The Future is Now

recordinglightLast week I produced a string quartet recording in Tel Aviv…from my home near Washington DC. I’d written the quartet as a sort of reverse overture for an upcoming film, An Open DoorThe score will be for full orchestra, but this condensed ten-minute work contains all the major themes. Of course the compositional trick was to write idiomatic string parts for melodies that I’ve imagined for French horn or oboe, along with a full string section, brass, woodwinds, percussion section, etc. The practical trick—a kind of 21st century magic—was to oversee the recording without actually being there.
The onsite engineer and I managed the second trick via Facetime on our phones. Barack gave me a quick tour of the space and of each microphone he was using. I met the members of the quartet, with first violinist, Hagai Shaham translating between Hebrew and English. Maybe you have worked this way before, but it was my first experience with virtual audio production, and I’m now hooked. Though I unfortunately wasn’t able to travel to the session due to other obligations, I was able to get the performance I was hoping for from the quartet. Futurists have been predicting the advent of videophones since I was a little kid. I can’t believe the future is finally here.

A Theme for Remembrance

As a rule, film music doesn’t make particularly good concert music. There are exceptions, of course—much of Bernard Herrmann’s work translates beautifully to the concert hall—but mostly, nah. And conversely, not much serious concert music makes for a workable film score. So I usually try to keep these two areas of endeavor separate in my own work. But I am headed into a ticklish situation in this regard. Director Sonny Izon will be traveling to Israel shortly to record a string quartet version of my theme for his next documentary, An Open Door. Part of the film involves a luthier in Jerusalem named Amnon Weinstein who restores violins that were played by European Jews in the camps and ghettos of the Holocaust. With his craft, he seeks to give these lost legions back their voices. Sonny will record the theme in Israel using these instruments, and later on I’ll also help make a live recording of the same music at a concentration camp in Germany. Writing this music, writing an interesting string quartet that can possibly work as part of a film score, has been a puzzle for me to solve, but one well worth the artistic risk.
 

In the Swim

I swim every day. And I’m sure every day it looks exactly the same to the lifeguard, yet each time it’s a drastically different experience for me. The details of a stroke change in minuscule ways: where your hand enters the water, how much your body rotates on its axis, how high your elbow stays on the recovery, etc. But I can always tell instantly whether my workout is flowing or not. It’s the same with the piano. Every day, I play the same scales that I have played for fifty years. Some days they feel great. Some days I could swear that I had never seen a piano before. But to the casual set of ears off in the kitchen, I sound exactly the same. The difference between a good-feeling warm up and a miserable one is basically inaudible. As musicians, we choose to live in a world where we grade ourselves harshly on the smallest things. It is a special interior hell, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I feel lucky to have an inner sense governing the tiny but all-important gradations in performance. And, unlike with swimming, where I sincerely doubt that I will ever equal my teenage times, we actually can practice music and get better our whole lives. As Pablo Casals famously said when asked why he continued to practice at age 92, “I think I’m starting to see an improvement.”

Fanfare for the Open Road

I recently completed a challenging commission. Maestro Pat Miles asked me to write a fanfare for his student orchestra at the University of Wisconsin, Stevens Point. The occasion is his upcoming retirement after umpty-ump years of teaching horn players and building the orchestral program into its current formidable state. (Pat plans to stay on as conductor of the Central Wisconsin Symphony Orchestra.) It is hard for me to write music without having a picture in my head, and I had a tough time envisioning what a retirement looks like. But then I remembered the large photo of Maestro Miles that hangs in the Central Wisconsin Symphony Orchestra concert hall along with portraits of some of the section leaders. He’s wearing a proper tuxedo with tails, carrying a baton, and perched on the ultra-light racing bicycle he rides as a serious racer. That image of Pat is all I needed. Like that photograph, music can be deeply serious and light-hearted at the same time. The two-minute piece is scheduled for premiere in May. You can download the score and an MP3 of the synth track here.

In Praise of Non-Broadcast

Young composers often ask me how to break into writing for film and television. One kind of work I advise them to pursue is a type I still enjoy doing myself: “industrials,” or non-broadcast films for corporate or nonprofit clients. I recently scored a piece on ethics for the Educational Testing Service; an exhibit piece for the Roosevelt Institute in Hyde Park, New York; and a labor of love by the director Cressandra Thibodeaux about a pair of art patrons in Houston, Texas.
The quality of these films is often very high. The directors are often very good. And, surprisingly, the music budget is sometimes bigger than it is on broadcast TV shows, which means more leeway to hire musicians for recording sessions. The trick to writing a successful score for these films is staying out of the way of the words. The right score will generally not have a prominent melody. It will be all about texture and pace. Films like these are a great training ground for any composer.

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