Let My Song Take Wing – Choral Commission

I am currently working on a choral commission (SAB voicing) with the Independence High School Choirs, here in Glendale, AZ. Their spring concert theme this school year is music derived from literature, and includes some fun music! This has been a really fun project, and if you’d like to be a part of it, please reach out!

I, of course, am a huge fan of poetry, and in particular have been reading a lot of Emily Dickinson over the last year. I am fascinated by her use of natural imagery and her more existential and romantic poems. I also find it amusing that most of her poems can be sung to the tune of the Pokemon theme song (“Because I could not stop for Death” will never sound quite the same, to me!)!

I have chosen a setting of two of her poems related to art and music. Both “If I can stop one heart from breaking” and “I shall keep singing!” have been set by many composers, and so my goal is to find a way to say something new with both texts – something I think I have successfully done. These poems are of particular interest in Dickinson’s oeuvre: they do not follow the typical metric and rhyme schemes she used. And so, I have freely adapted the text, and added my own to the bridge. The full lyrics, as they are currently, are shown below.

Verse 1:
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
then I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
or if I can cool one pain.

Or help one fainting robin
unto his nest again,
then as long as I keep singing,
I shall not sing in vain

Chorus:
I shall keep singing!
I shall keep singing!
I shall keep singing!

Verse 2:

Birds will pass me
on their way to Yellower Climes.
Each, with a Robin’s expectation,
I with my Redbreast and my Rhymes.

When I take my place in summer,
I shall bring a fuller tune.
Vespers are sweeter than Matins,
Morning, the seed of Noon.

Chorus:
I shall keep singing!
I shall keep singing!
I shall keep singing!

Bridge:
So let my song take wing,
beyond the fleeting day,
carried on the quiet air,
where silence melts away!

Chorus:
I shall keep singing!
I shall keep singing!
I shall keep singing!

Verse 1:
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
then I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
or if I can cool one pain.

Or help one fainting robin
unto his nest again,
then as long as I keep singing,
I shall not sing in vain.

Outro (a capella, repeat ad lib. and fade out):
I shall keep singing!

Musically, the song is in the pops/Broadway style. I very much admire such music, though I rarely write it!

The music is rhythmically syncopated, with the dotted quarter, dotted quarter, quarter rhythmic motive heard throughout. Many of the musical lines start off of the beat, as well.

The opening of the first verse, showing the syncopated start to each line of the text.

The music is in F major, and stays in the range of an octave and a fourth (C4-F5 in soprano, C4-C5 in alto, and C3-D4 in baritone), and generally stays within an octave. Leaps and the high registers are used sparingly. There is an optional ad libitum soprano solo.

I am also inspired by non-functional harmony and the chord loops heard in many popular genres of music over the last century – particularly those heard in grunge, punk, and pop punk musics. While this music is in none of those styles, the harmonies are derived from those worlds – double suspensions, reverse circle of fifths progressions, etc. For example, an important chord progression in this tune is Fmaj-Ebmaj-Bbmaj-Fmaj.

The Fmaj-Ebmaj-Bbmaj-Fmaj progression, heard throughout the piece. Beat 4 of m. 74 and beat 1 of m. 75 have passing tones in the upper voice. The sharp 11 over the Ebmaj chord in that voicing is similar to the Viennese Trichord, which is rare in popular musics, but common in mine!

The bass notes of typical tonal harmonic progressions move counterclockwise around the circle of fifths (for example, a ii-V-I in F moves, with bass notes, G-C-F). The progression I use moves clockwise instead – with bass motion of F-Eb-Bb, before returning to F. Because of the bass voice motion in fourths, theorists call this a double plagal cadence; and, it is very common in popular music of the last century. I make extensive use of it in my music.

The circle of fifths is shown to follow bass note motion either clockwise or counterclockwise.

The bridge uses a very common progression, known as a line cliche. In a line cliche, one voice of a chord moves down in half steps. The others may or may not move around it. It leads nicely to a V7/V – V7 at the end, setting us up for the finale. It’s not how I typically approach writing such sections (I rather like the Sears-Robuck bridge, or some variant of IV-I-V-I-IV-I-V/V-V), but I like the elegant voice leading here.

An example of the line cliche used, in F major.

Katie Sweeney, the director who is leading this commission, also noted that the beginning of the chorus bears some resemblance to “Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty. I greatly admire his music.

Katie Sweeney compares this to the opening motive of “Free Fallin'” by Tom Petty. The composer is flattered by the comparison!

The Tuberculosis Verses

I recently read John Green’s new book Everything is Tuberculosis. In this book, he describes the tragically short life of the Japanese poet, Masaoka Shiki. Masaoka, who revived the poetic forms of haiku and tanka in the late nineteenth century, died an agonizing death from tuberculosis in his mid 30s. His poems are both beautiful and haunting, with vivid imagery and rich symbolism.

Inspired by both Masaoka and Green, I’ve begun work on a piece for oboe and vibraphone based on Masaoka’s work.

The seven selected poems feature his despair and suffering, including imagery of snow and luffa plants. Each is being written into a movement of music, with the tentative title The Tuberculosis Verses. I intend the whole work to be about 10 minutes in length. The oboe-vibraphone duo is a beautiful, but unfortunately under-explored, medium in chamber music, and this will be my (first) contribution to the genre.

If you’re interested in joining the project, or know of someone who would be, please reach out via the Google Form link here! Click this link for a preview of movements 1-5.

outline of the seven movements, including the poem for each one in Japanese, with freely-adapted English translation

A Week in the Life #6

Here are some things which have been occupying me musically and personally over the last week.

The Busy Season

Musically, it is the busy season! Publishers are putting out their new catalogs, and starting to accept new works. In that vein, I have one band (I’ll expand on that one below) and one strings work in progress. It is also marching band season, and I have two marching shows I am arranging – one with a theme of celebrating Chicano music and culture; and the other with a weather theme. I am learning a ton about writing for battery and front ensemble; integrating work with other folks, who choreograph the shows, and my contractor for writing percussion parts; and even some styles for arranging jazz, a la Basie.

I recently read John Green’s new book “Everything is Tuberculosis.” In this book, he describes the tragically short life of the Japanese poet, Masaoka Shiki. Shiki, who revived the poetic forms of haiku and tanka in the late nineteenth century, died an agonizing death from tuberculosis in his mid 30s. His poems are both beautiful and haunting, with vivid imagery and rich symbolism.

Inspired by both Shiki and Green, I’ve begun work on a piece for oboe and vibraphone based on Shiki’s work. The seven selected poems feature his despair and suffering, including imagery of snow and luffa plants. Each is being written into a movement of music, with the tentative title “The Tuberculosis Verses.” I intend the whole work to be about 10 minutes in length. The oboe-vibraphone duo is a beautiful, but unfortunately under-explored, medium in chamber music, and this will be my (first) contribution to the genre. If you’re interested in joining the project, or know of someone who would be, please reach out!

Sonemoia – a neologism

The band work in progress, with the tentative title “Petroglyphs,” will be about a grade 1 to 1.5 work which is somber in nature. Inspired by petroglyphs found in Arizona, and those I viewed recently in Joshua Tree National Park, I found myself lacking the words to describe precisely the emotions I felt viewing these artifacts from 2000 years ago. “The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows,” penned by neologist John Koenig, offers two words which are close – sonder and anemoia.

Sonder is the feeling that everyone around you lives a life as rich and complex as your own, that you can never truly know. Everyone, including the stranger you pass on the street and the person that lives on the other side of the planet, lives a life full of love, hope, grief, regret, and the rest of the full spectrum of what it means to be human – they work hard, love their friends and family, and do the best they can. It’s a profound feeling, and it reminds us we have more in common with everyone than we think. Indeed, the world might be a nicer place if we all remembered to imagine each other complexly.

Anemoia is nostalgia for a time one can never know. I certainly felt this when seeing the Joshua Tree petroglyphs, but the feeling was more complex. As I stood before the petroglyphs, I was struck not just by the artistic marks themselves, but by the people behind them. Their joys, fears, dreams, and disappointments are lost to time, but their marks remain—silent yet deeply human. As we are separated by time, I wonder what stories, jokes, and music their culture might have had, and in some sense feel a sense of loss that these are all lost to time. And I wonder what from our time will be lost to future generations.

So with the help of ChatGPT, I coined a new word: sonemoia. A portmanteau of sonder and anemoia, sonemoia represents the wistful, aching awareness that others—whether distant in geography or history—have lived lives as real as ours, full of laughter, sorrow, and longing. It is the grief of never knowing their stories, and the hope that our own will one day be seen with the same reverence. In a world that too often flattens others into enemies or footnotes, sonemoia is a call to imagine more deeply, feel more widely, and remember more kindly.

This post gives the definition for the neologism "sonemoia." A portmanteau of the words sonder and anemoia, this new noun describes " The wistful, aching awareness that every person—living or long gone—carries a world of memories, dreams, and losses you’ll never know; a nostalgia for the imagined inner lives of others, tinged with a yearning that your own life, too, might one day be remembered in kind."

Pronounced SOHN-uh-moi-uh.

A Week in the Life #5

Here are some things which have been occupying me musically and personally over the last week.

This week’s post will continue the discussion of techniques in my work Leviathan. Personally, life goes on much as it has. I’m grateful to have lots of time to write and be home with my dogs. The first notes of the #2024saxophoneproject are on the page. There is still time to join! I’m working on this with my composition teacher.

Feel the shimmering heat of the desert southwest? Draft of mm. 1-4 of *Poem for the American Southwest.*

On with Leviathan (click here for the full recording).

Technique #4 – Extended Techniques
I would hardly be a good modern composer if I didn’t take advantage of the range of sounds which can be performed on the instruments I write for! Just a few from Leviathan include the absence of meter, the use of a metal scraping implement in the piano, indeterminate notation in the piccolo and cello, the use of boxed cells which are freely repeated, forearm and palm clusters in the piano, and alternative bowing techniques for the cello. In the examples below, time is indicated by the number of seconds each bar should last (approximately).

Box notation and free meter, along with piano extended techniques. *Leviathan*, mm. 48-50.

Technique #5 – Structured Improvisation
Structured improvisation gives a loose framework around which the creativity of the performer takes precedence. In my case, a mix of pre-written and improvised materials make up a significant portion of the work, with solo cadenzas for each instrument, punctuated with violent stabs from the piano.

The third of the cadenzas in *Leviathan*, mm. 89-96. Brilliantly performed in the premiere recording.

Technique #6 – Collage/Quotation
Why do I call my music metamodern? In a sense it is because I use techniques of both modern and postmodern composers with a mix of sincerity and irony. This is a technique used by postmodern composers – mixing in pre-existing music in new and exciting ways. Leviathan ends with quotes of two hymns, one by Bach, the other the familiar Old 100th. The battle march which begins the section is a not-so-subtle not to Holst as well. See if you can find other references hidden in the music (full performance video with score).

*Leviathan*, mm. 97-105, contains references to Holst and Bach.

*Leviathan*, mm. 120-122, rhythmically transforms the *Old 100th*, one of my favorite hymns.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this brief insight into my composing, and thank you/shout out to Josh Trentadue for the fantastic engraving work he did. Check out his website.

Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments!

Written 2/16/24

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A Poem for the American Southwest

the slow arc of the sun
mercury ever rising, rising
above purple mountain skyscrapers

the heat shimmers,
a mirage on the desert floor,
the saguaro stand defiantly

a rural dirt highway
through a ghost town’s ruins
what once was silver is now dust and brick

the monsoon erases
the old day’s haboob,
floods of dirty water bring the desert life

in the highlands now
the sun sets the once piercing blue sky ablaze
soon the Sonoran will come to life

a billion stars shine in the twilight
it is the time of the coyote, the javelina,
underneath the Milky Way

#2024saxophoneproject