unique time of reflection, a potent space in which divergent narratives can be awakened, each, in parallel, suggestive of meanings in the music consequential to the life of a listener.” My interest in counterpoint underlies much of my concert music. My string quintet, presented in this video along with the score, is a large-scale polyphonic conception and an unusual, multi-faceted outcome of my fascination with the music of the Franco-Flemish School. The ‘Salve Regina’ plainchant unfolds in the Viola I and II parts over the course of the work as a cantus firmus. It is the inspiration for the work’s obsessive, relentless, virtuosic polyphony. The work abounds in esoteric contrapuntal play. Its rhythmic language satisfies an urge to create new, complex, dynamic polyphonic interactions. Its pitch language notably moves fluently and at times symbolically between atonality and pure diatonicism, a primary compositional interest of mine. The work was composed for my Reinterpretations concert series as part of the performance-lecture “Polyphony, Mysticism, and the Music of Opposites,” presented at Spectrum on May 15, 2016.
September’s Reinterpretations was an important artistic achievement for me. The work’s form unfolds wholly from the sonorous, bell-like repeated low sounds that begin the piece and whose intermingling creates a complex ether of sound that founds the harmonic life of the middle and upper registers. The blending together of opposing sound-colors creates the music’s ever-renewed, ever-deepening sense of dimension. I found the entire hour-long exploration exhilarating and intensely focused. To my delight, I felt it could have continued indefinitely.
This is astonishing music and the purest music imaginable. Ustvolskaya attains this purity with a radically extreme economy of means that enables her to focus her aural imagination—to hear more deeply, and to hear more in less. Her Preludes are contrapuntal forms. J.S. Bach, in his later fugues, can be found doing away with the simplest possibilities his subjects offer, seeking out and showcasing ever more improbable dispositions of the basic material. He broadens himself by opening his heart to uncharted territory: his compositional ethic radiates faith and humanism. So Ustvolskaya’s language in her Preludes is contrapuntal; she finds musical expression entirely through invertible counterpoint, seeking sound combinations that are as radical and as humanistic as Bach’s. The music burns with precision, is intensely concentrated, and is deeply expressive, yet defies expression only because everything being said is purely musical.
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