For not terribly compelling reasons, I am trying to get my score for My Name is Richard Rozen printed and published semi-professionally. When I wrote the music a year ago, I didn’t put much effort into typesetting the sheet music properly, because I would be the one performing the work, and honestly I had a lot of it memorized anyway. Now I’m paying the price in hours spent poring over the manuscript, tweaking margins and spacing, adjusting page breaks, and adding rehearsal letters. Figuring out the right way to format copyright information has also been a burden.
In all of this, I take for granted how nice it is to have a tool like Sibelius. Even then, I still feel like I’m cheating the age-old art of music printing.
I have to write a piece for flute, horn, and percussion by early August. Effectively, by August 1. Let this be my written commitment to getting it done. I’ll get it done if it kills me. The creative process has me on my knees at the moment, but I know that as long as I hack and toil away at the notes, they will arrange themselves in some acceptable fashion on the page. Keep producing.
It’s been over three years since I last opined here. It is troubling to think about how much time has passed, since I don’t think I’ve been particularly productive as a musician since then. In that time, I’ve written essentially just two pieces and who knows how many 8-bar phrases of vapid melody that will never make it farther than the inside pages of my sketchbook.
The first piece was an andante for horn and piano, which may be my only mature work at this point, and the second exists more as a short suite: incidental music for a small play performed in Palo Alto.
Let’s hope this is all just par for the course in the evolution of a distracted artist. Anyway, this is what I look like now, after three years of withdrawal from the blogosphere:
To the longtime readers, I owe a listening recommendation. For an accessible modern composer, check out Allan Stephenson and his Concerto for English Horn.
The No. 3 (C-minor) etude from Rachmaninoff‘s first set of Études-Tableaux, Op. 33 was omitted from the original publication and released posthumously. I haven’t read anything that explains why, but it probably has something to do with one of its melodies making an appearance in his fourth piano concerto, written some fifteen years later. Continue reading Just Add Orchestra
There’s something about a composer’s fifth. Beethoven, Prokofiev, Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich, Bruckner, Mahler, Sibelius. All of their fifth symphonies have become somewhat defining in their legacy as composers and are the pieces we’re told to approach first if not yet familiar with their music. They remain some of the most performed symphonies in the repertoire, and they all boast daunting, large-scale forms. Continue reading There’s Something About a Fifth Symphony
Sergei Rachmaninoff is remembered for the Paganini rhapsody, the two middle concertos, a prelude in C-sharp minor, and sometimes, a vocalise. The portrait painted by this “Best Of” compilation is of a man who procured steadfast melodies and unrelenting sentimentality till the day he died. Beyond these works too, you won’t find much that deviates from this pattern. Relatively speaking, he didn’t have eras or periods of stylistic evolution like, say, Stravinsky. Continue reading What Rachmaninoff Did for Russian Music
So as I said I would, I finally got around to evaluating the claim that Joel McNeely‘s score to the novel and video game Shadows of the Empire “borrows” plainly and unashamedly from the ballet The Quest by 20th century British composer William Walton. Continue reading McNeely Borrowed from Walton
As one who adores the larger canine breeds, I felt compelled to make good on my recent tweet by providing proper visual aid. To be fair, the photograph makes no effort to establish the owner relationship between the two subjects, but as I tweeted, it’s darn cute. Continue reading Rachmaninoff Had a Dog
Not everyone is familiar with the installment of the Star Wars franchise titled Shadows of the Empire, but that’s mostly because it was a video game and never made it to the big screen. Nonetheless, it deserves some recognition among video games for its use of a fully orchestrated, studio recorded, original soundtrack composed by film and TV composer Joel McNeely. Continue reading Ravel, An Inspiration to Joel McNeely
There’s something special about the fifth scale degree of the tonic (major) key when raised a half-step. Granted, there’s something special about every non-key pitch in a tonal system, but what really captivates me about the flat six is its affective power in a Romantic context. Take a minute to listen to this excerpt: what do you feel when you hear the horn make its solo entrance above the sustained bassoon and strings? Continue reading The Magical Raised Fifth (or Flat Six)