Thursday, May 09, 2013

Scallops and Bollocks for Tea at Anti-Social Music: Drinks Alone

Mah violin + nintendo piece Scallops and Bollocks for Tea, which you can listen to FOR FREE here:
 
...is being given its live premiere tonight by Curtis Stewart and Anti-Social Music at this show in Brooklyn:


...which is pretty awesome. This marks the second time I'll be driving up to NYC this week, since Matt accompanied me to Die Walküre at the Met on Monday, which was a different kind of awesome.

Anyway, you! should! go! Because fun!

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Monday, May 06, 2013

Adults who give children guns are as bad as adults who give children porn.



America. Let me put something to you.

There are two things nearly all of us agree should be reserved for adults rather than children: sex and death.

Pornography can potentially lead to sex. It is created for the purpose of sex.
Guns can potentially lead to death. They are created for the purpose of death.

Ownership of pornography in this country is protected by the First Amendment.
Ownership of guns in this country is protected by the Second Amendment.

It is illegal to provide pornography to minors.
It is perfectly legal to provide firearms to minors.

A child is not permitted to possess visual masturbation aids.
A child is permitted to possess a weapon that can kill himself or others.

A parent will be prosecuted and vilified for providing pornography to a five-year-old.
A parent is allowed to provide a five-year-old with a gun.

Organizations like NAMBLA who believe that children are ready for sex are vilified politically.
Organizations like the NRA who believe that children are ready for guns are proudly championed politically.

Do you believe in providing children with guns? In my eyes, you are as irresponsible and perverted as a parent who provides their children with In Anal Sluts We Trust #6. Honestly. That's how awful you are.

Do you believe that children should learn about guns and death for their own safety? Fine; you can educate children about death and guns without giving them access to guns, just as you can educate children about sex and arousal without giving them access to pornography and dildos. Use diagrams. Use educational videos. Use models of guns. In sex education, teachers give children plastic models of vaginas and penises. They don't drop their drawers and allow them to touch actual vaginas and penises. Children do not have the maturity to handle actual sexual contact any more than they have the maturity to handle a deadly weapon.

It should be illegal to provide a minor with a firearm.

What the hell is wrong with you people.

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Saturday, May 04, 2013

Kitten pictures, fried chicken and donuts.

Today:
  1. I spent more than two hours playing with kittens and cats. A few weeks ago, a stray cat gave birth to three kittens in our neighbor's shed (their shed door doesn't close properly). In that time, we've noticed a black long-haired male cat always hanging around, yowling and marking everything; he seems to be on really good terms with Mama cat, so we decided to assume he's Papa cat. He actually seems to be co-parenting the kittens, which strikes me as fairly unusual for stray cats. Must be a progressive new-age dad.

    The kittens venture into the spring sunshine soon after we first saw them.

    Papa stray cat is so tame and chill that I think I will have no trouble getting him to a vet sometime soon to have him neutered. He must have belonged to someone once. I have named him Cairo — not that we're taking him in; I just spent enough time with him that I felt he needed a name. He's covered in scabs and I'm worried he has FIV; I guess we'll see what the vet says. After today, one of the kittens is starting to get used to me, enough that I was able to pick him up and pet him, and he dozed in my lap. The other two and Mama cat are still too shy to let me get near.

    Papa cat Cairo and kitten

    Kitten not doing too badly at the whole human interaction thing.
    Cairo lounges in the background.

    Found the sweet spot on his back.

    Cairo much happier after a feed. We gave him some Frontline too.

    Mama cat and another kitten refuse to emerge from under our shed.

    Tabby kitten, meanwhile, is having a pretty good time.

  2. Matt wanted to try some cold brewed La Colombe coffee, so we decided to walk into the city for a late lunch. I figured we'd get burgers on the way to La Colombe, but on Sansom Street we passed ... a new branch of Federal Donuts! I have been itching to try this place for ages, but was turned off by stories of having to get up early and wait in line at their original store. But this branch, which I wasn't even aware had opened, was still doling out chicken and donuts mid-afternoon, and there wasn't even a queue. Hooray! we got twelve chicken wings (six each of Ballpark BBQ and Buttermilk Ranch) and a half-dozen hot fresh donuts. Oh my god. So good. A++++++ OUTSTANDING FOOD WOULD EAT AGAIN. I didn't even think to take pictures of the chicken and donuts. I just thought to eat them.

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Friday, May 03, 2013

I am a woman. I am a composer. I am a woman composer.

Being a female composer is weird for the simple reason that there aren't very many of us and we aren't all that visible. (Being a female composer of color is even weirder.)

I've been calling myself a composer for about six years now, and over that time, I've become more and more conscious of my gender, and to a lesser degree, my ethnicity. Maybe at first I was just so narcissistically excited to think of myself as a composer at all that I didn't notice my colleagues' background. Once I started taking notice, however, it became a game at new music concerts to survey all the composers forced to take those terrible awkward bows from the audience after their pieces have been performed (God, I hate taking those bows). And the result?

The vast majority of composers are white men of average build with brown hair and glasses.


I don't have a scientific survey, but a tally of the people around me suggests that this majority is upward of 80%. Sometimes gaggles of composers look so similar that I can easily imagine they are all siblings in some incredibly musical quiverfull family whose father only shoots Y-chromosome sperm.

Some composers are older and their brown hair has turned grey or white, and sometimes they wear contact lenses instead of glasses, but for the most part, this stereotype is confirmed over and over again. Very occasionally the composers are Hispanic or Asian, but they usually retain the characteristics of maleness and having average build and brown hair and glasses.

I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with being an average-looking white guy with brown hair and glasses. They're not actively oppressing anyone just by being who they are. Nobody who fits this description should have to feel guilty about it. And obviously there are exceptions to this rule. But the stereotype applies to the point where I'm often left giggling at its absurd ubiquity.

So what the hell does this mean? We live in a world brimming with all kinds of gender (and racial) equality now, right?* Why aren't there more female composers around? Are the institutions sexist? Are the judging panels of composition contests and the programmers of concert series sexist?

I don't think they necessarily are, or at least, I don't think that's the real root of the problem. Institutions, judging panels, and programmers just exist in a world where the vast majority of all composers are already white men of average build with brown hair and glasses, and that majority isn't changing very quickly. How can you demonstrate equality between the sexes in any concert series when maybe one in ten composers out there are women?** You can't just pluck women at random from the street and ask them to compose some art music. It takes years of training, and of course, they have to want to do it in the first place.

And thus the problem is perpetuated because the example is very firmly set for younger generations: "Hey, kids! Composers look like white guys with brown hair and glasses. They've looked like this for 600 years, and they look the same way now."

When you're a child, you absorb all kinds of things about gender from the moment you start interacting with the world. Men are heroes, and women are princesses to be won. Men are doctors, and women are nurses. Alpha-male businessmen have ultra-feminine secretaries.

Quick: picture a firefighter. He's a man, right?

Quick: picture a professor. If you didn't think of an old white guy, you are a very unusual person.

Quick: picture a kindergarten teacher. If you didn't picture a woman, you are again a very unusual person.

I've worked with little kids a fair bit as a theater/acting educator, and something I notice about them is that you very rarely meet a little boy who wants to be a nurse or a teacher when he grows up. For whatever reason, little boys have been socialized to think of these jobs as unsuitable for them. You also don't find a lot of little girls wanting to be pilots or engineers or firefighters. Of course, when they grow older, they sometimes learn that these traditionally gendered careers are open to them after all, and they occasionally follow those paths. But still, over 90% of registered nurses are female. Over 80% of engineers are male.***

Now ask a musically literate child to think of ten composers. If she can name that many, how many do you think will be women? How many of the compositions that child has learned to play do you think are by women?

Knowing this, how many little girls do you think might want to be composers when they grow up? How many little girls even realize they can be composers? How many have even had the idea?

Maybe, just maybe, there's a reason that, despite being a musician all my life, I didn't even think about becoming a composer until I was 24, and I didn't call myself one until I was 26.

(Related: how many black children do you think want to be art music composers when they grow up? Funny story: like every other clunky-fingered beginner pianist, I learned The Entertainer as a child, but I am horrifically ashamed to admit I only found out last year that Scott Joplin was black. The internet didn't exist when I learned The Entertainer, I'd never seen a picture, and nobody ever mentioned to me that he was black, so by default, I had always pictured him as a white guy (probably wearing a boater hat). Shocked and mortified by my own ignorance, I informed my husband how dumb his wife was, and he had to admit that, until that moment, he also had not known that Scott Joplin was black, despite learning about ragtime in high school music class. Nobody had told him either.)

One of the pressures that I feel as a woman composer is my own desire to demonstrate to future generations of little girls that composers aren't just white men with brown hair and glasses. Even though most of them still are. The only way the demographics are going to change is if we go in at the ground level. We need young girls and boys to see that composition is not a gendered pursuit, not just by telling them so, but by showing them. We need a Girls Rock Philly organization for classical music — or maybe there would be a way to fit classical music into their mission? I don't know — I haven't approached them, though I absolutely love what they do. I really want to volunteer with them once my schedule allows i.e. after Ayn. I want to start a composition school for girls.

Maybe I'm doing myself no favors, but I don't feel it's enough for me to exist as a composer and forget about the "woman" part. I personally feel an obligation to be more visible if I can be, to make up for the fact that I'm such a minority, so that it's not such a fucking embarrassment to new music that all the composers taking a bow look exactly the same. With the situation as it is, women composers need to shine brighter than their abundant male counterparts so that eventually, one frabjous day, so many aspiring girls will take our place that we will be able to forget about the "woman" part. That day has not arrived. Yeah, this is problematic; that's a lot of pressure to place on current women composers. It makes things unequal for us. It contributes to the sense that in order to make it, we have to work twice as hard. It confirms the idea that the default majority can make it as individuals, but minority artists are forced to represent their entire group. But I'd rather do that than pretend there isn't an imbalance and do nothing, which is about as useful a solution as calling myself George and wearing a top hat. ("Hey kids! Composition is such a male pursuit, I had to become a man in order to do it!")

(Tangentially related: I think it would be really interesting to study how the demographics of forensic scientists, particularly forensic pathologists, have changed since the 1980's. I've mentioned this before: I watch a lot, I mean a lot of television detective shows, particularly police procedurals, and it seems like virtually every TV forensic pathologist is a woman now. I enrolled in med school in 1997 only because I wanted to be a forensic pathologist (and quit when I realized there weren't enough jobs in Australia in that field); I have no doubt now that this desire was in part inspired by The X-Files and Patricia Cornwell, and there are even more fictional examples of female FP's now. Has fictional representation in the media done anything to affect gender distribution in forensic pathology more than other medical fields? I'd be so curious to know.)


I am woman, hear me ... make woman music

Here's a confession. When I first decided to become a composer, I bristled at the idea that I was a "female composer." I felt there was a stereotype about the kind of music that a female composer would write, and I didn't want to fit that mold. What can I say? I hadn't really thought deeply about the reasons behind my views. I had just finished a long fling with industrial music, which is deeply gendered and whose fans can be quite sexist when explaining their musical preferences ("I don't like female-fronted bands."). I wanted to make it in a man's world writing MANLY MALE MUSIC like all those MAN COMPOSERS I had admired all my life. The ultimate expression of (second-wave) feminism, right?

Of course, this brings up a huge, touchy question. Do female composers and male composers write different kinds of music? I don't claim to have any kind of definitive answer. We are almost certainly socialized very early on to believe that there is some level of gender differentiation in music. Society still tends to squeeze everyone and everything into categories of feminine and masculine. Boys are given trucks to play with and encouraged to listen to loud tough music. Girls are given dolls to play with and encouraged to listen to pretty soothing music. By the time you reach middle school, there are at least some boundaries set, sad as they may be. A boy would probably catch hell for being into female pop bands. A girl is flying a tomboy flag if she's into heavy metal. A lot of children start throwing around slurs when they see peers not behaving in a strictly heteronormative way. Children learn to conform, no matter how much we ask them to be brave.

I brought this discussion up on a Facebook thread the other day, and a friend made a comment that got me thinking:
But do you find it worth exploring, like an evolutionary psychologist might, whether there are some maybe biological underpinnings for the different sorts of music they're likely to write and play?
My first impulse was to yell NO!! We are all forced to conform! We're all the same deep down! But then I wondered. And I remembered: biologically, women and men do perceive things differently. Take color. Women see more yellow in green and more red in orange than men do. Far more men are colorblind, but now we've discovered that some women are tetrachromats and see 100 million more colors than men. Where sound is concerned, women have a faster and more negative reaction to a baby's cry than men, to encourage/force them to look after their squalling young (a nasty evolutionary trick that helps explain why I become highly anxious on airplanes when a baby starts screaming, while Matt takes it perfectly calmly). Along the same lines, men and women have very different sensitivities to sounds, at least when sleeping. A crying baby is the sound most likely to wake a woman. The sound isn't even in the top ten for men, who are more likely to react to a car alarm.

If our senses are calibrated differently, wouldn't that have some kind of influence on our artistic taste? What kind of influence? (Maybe I don't like some types of dissonant music because they sound too much like babies crying? she ponders facetiously) It's a very complicated question, and any answer would be less than universal. But I have to wonder: if there were more women composers, would art music sound different? At some level, do women feel, like I once did, that they should make an effort to write like men, because male composers set all the examples we study in school?

Maybe these are stupid questions. I don't know. All I know for sure is that, six years ago, I had internalized some horrible idea that my music shouldn't be too "feminine," whatever the hell that means, because somehow "feminine" was bad. "Feminine" wouldn't be taken seriously enough by the art music world. People would roll their eyes and dismiss me as a wishy-washy woman composer. I hate that I held this attitude. It wasn't something at the forefront of my mind, I didn't express it in any overt way, but it was there. Ugh ugh ugh.

So here it is. I am a woman composer. I don't set out to write "feminine" music, but if anyone were to find it feminine, including myself, fine. Good. We have had 600 years of music written by men, 600 years of being told that that is what art music is. If—if—our music is different in any way, we shouldn't shy away from that. We shouldn't deny our gender.

And if we write "masculine" music, that's good too. But it's not better.

Maybe I'm the only person in the world to have internalized these ideas to the point where I have to talk myself out of them in a therapeutic blog rant. I doubt it, though.

*Hahahaha.
**Without affirmative action, that is (OOGER BOOGER).
***Not even getting into women of color here because it's too depressing.

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Thursday, April 25, 2013

Summer ahoy! Recordings aplenty!

In a week, school will be out, and it will be time for me to begin sifting through my summer workload. My to-do list for the next few months consists of a pile of relatively minor administrative things like answering calls for scores, all overshadowed by one mighty task and two not-quite-so-mighty-but-formidable-nonetheless tasks, namely: finish composing Ayn, complete some sort of article for my dissertation, and redesign this website. Yes, it's time for a revamp! This site has looked more or less the same for about six years, and it feels stale to me, although apparently some people still rather like it. Websites are like hair; you have to change them up or you get bored. Well, I do, anyway.

One of the things I must include on the new website, front and center, is subscription information about the mailing list I finally started, after years of procrastination. Here's the Mailchimp page for it, from where you can read previous newsletters and subscribe—I should arrange for the newsletter to auto-publish to this blog as well, I suppose. I generally dislike the concept of newsletters, but there's no denying they are effective at getting word out, as Matt can confirm via the very successful click-through and sales stats on the mailing lists of e-commerce sites he administers.

Here is some news from my last newsletter, goody:
  • Here's a big one that you probably weren't expecting because it was super-secret news up till now: I can officially announce that I have been selected as the 2013/14 composer for the Choral Arts Laboratory held by the award-winning choir Volti in San Francisco. Yay! They'll be flying me out in October to workshop a new commission in progress, which they will premiere next Spring. This is a huge honor, and a rare opportunity to write something truly adventurous for a choral group with mad skills. Trust me, composers don't get chances like this very often. 
And more goodness:
  • A couple of years ago, the super-fun and eclectic new music collective Anti-Social Music premiered a piece I wrote called Handshake that was rejected by a, shall we say, less adventurous ensemble who thought it wasn't Serious enough for them. As in, they wouldn't even read it. Seriously, ASM did a smashing job, and the piece remains one of my favorite of my own compositions, despite the fact that Very Serious Music People are sometimes left scratching their heads. Anyway, earlier this year I wrote a piece for solo violin and "tape" (I don't know why we still call it tape. I don't even remember the last time I even saw a tape.) that falls into the same rough attitudinal category, and ASM will be premiering that on May 9 in Brooklyn. It's called Theme and Variables: Scallops and Bollocks for Tea, and the "tape" portion was made with Nintendo Entertainment System VST instruments and a recreated sample of the first ever computer-generated music: a snippet of the Colonel Bogey March performed by an Australian computer known as CSIRAC. It is Fun.
My next blog entry and newsletter is bound to be all about recordings. Hopefully by the end of the week, I'll have a video from Monday's terrific performance of Tesla's Pigeon in New York. (Jess had to wipe away tears at the end of her performance, which made me realize I was feeling quite verklempt myself. This only reinforces my belief that the true underlying goal of every composer should be tears.)

Also, very soon we should be able to upload a recording of Scallops and Bollocks for Tea (see above) from Tuesday night: Network for New Music (god, we are so lucky to have such a great organization in Philly) arranged for Paul Arnold from the Philadelphia Orchestra to record it, with the incomparable Eugene Lew from Penn providing his recording services. Despite being magnificently talented and in-demand, the two of them astonished me with their generosity; they actually volunteered extra time to get the piece just right. And they're two of the nicest people I think I know. I really can't speak highly enough of them. Here's a quick shot of the recording session from Matt's iPhone:

Paul Arnold plays Scallops and Bollocks for Tea


Oh, also:
  • Tesla's Pigeon is being recorded by Jess and the Curtis Symphony Orchestra next week*
  • I had a choir piece I finished last year recorded recently by Matt Curtis at ChoralTracks (who incidentally was in Chanticleer when they sang What do you think I fought for at Omaha Beach?) and I will put that up pretty soon
  • The same piece is quite probably being performed/recorded by another choir in June
  • Omaha Beach is being recorded by a major choir for a CD release
Recordings everywhere!

But I can't celebrate for too long. I have a goddamn opera to finish AYNAYNAYNAYNAYNAYN (This works fairly well as an ululation of anguish, actually.)

*Incidentally, I have completely run out of  Tesla's Pigeon CD's thanks to the recent wildly successful Tesla's Pigeon Takes Manhattan Kickstarter. As in, I do not even have an archival copy to keep for myself. Good thing this recording gives me a good excuse to reissue with both versions, piano-vocal and orchestral.

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Monday, April 08, 2013

Crass "How Does It Feel to Be the Mother of 1000 Dead?" (1983)

I long to write choral music with lyrics like this. Punk rock choral. Why the fuck not? The choral community would have conniptions.


When you woke this morning, you looked so rocky-eyed,
blue and white normally, but strange ringed like that in black.
It doesn't get much better, your voice can just get ripped up shouting in vain,
maybe someone hears what you say, but you're still on your own at night.
You've got to make some noise to understand the silence,
screaming like a jackass, ringing ears so you can't hear the silence even when it's there,
like the wind seen from the window, seeing it, but not being touched by it.

HOW DOES IT FEEL?

How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand dead?
Young boys rest now, cold graves in cold earth.
How does it feel to be the mother of a thousand dead?
Sunken eyes, lost now; empty sockets in futile death.


Your arrogance has gutted these bodies of life.
Your deceit fooled them that it was worth the sacrifice.
Your lies persuaded people to accept the wasted blood.
Your filthy pride cleansed you of the doubt you should have had.
You smile in the face of death 'cause you are so proud and vain,
Your inhumanity stops you from realizing the pain
That you inflicted, you determined, you created, you ordered -
It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.

You never wanted peace or solution.
From the start you lusted for war and destruction.
Your blood-soaked reason ruled out other choices.
Your mockery gagged more moderate voices.
So keen to play your bloody part, so impatient that your war be fought,
Iron Lady with your stone heart so eager that the lesson be taught
That you inflicted, you determined, you created, you ordered -
It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.

****

Throughout our history you and your kind
Have stolen the young bodies of the living
To be twisted and torn in filthy war.
What right have you to defile those births?
What right have you to devour that flesh?
What right to spit on hope with the gory madness
That you inflicted, you determined, you created, you ordered -
It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.

****

You accuse us of disrespect for the dead,
But it was you who slaughtered out of national pride.
Just how much did you care? What respect did you have
As you sent those bodies to their communal grave?
You buried them rough-handed, they'd given you their all,
That once living flesh defiled in the hell
That you inflicted, you determined, you created, you ordered -
It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.

You use those deaths to achieve your ends still,
Using the corpses as a moral blackmail.
You say, "Think of what those young men gave,"
As you try to bind us in your living death,
Yet we do think of them, ice cold and silent
In the snow-covered moorlands, stopped by the violence
That you inflicted, you determined, you created, you ordered -
It was your decision to have those young boys slaughtered.

****

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - We don't want your fucking war!
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - We don't want your fucking war!
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - We don't want your fucking war!
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - You can stuff your fucking war!

Thirty years old, still topical, even when the subject is dead.

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Saturday, March 16, 2013

Not a productive week. But neat anyway.

I scrapped a whole section of music in Ayn earlier this week because I decided it sounded stupid. The thought of rewriting left me despondent, so this has not been the most productive week, Ayn-wise. Annoying. I'm very anxious to complete it, but I when I get like this, I can't turn the inspiration on like a tap. The whole thing is not quite half done (in short score). Not quite. If I can get it half done by the end of this month, I'll be ... on the way to being happy with myself. Really, I should have had half of it done by the end of last semester, but my seasonal depression was a lumbering inspiration-eating bear that refused to hibernate for most of past few months.

Things that were neat about this week:

Thanks to a tip on a blog post by Michael Swanwick, I bought an original illustration from Tess Kissinger, and since they live only about 15 blocks away from us, we got to pick it up in person and meet her and Bob Walters. The famed paleoartists let Matt and I hang out for a bit in their sweet two-storey backyard studio, which is basically a geek paradise full of dinosaur models and casts, and also battle armor, and a drumkit, and science fiction art, and a cat. We couldn't stop yakking to each other, so we're going back for brunch soon.

Here's Tess's illustration, along with a couple of postcards showcasing a mural they did for the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, replete with dinodoodles by Bob.


Stuff from Bob Walters and Tess Kissinger

And Matt in a helmet with Tess and Bob:

  Matt in a helmet with Tess and Bob

Another cool discovery: a new Facebook friend alerted me to the existence of a new venture called Choral Tracks, started by a singer who was a member of Chanticleer when they performed the West Coast premiere of What do you think I fought for at Omaha Beach? last year. He charges extremely reasonable rates to create live-sung renditions of choral music, with which you can do exactly as you please (unlike the backward Musicians' Union, who are stuck in an era when recorded music was a lucrative commodity rather than a promotional tool). Hello. Exactly what I need for new choral compositions, since I'm not convinced EW Symphonic Choirs is worth it, and also I'd rather have demos sung by a human being on principle.



Social networking for the win. Not just good for promoting; also good for having useful services promoted to you. I will report in a few weeks when the recording is done.

This evening, I'll be playing my viola in concert for the first time in well over a year with the Penn Symphony. I've had eight hours of orchestra rehearsal and sectionals this week, which is far more playing than this slacker is used to doing, as evidenced by my aching left shoulder, but oddly enough, even as I was groaning to go home at the end of last night's dress rehearsal, I was thinking very seriously about how much I enjoy this, and how maybe I should keep this up. God, I love viola. Viola is the shit. Maybe I wouldn't love it so much if I had turned out to be a violist instead of a composer, but every time I come back to it, I feel so grateful that I play it, and for everything the viola has taught me about music. I've played violin, and I've played cello, and they are not nearly as satisfying. There's a reason why so many of the best composers preferred viola (Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Dvorak, Schubert, Respighi, Vaughan-Williams, etc.); the best harmony and orchestration lessons I ever got were in viola sections -- and come to think of it, I'd wager that the further back I sit, the better I learn, because the violists in the back desk are literally right in the middle of the orchestra, weaving their inner harmonies into the texture while hearing everything else from all sides.

Penn Symphony at 8PM, Irvine Auditorium.

I'm still sitting on news items I can't reveal yet.

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Sunday, March 10, 2013

Eat, Compose, Love

Bless me, Blogger, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last entry.

Right this instant I am exhausted.

At long last, for about a month now, I have had only one project on my plate: Ayn. I have been on this earth for nearly 33 years, and this singularity of purpose is unprecedented. But for some stupid reason, I feel more tired for it. Perhaps, with less noise, I am able to feel the accumulated weariness for the first time. In any case, I'm making progress on the opera — slow progress, but progress nevertheless — but when the notes come out sounding like garbage because my brain has run out of juice for the day, I find myself totally confused and lost by the lack of other items on my to-do list. I pace around mindlessly like a broken Roomba. I don't think I've ever dealt with feeling like this before. It's an experiment.

A couple of old projects have managed to demand my attention recently, however. The most notable news is that Tesla's Pigeon will be performed in New York City next month, thanks to this wildly successful ongoing kickstarter campaign I launched ten days ago:



It's a little overwhelming to receive so much support from friends near and far — and even a few total strangers. And since the campaign also introduces my current project publicly, the pressure is on for Ayn. I have expectations to fulfill, theirs and mine.

Meanwhile, the Tesla's Pigeon concert will be at 7:30PM on April 22 at Christ & Saint Stephens Church. I'll post more about it closer to the date.

Then, exactly a week later, Jess and the Curtis Symphony will record my orchestration of Tesla's Pigeon, which I was feverishly arranging when I wrote my last blog entry. I'm pretty excited to hear it played, even if it does create some non-Ayn noise in my head. I spent rather too much time in January learning how to bind books so I could make a hardcover score, which kicks some serious arse over the spiral binding that is the standard:

Matt (with the flu) opens my very first hardcover bound score - Tesla's Pigeon for soprano and orchestra

^^ These are also available as a reward on the Kickstarter campaign.

This afternoon, the Kennett Symphony Orchestra and Children's Chorus will give the second of two children's concerts featuring my brand spanking new revision of Jack and the Beanstalk at my alma mater West Chester University; last summer, I tore into the first edition, ripped out and abridged some movements, interpolated some new songs (including the most ridiculously catchy number I've ever written in my life, "These Beans"), added some lyrics to existing instrumental melodies, and rearranged the whole thing for chamber orchestra. It's shorter, but I think it's way better. Judging from the post-performance reactions last week, the kids seem to enjoy it, which is about the best compliment a composer can get; kids that young are unabashedly honest, and they're difficult to fool. Of course, everyone is nuts over "These Beans," but unfortunately, I can't let you hear a recording because of the stipulations of the Musician's Union. I might have some choice words on that matter in a later post.

Captain Samuels Speaks to the Sea! made its UK debut in February at the Two Rivers Festival, the first time any piece of mine has been performed over the pond as far as I know. I am surprisingly proud of that piece. I started listening to it the other day and found myself quite liking it, and I played it all the way through, good heavens. I know that sounds a bit batty, but I don't do much playback of my finished pieces because I start to pick at them and want to change them, and I'd rather write new stuff.



On a non-musical note, last month Matt and I got the results of our DNA test from 23andMe. If you have $99 to spare, I highly recommend it; fascinating stuff, especially for someone like me descended from immigrants who tend to leave the past behind and have no interest in genealogy. As far as recent ethnic background is concerned, I didn't find out anything I didn't already know: my mother is a Chinese as they come, and my father is as Greek as they come. The only surprise was 2% Italian heritage on my father's side, which really isn't all that surprising at all. Of more interest is the data from further back: I have 3.1% Neanderthal DNA, which puts me in the 98th percentile. I thought this was pretty badass until Matt looked at his DNA profile: he has 3.2% Neanderthal DNA, placing him in the 99th percentile. That's about as close as we come to being related.

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Sunday, January 06, 2013

Orchestrating Tesla's Pigeon, Part 2

I took the day off today. Matt and I ran errands and visited Philly Electric Wheels to try out one of their new electric bikes I've been eyeing up to replace my old clunky 68-pound eZip*. I would like to get back into commuting on two wheels (hopefully without being physically attacked or hit by a car) because I am quite possibly the most unfit able-bodied person on the planet. Like, I test-rode the bike -- an electric pedal assist bike -- for maybe two blocks and back, and now my quads hurt. What.

This week has reminded me why I procrastinate so heavily before working on a composition. It takes over everything. I lost five pounds in five days because I forgot to eat and my brain was burning fuel overtime. I forgot how to interact with people. I slept poorly, woke early, and went straight from my bed to my office like a zombie. I neglected my husband. I let some of my plants die. I didn't do any housework.

Instead, I threw together a 55-page orchestral score. Thank god for Sibelius keyboard shortcuts; even as good as I am with them, the wrist on my mouse hand is sore. Yesterday I tried to take a break. Do something else! my body screamed at me. You cannot sustain this level of focus! What I ended up doing was cutting some 100lb paper to 10 by 13 inches in order to eventually print parts on them, and after about an hour of guillotining, I went back to working on the score.

Today I finally tore myself away, and now I don't want to go back for a while. But I'm seeing my teacher on Thursday, so I'm sure that will suck me back in to endless tweaking and formatting, and I'll have ECU tendonitis before you know it.

Speaking of Tesla, tomorrow I have to get up at the crack of dawn and drive myself and my long-suffering husband to the New Yorker Hotel in Manhattan for the inaugural Tesla Memorial Conference. Tesla's star sure is on the rise, and it's neat that I'm apparently a part of that. I'm giving a short talk at the 5:00PM session, but I'll be hanging around all day. Hey, maybe they'll let me go in his old room.

Oh, by the way, there are some moments in the orchestration which I am REALLY REALLY happy about. The Wagnerian harmonies in song VII are going to sound so freaking boss on brass, and song VI was basically written for harp; I barely had to make any adjustments (although those adjustments took forever, because I had to remember how harp pedaling works).

Of course, the *real* reason I'm working this hard is because I'm procrastinating Ayn. Sigh.

* The Fast4Ward Edge, if you're interested. This would be the most expensive bike I've ever owned by a factor of 5.

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Thursday, January 03, 2013

Orchestrating Tesla's Pigeon

I've been talking idly about arranging Tesla's Pigeon for orchestra for a long time. Ever since writing it, I've clearly known which instruments are supposed to be playing each line. Maybe this has something to do with what a crap pianist I am; even when I'm writing for piano, I'm not really writing for piano.

Anyway, I started by sitting down this weekend with this awesome score of the Ravel orchestration of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition that I found in my room. I have no idea how it got there -- did someone give it to me? Did I buy it one day knowing I'd need it? At any rate, I pulled it out along with the piano score, only to discover that BY GOD these Eulenburg geniuses have included the original piano in the orchestral score for reference. Modern convenience. So great. Thank you, whatever unseen force put this score on my shelf.

The solstice is past, and I can feel my body and brain slowly turning toward the spring and seeing light at the end of a seasonally depressed tunnel. It's been a nasty slump this winter. The one "good" thing about depression is that it sometimes precipitates very intense emotional reactions -- to music, for example. So long as I'm not out in public or trying to drive straight, I appreciate them. I listened to Pictures at an Exhibition by myself with my handy Eulenburg Edition score on Sunday, and by the time I walked past the Great Gate of Kiev, I had completely lost it. I was literally sobbing. Sobbing! I mean, sure, I love that piece. I played it with QYO back in the day, and most of the pieces I played in my mid-teens made a huge impression. But: heaving sobs ... I haven't had that happen during a piece since I accidentally caught the Alpine Symphony on NPR back in 2008. Funnily enough, I played that with QYO too. Probably something to be said about that.

God, Ravel is good.

My hope is that I will have it orchestrated by the time school starts next week, and that the Curtis Orchestra will read it this semester. With Jess Lennick on pipes, naturally. I've made a cracking start: all the main stuff has been parceled out to the appropriate instruments, and now I just have to embroider. Oh, and create parts, I guess. Ugh.

I am heading to bed with this Eulenberg score. It's even a convenient bed-reading size. Such a fan.

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