Last Saturday was an amazing and elating day for my career. I approached the premiere of my piece Tableaus with mixed emotions. I was never worried about the players getting it right and playing it well. I was just thinking about the heavy (although arbitrary) meaning placed upon this piece as a “dissertation piece.” Setting aside my constant bewilderment of the fact that there is actually a place in academia for creative works to be composed, premiered and discussed combined with the feelings of quasi-guilt that from actually collecting money the past years of my life by doing what seems natural to me. Well, kind of natural. When it comes down to it. It is actually really hard for me, to, you know “compose.” The fun outweighs the difficulty though. Anyway, setting that all aside, I am very conscious of the fact that the insulation of the academic environment (i.e. having professionals on hand to play your music, with professionals on hand to offer you genuine criticism, with a modest stipend that supports your habit, etc.) is going to be brutally stripped away from me in a few months. I become acutely aware of this as I continue to hear radio silence on the several job applications for what? You guessed it: academic jobs. I am trying to push this dream further into some other insulated environment. As disheartening as this is, what is more baffling to me is that I am without any ideas for my next compositional project and I am itching to write something again. So, in a fatalistic (i.e. unrealistic) error of thinking I say to myself: “This is it, this may be the last composition I write.” This was the baggage I brought to this premiere concert. On top of that, I was going off of little sleep and trying to keep my wits together since I was “the guy” that put the whole concert together from the ground up. Thank goodness for awesome colleagues like Peter Van Zandt Lane, Richard Chowenhill and Victoria Cheah for shouldering a lot of the burdens of such a huge concert that one guy simply cannot do. And I can’t even begin to say thank you to Laci, who fills the role of single mom and understanding wife beyond my comprehension. She is why I can even come close to amounting to anything.
After an amazing concert came this even more amazing realization. People care and we should care too. There were a lot of friends and even some family (a surprise visit from my Dad, who lives in Arizona and my cousin Dwayne) who came to this concert. My wife Laci should take all the credit for trumping this concert up a lot more than my modesty can muster. She got people out to this concert. She made it a big deal. And, it actually kind of was a big deal. The whole time I thought this was just another piece, but in the back of my mind I realized that this was also the piece that would end my “student era” and begin my “professional era.” It was what stood in the interstitial and uncomfortable space I spoke of earlier, where I felt that these were my last notes in complete comfort. For the first time in my many years (ever since high school) of writing music, I actually felt a real sense of accomplishment. Tableaus seems to genuinely capture who I am as a person and artist and I shared in this triumph with those who have mentored, supported and loved me throughout this journey.
A metaphor that I have turned to throughout this past year seems to capture my situation (and many that I know) in the most accurate way. When spending your whole life studying music composition in the comfort and insulation of the academic institution you are not prepared at all for what happens next. I feel that in exchange for my diploma I have to hand over the warm coat they (the institution) has given me all these years, to walk away naked thumbing my way to whomever or whatever will validate what I have done to allow me to do more. I know it is bleak, but it is what I am experiencing to be real. But, then, I realized something. Upon reflecting of the incredible outpouring of support that followed an equally incredible performance, I realized that I have actually had another warm coat this whole time. It is stitched together by all of the loving friends and family that believe in what I do without wholly understanding, the influence and encouragement of professors and teachers and of course, by my own hand: the belief that what I do is relevant and important. I may have to thumb some rides to the next destination but I will always be warm. So, was Tableaus my last piece? No, but the very threat of it being the last is enough for me to cherish each flash of creativity that comes to me from here on out.
With that being said, I have updated the LSTN page and the VIDS page with the brand spanking new recording and video of Tableaus for percussion quartet and digital playback. Clicking on this will give you the full score so you can follow along. Talujon knocked it out of the park. It was a sensational performance and I hope you get a chance to listen to it. Just a guide to the listening. Here is a breakdown of the movements and where each one falls in the sound/video file:
I. ephemera (0’00″, of course)
II. the persistence of…(2’30″)
–attacca–
interlude (9’11″)
–attacca–
III.Berceuse (12’06″)
IV. Automatonomnomnom (18’11″)
And, my program notes:
In this piece I draw from many eclectic resources (cultural and musical) that have been surrounding me throughout the compositional process. The first movement acts as an introduction where the music, upon near materialization, disappears into the ether. The second movement is almost like a perpetual mobile that keeps churning uninterrupted until it physically and acoustically reaches its limits. This limitation in the acoustic instruments is taken by the electronic sounds that give us a temporary respite from the acoustic world into something (interlude) that is seemingly “extra terrestrial.” The berceuse (third movement) tries to embody that interstitial space between dreams and lucidity. It also comes from a hallucinogenic experience I had as a boy when my mom gave me Tavist-D for the flu. The last movement purposefully abandons the world of pitched instruments and returns, in a way, to a sort of primal bacchanal with the appropriation of dubstep drum patterns as the major rhythmic component. I also use the voice of Alex from the Mac computer to say the word “automaton.” In a way “Automatonomnomnom” is both a play on the mindlessness that surrounds us in this world at an ever quickening (and maddening) pace and an homage to my favorite thing to do when not composing: eating treats (thanks Cookie Monster). This piece is dedicated to Laci and Berkeley. My two shining stars who unfailingly guide and inspire me.
