The Christmas CD You Gotta Have!
(11 Dec, 2007)
Dan writes:
If your Christmas shopping is not yet completed, let me introduce you to a new CD which is in "heavy rotation" at the Gawthrop house this season. It's called "Classical Carols" and features pianist Jeffrey Biegel in a set of traditional carols which have been masterfully and very cleverly intertwined with items from the standard classical repertoire. The playing and recording are both superb, but the real strength of this collection lies in the fresh and delightfully imaginative arrangements concocted by Carolyne M. Taylor. In each of the twenty-one tracks heard on this disc Ms. Taylor begins with a well-known classical melody, things like Debussy's Clair de Lune, Beethoven's 'Pathetique' Sonata, and Sinding's Rustles of Spring, and then morphs them into a familiar Christmas carol.
This would make a great gift for both musical and non-musical folks, so stock up on the perfect stocking stuffer. You can hear some mp3 excerpts and order the disc here.
And here is the rest of the story…
After hearing this disc I immediately wanted to find out whether these arrangements are published, so I dutifully googled the name of the arranger, Carolyne M. Taylor. She has, indeed, published two volumes of these pieces and her publisher's website also gave a brief biography. I was stunned to learn the Ms. Taylor resides in Winchester, Virginia. I, too, live in Winchester, Virginia!
I called her up. She is a gracious and kindly individual who professed to be flattered by my babbling on and on about her original and effective arrangements. She kindly offered to send me an autographed copy of one of the books and I was not too proud to accept.
Several days later, while waiting in line to send a package at the post office, I heard a clerk in another line say to someone, "Well, you can mail it if you want, but Mr. Gawthrop is standing right there." She then pointed at me. And that was when I got to meet Carolyne in the flesh! Rather than mailing her thoughtful gift, she simply handed it to me. Truly, the world is smaller and more wonderful than we know.
dg
My Excellent Adventure
(30 Apr, 2007)
Dan writes:
Currently the largest playing musical instrument in the world and the first pipe organ ever to be designated a National Historic Landmark, the Grand Court Organ in what used to be Wanamaker's Department Store in Philadelphia (now a Macy's store), is impressive for listeners and terrifying for organists. The massive console, larger than an SUV and far more attractive, controls about 466 ranks of pipes. It has six manuals (keyboards) plus a pedalboard and seven enormous blowers totaling 168 horsepower to supply wind to its tens of thousands of pipes. The very considerable expenses associated with keeping such a behemoth in good repair and in tune led to a period of more than twenty years during which whole divisions of the organ were allowed to go silent. Recently, however, due to a combination of fund raising, much effort by the Friends of the Wanamaker Organ, a resurgence of interest in the organs of this period and a few other serendipities, remarkable strides have been made toward restoring this unique instrument to its former glory.
It would be tempting to think of the Wanamaker organ as simply an excess or an indulgence, but no one who has heard it under the hands of a skilled performer since its restoration would agree. It possesses a variety of tonal colors and range of dynamics unequalled by any instrument now playing (it might be challenged by the famous organ of Atlantic City's Boardwalk Hall, but as that even larger instrument has been shamefully neglected by civic authorities until it is almost completely unplayable, we won't really know until it, too, receives the restoration it deserves). Oddly, the massive power of this instrument is never strident or harsh, but it can literally make you catch your breath. On the other extreme, the endless variety of extremely quiet combinations makes even folks who don't normally think of themselves as fans of organ music listen closely, bewitched by the profusion of sensuous effects.
I just spent two days in the Macy's store during which I heard three different recitals on the organ and I must say that any attempt I might make to convey the staggering effect of this monumental instrument in words would be utterly fruitless. Four organists played selections during these recitals and such are the resources available to them that they might have been playing different organs; each one of them found sounds that none of the others used and one had the impression that they had only scratched the surface of the possibilities. Peter Conte, Grand Court Organist, is truly the master of this instrument, but assistants Michael Stairs and Rudy Lucente are obviously familiar and comfortable with it as well. Visiting organist Lynn Larsen also showed a surprising mastery of the vast rows of stop controls.
Honesty compels me to admit that there was a fifth organist who appeared briefly this weekend, making his debut on this monstrous instrument. Showing little of the mastery of the other more experienced players, your humble blog author accepted a kind invitation to play a piece during the Saturday noon recital.
Wow.
Trying to talk about this experience makes me sound like a valley girl trying to explain transcendental meditation to the crowd at a NASCAR event. Let's just say that more than forty-eight hours later there's more than the hint of a smile on my face that just won't go away.
dg
I am the director of the Choirs at Central Bucks High School in Warrington Pa. Our Titan Chamber Singers just returned from the Presidential Inagural Heritage Music Festival in Washington, CD. where we had the incredible experience of singing your "Sing Me To Heaven" in the National City Cathedral. Your friend Dondal Brinegar was one of the adjucators and told us he would tell you about our performance. We wanted you to know we selected your piece specifically for singing in that beautiful venue. This peice has been a true favotie of mine since teaching high school choral groups. I would love to send you a copy of our performance if you would like to email me your address. And by the way I am a Virgina born girl. Thank you for your beautiful music!
However, as a thirty-year substitute organist at the Grand Court Organ at what is now (and hopefully forever) Macy's, I can tell you that Dan's comments about the organ are not overstated. There has never been a time when I have approached this instrument with nonchalance. Three decades later I still find new sounds, and the efforts of curator Curt Mangel, his associate Sam Whitcraft, and the myriad of volunteers who lovingly nurture this instrument are nothing short of miraculous. We went through years of the "dark days" that have been described as "3000 concerts on three sounds" when most of what we heard were the words "no" and "it will be years from now." That was B.C. (Before Curt). Now, with Macy's as a caring, understanding and interested store owner, we hear "How can we help?" and "We'll get it done as quickly as possible."
If you're in Philly, take the time to see and hear this organ. It's worth the trip.
Rudy Lucente
Substitute Wanamaker Grand Court Organist
I now find myself teaching in my hometown of Nashville, TN., working mostly with girls attending Harpeth Hall, one of the few prep schools for girls left in the south. The choral director and I love your music, but it saddens us both that you don't have more arrangements for SSAA available in your catalog. As a matter of fact, Harpeth Hall is hosting a national Festival of Women's music in this next semester, and while our choral director wanted to have her girls sing "Sing Me to Heaven", her sister in Alabama got to it first, so her girls will be performing it so the ladies can keep peace in the household.
While I know you have a few more pieces available for women's voices, most of them are Christmas in nature. I, for one, would love to have the Gaelic Blessing available for my four seniors who are graduating this year, with music figuring largely in their college plans. I'm sure their are other uplifting selections that would be embraced by women's singing organizations, if you could see your way clear to arranging and even composing with us in mind.
Connections
(15 Apr, 2007)
Jane writes:
I just finished watching a DVD of the inaugural concert given in 2005 in the then just completed and rededicated Frauenkirche in Dresden, Germany. Bombed into rubble in 1945, and then languishing behind the Berlin Wall until the 1980s, the church was the object of a remarkable (some would say miraculous) rebuilding campaign, spearheaded in no small part by musicians. It was - and is again - a remarkable building. Its architecture was absolutely unique. Bach played the organ there. Many concerts were held there. Even reduced to rubble, it was a place of protest and rededication. The church was rebuilt as exactly as possible and rededicated, and the first concert presented there featured Beethoven's Missa Solemnis. Extraordinary. Moving. Haunting. Hopeful.
It never fails to amaze me how music holds so many associations and connections for us. For a happening across the ocean, why is this connected to me? My father spent almost two years in Germany just before World War II. Though he died many years ago, in his effects were dozens and dozens of ticket stubs for concerts he attended there - perhaps some in the original of this very church. He was fluent in the language and loved the people and culture there. Nothing would move him more than listening to choral music in German. When Dan and I were first married Dan was in the Navy, and was stationed in Bremerhaven, Germany. Our first daughter was born there. Dan took organ lessons there and sang in the Bach Choir. We also loved the people and culture there. We have our own collection of ticket stubs.
Through war and destruction, killing and hatred, hope survived in the form of a church and music. The power of those two forces helped rebuild an architectural wonder, a place of worship and music. This week Dan and I are going to participate in a Church Music Workshop at Furman University. Sometimes we underestimate the power of what happens to people, families, communities, and even countries in the places we worship and sing in. Best not. Sixty years after it was bombed into rubble, Frauenkirche rose again to hold the power of connections - to God, to family, to country, to faith, to music, to rebirth, to peace. 'Tis no small thing, being a church musician.
Fumbling Fingers
(06 Apr, 2007)
Dan writes:
Habit, it is said, makes a fine servant but a terrible master. I've been living in close association with this truism recently as I have been preparing for an organ recital which I will play in southern California next month. Reduced to its essence, practicing a musical instrument is the deliberate and forced acquisition of new and valuable habits. The better teachers of technique out there will confirm that, "Practice makes perfect" is not quite right: the better formulation would be, "perfect practice makes perfect." Indeed, I can verify that failing to work out fingerings before playing a passage several times will result in habitual mistakes, difficult to unlearn and wasteful of time. Another valuable insight into practice is, "never practice any passage faster than you can play it perfectly, for fumbling fingers find fate fickle."
I'm not much of a virtuoso and find that preparing a full length recital is a substantial undertaking. Preparing a major work of Bach, for example, requires an investment of time and effort which keeps me from doing it nearly as often as I would like. There being only 24 hours in my day (Unfair! I'm sure Bach got 28 or 30 in his!) I'm forced to make choices about the projects I take on. As long as I'm offering up pithy quotes I may as well offer one of my wife's favorites: "You can do anything you want, but you can't do everything you want." I know it's one of her favorites because she shares it with me so frequently. I believe this is one of the laws of the universe because, despite repeated efforts to disprove it over the years, it continues to bring me down to humility (or humiliation) with the ease of King Kong casually kicking around taxicabs.
I'd write more about this fascinating, frustrating topic but I really need to go practice. That Bach fugue still holds some moments of terror.
dg
Building a Legacy
(20 Mar, 2007)
Jane writes:
One phrase guaranteed to get a rise out of me when spoken in my presence is "Well, one person can't make a difference." That attitude is the world's biggest cop-out, the loser's excuse, the lazy man's out ... (can you tell this one really sets me off?). I submit that most (maybe not all, but most) great things in this world start with just one person. Finding like-minded people to join your journey can start a movement, even a revolution, but it all starts with one person.
We spent yesterday with one of those people who started something extraordinary with little more than vision and the support of her Church family. Sue Ellen Page conducts the Choirs for Children and Youth at Nassau Presbyterian Church in Princeton, NJ, and she is my newest entry in my Choral Directors Hall of Fame. This is a fabulous lady! We were visiting to hear the premiere of a new piece she commissioned from Dan for her Children's Choir. Talk about visionary - how many directors would commission a longer piece with children doing the "heavy lifting"? Dodging the latest snow storm in the East, we didn't make the Sunday Services, but did attend the concert that evening, and I have to say, it was wonderful. The piece, With the Eyes of a Child, was commissioned in memory of Timothy Baker, husband of Alice and father of Martin and Ralph. We met Alice and Ralph and these are two quite wonderful people.
Here is the back story: Ralph sang in the first of Sue Ellen's Children's Choirs more than twenty years ago, and Alice was a "Choir Mom". Ralph sang in her choruses through High School, and the experience was wonderful enough that he felt the collegiate groups he found at his university were... lacking. (Talk about setting a high benchmark!) These are "ya'll come" choirs, and Sue Ellen freely admits some years are better than others, but she is firmly committed to singing literature that teaches and challenges her children. These are amazing young people. They are bright, committed, interested, polite, well instructed singers. They sound like a million bucks, and they love their director. Ralph and Alice still love and care about these choirs and their director, and found an amazing way to combine the love and memory of their husband and father with someone and something that obviously played an important, perhaps defining, role in their lives for so many years.
Sue Ellen built these choirs. She will tell you that she did not do it by herself, and that is always true - she has found loyal supporters. She also enjoys a great relationship with Noel Werner, Director of Music and talented conductor of the Adult Choir. They say great things about each other. She has taught hundreds of children to sing over the years. She figures she has ten or twelve that have gone into music professionally, but as important to her - she has trained all of them to enjoy singing and to be a great audience. Some of her "alumni" attended the concert (and sang) and these are impressive young people. She doesn't necessarily get all the "best" singers in the area, but she turns out some of the finest and best trained singers around. She can't always do everything in the literature that she might like, but everything they sing uplifts and edifies her children. She may not be the most famous of the directors of children's choirs, but she knows what she is doing - she is creative, fun, demanding, loving, and very, very good. She politely refrained from telling anyone that this piece she commissioned was delivered later than she had asked (Dan hates it when the piece doesn't cooperate and flow easily onto the page!), but she spent hours preparing herself, learning the music and deciding how she would teach it to the children. She is a master teacher. It was a wonderful performance.
There was much talent on display. The organist, Janet Miller, is also a very talented oboist - and fine, sensitive musician. We heard wonderful cellist Suzanne Dicker, and Noel is no slouch at the organ, in addition to being a very fine conductor. The thing that stood out the most for me through the entire evening of music, dinner, and visiting with audience and congregation, was the amazing legacy Sue Ellen has built here. One person, and hundreds of lives, thousands of rehearsals, tens of thousands of hours of work and practice. Don't tell her one person can't make a difference - she has hundreds of people who will tell you different. Two of them just happen to live in Virginia now. Thanks Sue Ellen, and Alice,Ralph, and Martin. We are richer for having you in our lives.
<
Out of Print
(15 Mar, 2007)
Dan writes:
While simultaneously wearing the hats of composer and publisher I have occasion to encounter the pains, pitfalls, and problems of both. Trying to get my published scores into the hands of folks who wish to buy and use them, in a manner which is affordable and reliable, remains one of the thornier parts of the business and it has troubling ramifications for both of my roles.
Twice within the past two weeks it has come to my attention that potential customers who wished to purchase an organ piece from my catalog were told by online retailer J.W. Pepper that the piece was out of print and unavailable. In both cases, fortunately, the individuals involved were sufficiently determined to acquire the score that they persisted and contacted me directly. I told them that they had been misled and gave them directions to a supplier who had multiple copies on hand.
This is the sort of thing that keeps small struggling publishers up nights: What if the customer had just given up? What if they had confidently assured other potential customers that the piece was out of print? What if they had not been savvy enough to track down the publisher and ask about the work? How many times has one of these alternative scenarios come to pass in the past month or year and I never found out about it? What has this meant to my struggling little bottom line over the period I've been trying to make a living as a composer?
There are several reasons why you, as a consumer, may be told that a particular work is out of print:
1. The clerk doing the search for you simply doesn't know where to look among the myriad possibilities and simply gives up, electing to tell you that, "the publisher said it's out of print" rather than admitting the truth. Given the truly bewildering array of companies in the publishing business, the frequency with which they change names, are bought out, go out of business, or are represented to the retail trade by distributors bearing a different name, this sort of thing happens far more often than the industry would like to admit. Retailers are struggling simply to survive and can rarely afford to find, let alone hire and retain, the experienced few professionals who can confidently find their way through the morass of available materials to locate the score you want.
2. MegaMusic Corp swallows up Your Favorite Publisher, Inc. Tons and tons of printed music move from one warehouse (and database) to another, a process requiring weeks or months. You order a work. Your retailer inquires about it. The swamped clerk at MegaMusic may not even be aware that his employer now owns the work. OR, he may see the title on a list but have no way to immediately determine whether copies of it still exist. OR, he may know that copies were in the inventory listing but have no idea where those copies actually are at this moment. Chances are very good that you're going to be told that the piece is "out of print" regardless of the actual facts.
3. The store where you're shopping has a cash flow problem and hasn't paid its bill for a couple of months. A publisher or distributor will eventually stop filling orders from such a retailer until outstanding invoices have been brought current. If you happen to place an order while a store is experiencing a crunch, they are not likely to tell you that they are not paying their bills. Far more likely they will tell you that the piece you wanted is "out of print" and therefore unavailable. Trust me, this one happens a lot.
4. It's remotely possible that the work you wanted is indeed actually out of print. Frankly, while this happens more often than any of us would like, it doesn't happen as often as many retailers would have you believe, so—
NEVER BELIEVE A MUSIC RETAILER WHO TELLS YOU A PIECE IS OUT OF PRINT!
ALWAYS check with the publisher before accepting anyone's word on this--your colleague may have tried and failed to get a copy, but that doesn't mean the piece is unavailable.
The sad reality is thus: Small publishers will willingly move heaven and earth to help you make use of one of their pieces even if there is no profit in it. The larger the firm grows, however, and the more pieces, composers and imprints that are contained in their catalog, the less incentive they have to devote time and attention to your very small and specific search, even if it would be profitable. Add to this the problems that all publishers of any size have with the retail link in the chain, and you have a recipe for ongoing frustration for all concerned: composer, publisher, retailer and end user.
"Now when the choir director heard the words "out of print" upon the lips of the retailer, he did gnash his teeth and spill his Double Espresso upon his garment, for lo, he was wroth. Yea, and in a far country the composer fellow and the publisher guy did see all this, and they sat down together in the wilderness and they did weep."
dg
When I worked at a music store, I would move heaven and earth to track down a piece for someone - I tried always to remember what it felt like to not be able to get a piece I dearly wanted. I think that as long as traditional publishers refuse to become more flexible in the ways they will provide an out-of-print piece, there will always be this issue. I have tried to mitigate these effects as much as I can by starting a reprint service of Public Domain organ music. Sadly, there's only so much one person can do, so I'm only making a small dent in the problem (but I continue to try!)
Jonathan Orwig
evensongmusic.net
When there is music to be available, that is.
Crazy like us
(13 Feb, 2007)
Jane says:
American Choral Directors Assn. Miami convention is now only weeks away. We are beginning to prepare for our trip; talking to friends, arranging meetings, and preparing materials. Conventions always involve a great deal of work, no small amount of money, and take weeks to recover from. Yet, I've never talked to anyone who doesn't look forward to them, and relish the experience. Have you thought about why?
Yes, we have the opportunity to hear some great music and great choirs. We have the chance to go to reading sessions and expose ourselves to new literature. We learn from some of the best practitioners of the choral art in the business. The chance to walk through the amazing number of exhibits and see and hear the variety of new products is fun and exciting. But on a basic level, I don't think that is why these conventions are such anticipated events.
I think we love conventions because it is a chance to rub shoulders with thousands of people who are crazy the same way we are. Think about it. How many people do you talk to in the course of a week who don't think you're just a little strange when you wax poetic about your choir finally catching the magic of a Palestrina motet, or look at you in total bafflement when you talk about "blend" or "matching vowels". At a convention we all speak a common language, share common goals, laugh at the same jokes, share our frustrations and trials, and celebrate the same sorts of excellence. For days we can talk and share and laugh and gossip and concentrate on music and singing 24/7 without anyone in the crowd wondering why we do it. How much fun is that?!
How many people do you know and enjoy that you only see at the conventions - and you catch up and visit like crazy for the ten minutes between sessions and then don't see them again until the next convention - and then you do it again? How many new friends and contacts do you make that you would never have the chance to meet up with in any other context? Who do you know that you're going to make a point of spending some time with to pick their brain?
Start breaking in your comfortable shoes, figure out what bag you're going to use to carry the 40 lbs. of stuff you are going to pick up, and call your friends to find out which track they're on. If you see us, be sure and come talk to us. We will be there, rubbing elbows with thousands of our friends.
Who Were My Influences?
(01 Feb, 2007)
Dan writes:
My good friend and colleague Dr. David Pickering is off to Dordt College in Iowa next week where he will give a lecture-recital devoted to my organ music. As part of his thorough preparation for this assignment he has been in regular touch by phone and e-mail recently trying to develop a well grounded understanding of both the music and the composer. Among other questions he asked was one which I have struggled with a few times in the past. It seems deceptively simple at first blush but becomes more troublesome the longer you stare at it: "What other composers have been most influential or a source of inspiration in your development?"
After nearly fifty years of serious listening, often for hours at a time, to the music of composers ancient and modern, you would think it a trivial task to select a few prime specimens and point to them as influential. But like most of life's Tricky Questions (have you noticed this phenomenon?) rather than bringing to mind possible answers they seem only to provoke more and better questions. For instance, while it would be easy to list composers whose work I like, does that mean that I have actually internalized something from this exposure which would make them a real influence? And what about composers whose work I only admire and may not really like all that much; have they been a legitimate influence? How do we decide how much influence qualifies someone to be included on the list of suspects (for someone must be blamed, after all)? Does it only count if an impartial observer can see and identify said influence, or is it enough that I simply assert that the influence exists? Is there any reason to suppose that I would have been always aware of this influence and therefore able to finger the guilty parties?
As you can see, this is a fertile ground for speculation. Indeed, there is easily enough murky uncertainty here to forestall serious attempts at a meaningful answer for delightfully extended periods of time! Meanwhile, I'm not going to satisfy your prurient curiosities by listing any names; in fairness those responsible deserve a chance to defend themselves against such charges. Besides, the people who know me best are apt to start their lists with P.D.Q. Bach and Gerard Hoffnung and I'm not going there.
dg
It is true
(28 Jan, 2007)
Jane says:
Dan's right - I find Mahler tedious, emotionally adolescent, overblown, undisciplined, and self-indulgent. Blaise Pascal wrote, "I have made this letter longer than usual because I lack the time to make it shorter." That epitomizes Mahler for me. I know that it frequently takes Dan more time and effort to write something "simple" - transparent and effective, than something larger or more involved. Frequently text writing involves more cutting and refining than padding or elaboration. Brahms could never be called simple, yet every note serves an indispensable purpose. Mahler just never got that principle. Dan's right - there are moments of brilliance in his symphonies - surrounded by hours of "why are we here?"
It is also true that I have come to love organ music. When we were first dating, Dan was in the Navy and studying at the Language Training Center in Monterey, California. We saw each other on Wednesday nights and the weekends. We only had one "official" date (dinner and a movie), but we spent hours and hours sprawled on the floor in my apartment listening to music. My record collection (remember LPs?) was mostly orchestral, and his was choral and organ. I had a fair background in Bach, and a few other "familiars" in the organ category, but the vastness of the repertoire was a surprise to me. Despite his determination to expose me to all of it in the first month we knew each other, I did come out of that period with a much enhanced appreciation for the instrument and its literature.
It is also true that I taught Dan everything he knows about football... and every other sport he knows anything about now. That took much longer than teaching me to love the organ. You have to understand that Dan weighed 130 lbs. soaking wet when we met. He excelled at music, languages, math, writing, photography, and other scholastic pursuits. Anything that involved endangering his fingers or sweating was not high on his list of favorite things, and participation in sports demanded both. Our children would say he was a geek. I was always the tomboy and athlete, most of my friends were boys, and I was very competitive. I love sports, and have even been known to yell impolite things at umpires and referees.
It is also true that for all the teasing, Dan doesn't really question my taste in composers - after all, look who I married.
Approaching Mahler
(23 Jan, 2007)
Dan writes:
I would be hard pressed to pick a favorite from among the symphonies of Gustav Mahler. Each contains moments of genius which linger on the ear, each has a compelling story to tell which can change the way we perceive our world. I view the individual symphonies as being parts of a massive single work, the creation of which is the equivalent of envisioning an entire universe. The Mahler symphonies are an achievement similar in scope to Tolkein's creation of Middle Earth and have a similar effect on the psyche of those who experience them. These are mind-expanding soul-fulfilling masterpieces which make real demands on the listener. Do not expect to fully comprehend or appreciate either their content or their creator after only a few hearings; an investment will be required, your character will be tested, you will be stretched in healthy but sometimes uncomfortable ways.
Now I know that there are those, my dear devoted wife among them, who simply fail to grasp the full significance of these deeply meaningful and profoundly moving works. One can only feel sorry for such impoverished souls and hope that by tender patience and frequent exposure they may eventually be led to the light. I continue to hope, after some thirty-six years of marriage to this otherwise intelligent and cultured woman, that she will ultimately leave behind her shallow attachments to the music of lesser composers and turn to the source of real wisdom and vision, but she has thus far resisted all attempts to raise her standards.
However, I will not give up. Following a period of intense indoctrination early in our marriage she eventually came to appreciate much of the brilliant and powerful repertoire of the King of Instruments and now she can debate tracker actions, chiffy flutes and en chamade reeds with the best of them. My hope is far from exhausted! I believe she can be brought to a proper state of appreciation, (i.e., a point just short of worship) for Mahler's incredible symphonies and I'm going to persist in my mission. It's the least I can do--after all, she taught me everything I know about football.
dg
Rubik's Cube
(28 Dec, 2006)
Jane says:
I am old enough to remember when the Rubik's Cube first made its appearance. One of the reasons I remember it so clearly is that it was a Christmas gift in our family the year it came out. I don't remember the actual recipient but I remember that most of the first evening we had it, my father and my uncle both "played" with it for hours. Both very intelligent and educated men, they were convinced that they could "logic it" out and get it neatly back the way it was supposed to be - no problem! Late that night it was still not back with the solid colors on each side that it had started with. Early the next morning my younger sister, who could not have been more than seven or eight, played with it for about fifteen minutes and handed it to her father and uncle, perfectly solved. Nobody had told her it was hard.
Contrary to Dan, I quite like New Year's Resolutions. I find it interesting and educational to look back on the year to see what worked the way I thought it would, and what turned out to be important. Even after five children and a lifetime married to a composer, I cherish the illusion that we can exercise control over at least some of our life, and can improve and change in ways that help us move closer to our goals. I like the self-imposed discipline of goals and the challenge of making myself reach a little further.
This year has had its share of fresh faces, fresh challenges and frustrations, and changes both exciting and painful. Unfortunately we haven't achieved the change we were really looking for - selling the house and moving. We are also being forced into business changes that are challenging and scary. We have made wonderful new friends that are enriching our lives in amazing ways, and have long-time friends who are facing illness and death. We find ourselves getting older and grayer, and yet provided with time and opportunities simply not available when we were caring for our children and my mother. We have technology that makes our life and work so much easier (I copied out manuscripts by hand to send to Korea to be engraved when Dan was first composing!), yet find that same technology a seductive time-waster as well. No such thing as an unmixed blessing.
The new year holds many promises and challenges, and I will make my New Year's Resolutions and see if any of them have any relevance to what actually happens. On my list: I am going to keep in closer touch with friends. I am going to work on staying more positive. I am going to listen more and say less. I will work at staying more in the present instead of fussing about the past or worrying about the future. There are more, but hidden under my confidence that I can "logic" my way through the labyrinth of the coming year, is the suspicion (twist) that after hours of (twist) trying, I will find that the (twist) colors still don't (twist) line up the way they (twist) should... and that I will forced to remember "...except ye become as a little child..." to solve the puzzles the year will bring.
P.S. I have never once solved a Rubik's Cube
It's hard to break out of a pattern.
That's where my resolution comes in, and why I'm glad sometimes when my "logic" gets interrupted by chance.
Ya' can't logic everything.
By the way, did you know that if you pick one wall when entering a "Labyrinth" and follow it, it's supposed to inevitably lead you out eventually?
I mean...er...just follow your intuition.
Sterling
Resolutions for 2007
(23 Dec, 2006)
Dan writes:
I have a friend whose family gathers right at the end of each December and shares their New Year's Resolutions for the coming year. They also briefly review the resolutions made the previous year and offer a report on how well they did in implementing the list into their lives. This event sounds quite delightful to me, right up there between emergency oral surgery without anesthesia and a refreshing two week walking tour of Death Valley in August.
I've tried the New Year's Resolutions thing on a number of occasions without much success. I get through the part where I make up the list all right, but once December 31st has come and gone, well, let's just say that last year's concerns seem so outmoded, so passé, so "last year" that the whole thing lacks any sense of urgency. I suspect that this has something to do with my basically optimistic nature, which keeps me mostly looking forward rather than dwelling on the past.
Another possibility is that I am so wretchedly awful at self discipline that I attempt to maintain plausible deniability by keeping my distance from any activity which might require some. Thus, the "basic optimism" ploy, above, which I certainly hope you found persuasive. Come to think of it, this theoretical lack of discipline would also explain my delinquency in keeping up my blog entries. Indeed, now that one ponders briefly, it explains so many of my most endearing eccentricities that I'm tempted to declare it a feature, not a bug…
Still, it seems a pity to allow the calendar to roll over without taking advantage of the psychological clean slate it offers. Perhaps my chances of success would improve if I were to focus on a single item, some minor but nagging character flaw or other hindrance to personal growth that might be eliminated or at least minimized. Hmmm…
I'm going to ask your help with this: during AD 2007 please do not offer me any brussels sprouts whatsoever. I have resolved to eliminate them completely from my life. This will have many benefits but the one I'm really looking forward to is our meeting next December when I get to report my success to you. I anticipate a clean sweep!
dg
Don't set yourself up for disappointment when those sprouts come out to tempt you.
Mmmmmmm, sprouts!
The Season in Review
(11 Dec, 2006)
Jane writes:
I love decorations, nativity scenes, Christmas trees, lights, and all the tinsel and glitter that makes visual magic. (I hate that it appears before Halloween. Hasn't anyone in retail every heard of Thanksgiving?)
I love living in a place where there are real seasons. I love the cold, and the postcard scenes that come this time of year. I love the special quiet that comes with snow, and the magic of snow at night. I grew up in California where there are two seasons - wet and dry, and I never want to live in a place without four real seasons again. (I hate driving and walking on ice.)
I love hearing "Merry Christmas". (I hate the stupidity that creates artificial, politically correct controversy over such a loving exchange.)
I love giving gifts, and spending time planning and making the perfect choices for the people I love. (I hate the "keeping score" mentality of the current culture. Measuring value in dollars is lazy.)
I love the music. Some of the best music ever written and performed is for this season. I love going to concerts, Messiah Sings, and hearing choirs in church, malls, shopping centers, and caroling. (I hate the "canned", electronic, secularized garbage that is played over store announcements about "Specials on aisle 3".)
I love real Christmas trees. (I hate trying to get them straight in the stand, and picking the needles out of the carpet or my feet.)
I love seeing other people's decorations. As a little girl I remember driving around and looking at the amazing lights and themed yards in our town. ( I hate thousands of lights in pinwheels, ferris wheels, and flags being used as a substitute for imagination, creativity, and taste.)
I love the spirit of warmth and friendship that spills into the daily social transactions we all have. People are more cheerful, helpful, and generous now than any other time of the year. (I hate crowds and shopping.)
I love the tastes and smells of the holidays - pine, bayberry, cinnamon, cider, pumpkin, cookies, hot chocolate, and dozens of other special treats. (I have to admit that though I don't hate cooking, it is not up there in my top ten things to do. My mother was a great holiday cook, and I do maybe a quarter of what she did every year.)
I love listening to Dan read the Christmas story every Christmas Eve. I love the quiet and peace that comes over all who are listening as he starts "And it came to pass..." (Never mind. How can hate coexist with that greatest of all stories? However frustrating the commercialization or secularization of Christmas becomes, it is still JOY.)
I love you guys.
Merry Christmas!!
Celeste Gawthrop
The Boston Pops Christmas Tour
(29 Nov, 2006)
Dan writes:
Some of you may have an opportunity to see one of the live performances of the Boston Pops as they make their annual Christmas tour this year. Always polished and entertaining, this ensemble has an enviable history as one of this country's finest orchestras. It's no surprise that the soloists and guest ensembles invited to appear with them are of similarly high quality, drawn from among the finest professional performers available in the world.
This year the Pops will be accompanied by the Furman Singers, a collegiate ensemble directed by Dr. Bingham Vick, Jr. This finely honed and versatile group of singers from Furman University in Greenville, South Carolina has a distinguished history of performing in prestigious venues all over the world. About a week before Thanksgiving Jane and I had an opportunity to sit in on the final rehearsal of this choir before they started their short but intense tour with the Boston Pops.
We got to hear each of the selections they will perform on tour, including the one which had arrived by e-mail that very same morning. That's right—they went from sight-reading to final polish in a single two-hour rehearsal which was a textbook example of how an efficient and purposeful rehearsal should be run. The piece in question, an arrangement written specifically for this tour, was no simplistic mostly-unison version of a slow and familiar carol. It was a driving and jazzy take on a very up-tempo “Go Where I Send Thee” replete with syncopations, unexpected twists both harmonic and rhythmic and constant shifts from backing up the soloist (whom they won't hear until a dress rehearsal) to extended passages where the choir takes center stage and shows off their dynamic and engaging skills.
Most choirs, frankly, would never really master this score, and the few who would find it within their reach would spend many weeks preparing it. The Furman Singers learned it, top to bottom, in a single rehearsal during which they also took time to review all the rest of their tour repertoire. Oh, and since we were there, they also found a few minutes to sing through a brand new work of ours (Stand Ye on the Mountain with text by Jane and music by yours truly) which was recently commissioned for them. They will give the world premiere of the piece early next year.
There's a lot of talent in the group, without doubt, but there are many other collegiate choral ensembles in the country which can attract even more talent with their larger pools of scholarship money and bigger reputations. It's also true that they work very hard, though that too can be found in similar measure at other institutions. In my judgment the factor which is mostly to account for the astounding accomplishments of this group on a national and international scale is the musical genius of their conductor, Bing Vick. Though he has frequently been offered opportunities to move to larger universities with more prestigious programs, Bing has faithfully remained at Furman University for more than thirty years.
Retirement is not too many years away for Bingham Vick. Keep an eye on the choral music program at Furman University over the next few years as a true Master musician reaches the pinnacle of his career. I have a feeling there will be some profoundly exciting events along the way.
dg
Remember
(11 Nov, 2006)
Jane says:
Take a few minutes out of your schedule this weekend to remember who purchased your peaceful hours, and at what price. Today is Veteran's Day.
I am the wife of a veteran as well as the daughter and daughter-in-law of veterans. I am prouder than I can express of the service of these men in my life, and I mourn for those who served with them and paid the ultimate price for the bounty with which I am blessed.
Dan told you about the wonderful concert we attended in Annapolis. It was indeed a delightful evening. For me however, the highlight came towards the end of the evening. As the program moved from Halloween towards All Saints, Monte started a tremendously effective arrangement of Barber's Adagio for Strings, and the announcer reminded us that all we had enjoyed had been purchased by those who served, were missing, or had died in wars past. One young officer, in dress whites, carrying a single candle in the dark chapel, processed oh-so-slowly down the center isle. Except for the music, it was utterly silent. Without a cue, in hushed reverence, 4,000 people rose and stood as he passed. In a chapel where one pew is always empty, in memory and honor of the dead and MIAs, we were reminded that every one of the talented young performers we had enjoyed throughout the evening wore the uniform of this country, and were willing to put their talents, their intellegence, their loyalty, their training and their lives between our enemies and us. What extraordinary young people. I honor them. I pray for them. I support them.
We should always remember, and live and work in a way that makes us worthy of such sacrifice. Honor has great resonance among these young warriors. It should with us as well. Living up to them is an honorable goal. In that spirit, as my own form of entreaty, here are the words to Eternal Father, Strong to Save - commonly called the Navy Hymn. For all those in uniform:
Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave
Who biddest the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.
O Christ, Whose voice the waters heard
And hushed their raging at Thy word,
Who walkedst on the foaming deep,
And calm amidst its rage didst sleep
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.
Most Holy Spirit who didst brood
Upon the chaos dark and rude,
And bid its angry tummult cease,
And give, for wild confusion, peace;
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.
O Trinity of love and power,
Our brethren shield in danger's hour
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect them wheresoe'er they go
Thus evermore shall rise to Thee
Glad praise from air and land and sea.
Amen.
Indeed.
I had just been researching Charles Jennens, who is hardly ever acknowledged for his role in our musical heritage, and he reminded me of your integral role in Dan's music. May God's blessings shine on you both as your circle of influence is ever expanding! Much love!
Navy vs. Forces of Evil
(01 Nov, 2006)
Dan writes:
As regular readers of this blog will be aware, I have a profound love for the organ and its incredibly varied and powerful repertoire. Because I'm a nice guy, I like to share the things which have enriched my life with others, in the hope that they, too, will benefit and be uplifted. I wouldn't call myself a crusader, exactly, but I'm a bit more than just an enthusiast. Perhaps "activist" is the best title for the role I've taken.
Organ music used to be much more central to our culture than it currently is, but its inherent worth and potential contribution are as great as they ever were. I'm always pleased, therefore, to encounter something which brings the King of Instruments before more people in a way which they find engaging and informative.
One such event took place this past weekend in Annapolis, Maryland which left me deeply impressed.
Organist Monte Maxwell presides over the large instrument in the architecturally stunning chapel at the US Naval Academy. In addition to playing for Sunday services, Monte finds himself providing music for quite a few weddings in this popular venue. In fact, it's not uncommon at some seasons of the year for Saturdays to include seven or eight weddings, one an hour throughout the day and into early evening.
But once a year at Halloween, Monte puts on a show for visitors which really must be seen to be believed. The enormous five-manual console of the organ is brought front and center and the entire chapel is equipped with a vast assembly of lighting, decorations and special effects devices which utterly transform the space. He then calls upon the remarkable variety of talents and enthusiasm of the midshipmen of the Academy to provide costumed characters who interact with audience members, man the controls for the lighting, sound and special effects, and sing and dance quite professionally for a two-hour extravaganza of entertainment. My wife and I were enthralled by the constant variety and extremely high quality of what we experienced, as soloists and ensembles came and went with flawless timing and polished pacing. We heard singers who would have been scholarship students in music departments at more typical colleges and universities. Midshipmen can sing! Who knew?
Monte, of course, opened the program with the obligatory Bach Toccata and Fugue in D minor. This iconic work, overpowering in its grandeur in this enormous space and on this enormous instrument, provided a familiar landmark for audience members who think themselves bored by dusty old organ music. If memory serves, there were only four solo works for the organ during this extended evening: the Bach, already mentioned, a wondrously effective transcription of Night on Bald Mountain, the Barber Adagio for Strings, and the brilliantly performed "Tu Es Petra" of Henri Mulet which brought the capacity audience to its feet at the conclusion of the evening.
All of the rest of the program was made up of various solos and ensemble pieces by singers from the student body, many involving choregraphy and all in wonderful costumes. But here's the critical point for an organ buff like me: Monte accompanied every one of them on this magnificent organ, showcasing its kaleidoscopic profusion of colors and demonstrating its musical effectiveness at every dynamic level from barely audible (but still warmly enveloping) to absolutely thunderous (but never unpleasant or unmusical). For most of two solid hours this audience of ordinary folks listened to the organ, and they loved it! Monte played the entire evening from memory.
Lest you think that this was just another "Spooktacular" romp through Halloween clichés, I hasten to point out that the evening is billed as an "All Saints' Day Celebration", and although the program does include wonderfully chilling representations of the varied symbols of the forces of evil, it progresses logically and irresistably to a conclusion in which good triumphs, represented by an absolutely glorious performance of Mulet's landmark toccata "Thou Art the Rock."
In a very short period of time this annual event at the Naval Academy Chapel has become the most popular offering of the year, and they now sell out, weeks in advance, two performances on successive evenings. The chapel seats about 4,000 folks; you do the math.
Bottom line: Monte is succeeding wildly at bringing the organ back into people's lives in a manner which is effective, fun and engaging.
He is my new hero.
dg
We won't all be able to present a program like Monte's but we can all learn lessons by asking ourselves what makes it so popular. Thanks for giving attention to this great musician and his accomplishments to bring the organ to people who are ready to love it.
Mark
A Normal Day - What A Concept!
(17 Oct, 2006)
Jane writes:
With some frustration at not gaining the insight he wanted about Dan's composition process (we have yet to come up with a satisfactory description of the creative process) a college student asked me to describe a" normal" day in our house.
Now, you try not to discourage or embarrass young students but I couldn't stifle the laughter the question provoked. A normal day? Would that be a day that the microwave didn't start making onimous noises and one of your adult children didn't call with a crisis, or the day when you didn't discover that you don't actually have three more conductor scores for a piece someone suddenly orders, or maybe the day you didn't start to enter a piece into Finale so it can be sent off today and the computer crashes. A normal day - what a concept!
Normal, I've decided, is the expected. It doesn't really have anything to do with anything intrinsic - it is seeing or doing what we have always seen or done. I've always thought we were a pretty normal family, a notion which my children dismiss with hysterical laughter. They assure me that it is not normal to insist that your children memorize poetry, go to art museums, read every day (even if it is under the covers at night), develop and cultivate their curiousity, and learn to behave well in public. (Their list is much longer, but they get whiney so I won't continue) What we did felt normal at the time - even to them, I think. It also feels like we have a "normal" marriage, but again I am assured it is not so. (I have to admit that having one that has lasted 36 years does make it a little unusual) Don't all married people hold hands when they are together, sneak kisses when they can, and find their time together the most precious time of the day?
If life doesn't intrude, a normal day includes breakfast together, a post office trip (and on an exciting day we also hit the dump - no garbage pickup out here in the country), composition for Dan (several times during the day), weaving/knitting for me, computer time, reading, house-minding (since we are trying to sell this place), and the normal "stuff" that everyone does. Glamorous, eh? How often do we have a normal day? Well, today we got an email from someone complaining about the quality of printed music they were getting. That was a little alarming, and we are still trying to track down that problem. Our oldest daughter has a friend visiting who has ended up in the hospital, and may need to recuperate here for a few days before flying home. We are trying to get the details organized to send out a postcard mailing for a upcoming CD of Dan's organ music (watch the NEWS section for an announcement soon), and Dan is finishing up a piece in Finale to send off today. Hmmm, no "normal" today.
It is interesting to realize how little "normal" is in our lives. Something outside the routine happens almost every day. We long for just one normal day, and yet they are the exception rather than the rule for most of us. See? It isn't what actually happens, it is what we expect - the unexpected is what keeps a day, or an experience, or even a person from being normal. But think about it in musical terms... how many times do we dismiss a piece because it is predictable, or too much like everything else out there? We actually relish the unexpected chord or melodic detour. When we read a book or go to a movie, we love twists and turns that take us to unanticipated places. We really don't like normal much - we just think we do. Or perhaps we would just like to preserve the illusion that there are parts of our lives that we actually control.
Nope. Give it up. We are not in charge. "Normal" is a myth, and we wouldn't like it, even if we could get it.
Where Do You Get Your Ideas?
(06 Oct, 2006)
Dan writes:
As a composer I am frequently asked where I get my ideas. "Where do you get your ideas?" people ask. Where, indeed. Novelists, I'm told, also get this question a lot. It seems that among people who don't make up stuff for a living, the nuts and bolts of doing so is endlessly fascinating.
Personally, I try not to think about it too much. I'm not inclined to examine the process too closely in case doing so should disrupt the delicate workings of the mechanism. The centipede, it is said, manages to get along very well until someone asks him just how he controls all of those legs. Stopping to analyze the process, he falls into the ditch and drowns. Never let it be said that I don't have better sense than a centipede.
Unfortunately, that leaves me without a ready answer for the question which seems to come up more frequently than any other. Since making up stuff seems to be what I do best, over the years I have made up and tried out a number of responses with varying degrees of success. Here are the top five that remain in heavy rotation:
1. eBay. You can buy anything on eBay.
2. I bought this marvelous old sealed trunk at a yard sale at a castle in Transylvania once. It was stuffed with books, all filled with the most amazing musical ideas!
3. They come to me in dreams, usually after a late night snack of pepperoni pizza smothered in hot fudge.
4. I steal them from other composers, who steal them in turn from yet other composers. There's really not been anything truly original written in E-flat major since Mendelssohn. Honestly! I've tried.
5. I could tell you, but then you'd fall into the ditch and drown...
dg
You go into a trance-like state and while floating around in the cosmos, being @-one with the elements, you pull musical themes out of the cosmic ether.
We havn't figured out what trance-like state it is yet.
personally, I suspect California.
The Blessings of Technology
(29 Sep, 2006)
Jane writes:
There is a theological reason I am writing another blog entry instead of Dan taking his turn. It is my conviction, based on years of experience, that all blessings are mixed blessings. Now I will grant you that some of the "not so great" parts of a blessing may not be all that bad. If one comes into a great amount of money, the attendant problems of tax issues, previously unknown relatives appearing with hands out, etc., don't appear too awful (at least to those of us to whom it has never happened). The astounding growth in transportation options has been a huge blessing for all of us, not only getting our bodies to the places we need to go (faster, and further than our grandparents could have imagined), but our food and "stuff" as well. The pollution, accidents, and other mayhem are the other side of that blessing. See what I mean?
The current blessing that is showing its "dark side" and keeping Dan from his turn at the blog is technology. He is having issues with his computer. He is, at this very moment, teaching his computer words it hadn't ought to know, as he struggles to get some new software to work. The suspicion is that he will have to wipe and reload everything and see if that solves the problem. Do you know how long that is going to take!?! (That was Dan's contribution to this entry.) Writing texts may make me grumpy but computer issues make him even grumpier.
Don't get me wrong, he wouldn't give it up. When he began his composition career, I hand-copied all his manuscripts. I can't remember very many that didn't have at least one mistake, and correcting was a major pain! If we wanted it engraved for publication it was sent to Korea (minimum two weeks each way, checked for corrections and sent again) before it was in print. Now it all gets entered into Finale (which has the world's best tech support), printed and proofed, and it is ready to go. I don't think I'll remind him that it used to take longer to get a single piece done than it will take him to reformat. Maybe later...
We love the email, the blogs, the websites, the music software, and all the other conveniences that computers offer, but sometimes they are the most *#(@(&!!*! things ever invented. Dan will return as soon as the brighter side of this blessing reappears.
Moving Stuff
(16 Sep, 2006)
Jane writes:
We are putting our house on the market (anyone want to move to the beautiful Shenandoah Valley?) and getting ready to do some serious downsizing. What that really means is that we are throwing away stuff, and sorting stuff, and throwing away stuff, and reorganizing stuff, and throwing away stuff, and giving away stuff, and throwing away....
My father used to say that everyone should have a move or a fire every five years. There are times when a fire looks far too attractive. If you have ever even cleaned out your closet you have had that experience of finding something and thinking "What in the world was I saving this for?!" When you move you multiply that experience by thousands. It just doesn't seem possible that we have so much "stuff".
I am pretty ruthless. If I haven't seen it, used it, or needed it in the last year, it gets tossed. I am not saving things that I'm going to fix someday, or wear again someday, or give to my children or grandchildren someday (they can take it now or I toss it!). Whole boxes of books, clothing and other household "necessities" have been loaded into the car for trips to the dump or Salvation Army. I do have my weaknesses - mostly yarn. I just know that someday I will find a project for that road cone orange yarn someone gave me. Mostly though, if there is a question - it gets tossed.
Dan won't let me near his stuff. He is remarkably good about some things. There are no pencil copies of pieces already in print - he tosses them. He is also pretty ruthless about old pieces he knows he won't want in print. They get tossed. Books and magazines are harder, but he's gotten better about that. But, don't mess with his office! He knows exactly where everything is - in which stack on his desk, and how far down the stack - and he doesn't want anyone (that would be me) messing with his system. The annoying thing is that he really does seem to know where most things are and does seem to be able to come up with what he needs without me to "help" him organize. For him (and for his father before him) throwing something away means he is going to need it just days later. Unfortunately, it happens just often enough (once every ten years) to reinforce the hoarding habit.
The process proceeds at a rather stately pace at the moment. I suspect it will descend into frenzied panic once we actually sell the house and have a date when we must leave. Perhaps the piles of furniture and boxes compared to the size of the truck will encourage us to put more stuff on the "throw away" stack. Meanwhile, we are taking care of the important stuff - music, yarn, and each other.
Get Rich in Music Publishing!
(10 Sep, 2006)
Dan writes:
Recently a composer friend was visiting and we were comparing "notes" (you should pardon the pun) about the trials and travails of life for a creative artist. My friend has followed the traditional path of working with various commercial publishers to get his works into print, and he was asking me about the advantages and disadvantages of self publication.
I wear both the composer hat and the publisher hat. Now, there's not much I can tell you about the composing; the same folks who tell us that it is scientifically impossible for bumblebees to fly would doubtless tell you that writing music is similarly unthinkable. But I can answer a few of the most common questions about the publishing end of this arrangement, and the first question which usually comes up is, "How can I make a small fortune in music publishing?"
The answer of course is, "Start with a large fortune."
Here's how it works:
Let's take an imaginary choral octavo that retails for two dollars. When you buy thirty of them for your choir, where does your money go? Let's follow the money.
The first fifty to sixty percent of the sum remains with the retailer that sells it to you. Whether that's too much or too little I can't tell you, but that's the industry standard. That brings our publisher's income on the octavo down to a dollar or less.
Next is distribution. In my case, the publications of Dunstan House are distributed to those retailers around the country by a company that undertakes to warehouse the inventory, to take and fill the orders from retailers, to fill and ship those orders and to collect the payments. For these services they charge me twenty-five percent. If I didn't pay someone to do this for me, I would simply have to do it all myself at similar cost. This further reduces your two dollar payment, which is now down to about seventy-five cents.
Obviously I had to pay someone to print copies of the octavo, and he charges me from twenty to thirty cents a copy. Let's take a best-case scenario and assume I got a good deal on printing: your two dollars now look like fifty-five cents in my hand.
From this amount I need to reserve a sum to cover the routine costs of doing business. These expenses will include things like 1) advertising and promotion, to let you know that this octavo is available, 2) communications costs, like phone lines and internet access, 3) hardware, like computers and printers and fax machines and desks and chairs and bookcases and filing cabinets and so forth, 4) expendables, like manuscript paper, letterhead, envelopes, pens, notepads, and much more, plus, 5) a bewildering array of miscellaneous expenses, like utilities, postage, business licenses, taxes (which are much higher for self-employed folks like us) and insurance premiums (which are similarly higher for the same reason).
In addition to this there will be some jobs that need doing for which we will have to hire and pay real persons, an expense which is very large for most commercial publishers. I guess we're really lucky as a self publishing firm because we get two unpaid volunteers to accomplish all of the tasks associated with running a small business--my wife and myself! We're happy to volunteer, right? Why would we want to be paid? By the way, I have to run the business during those hours when I am not either composing or sleeping. (Either the days are getting shorter, or...)
If I'm lucky with all the costs listed above, your initial payment of two dollars is now down to about two dimes. Twenty cents, by the way, is exactly what a ten percent royalty would equal. Most commercial publishers pay their composers a ten percent royalty.
Hence, the need to start with a large fortune.
dg
The Enemy of the Best
(05 Sep, 2006)
Jane writes:
You know those phrases your parents repeated ad nauseum when you were young – the ones you swore you would never use with your own children? One of those, for me, was “The enemy of the best is not the worst, but the merely good”. This was repeated to me by my father most frequently when I had done something less than my best effort, but in what I considered an adequate manner. I hated it. Most often it triggered an internal struggle to decide if “good enough” was enough – and I knew that my father would never say another word, no matter what my decision.
In an age where “just getting by” seems to be so much the norm, and pride in doing something truly excellent can be actively discouraged, performing music stands as an interesting exception. If you sing in a choir, singing something “fairly close” to a C is just not good enough. Singing a rhythm exactly, perfectly together, can become a real issue. I remember one rehearsal where a Choir Director (who shall remain nameless, but whose initials are JY) said, in exasperation, “I’m pretty sure that since Mr. Gawthrop wrote a dotted quarter and an eighth note here, he really meant for you to sing it that way. But, since he’s sitting right there, we can ask him if he’d like to change it to the way you are singing it…? Come on, people!” Hours are spent in rehearsal trying to make something as close to perfect as it can come – intonation, vowel matching, blend, tone - the ultimate in multi-tasking.
Interestingly, we have all heard technically perfect performances that are uninspiring, and less than perfect ones that were riveting. We have watched as choirs suddenly turn on, and everyone is watching, listening, and working, and the performance turns magical. The reward may be that
ultimate compliment – the 3 to 5 second silence while the audience relearns how to breathe before the applause starts.
All musicians, by the nature of what they do, are involved in a counter-cultural movement which holds excellence as the standard. Competitions aside, the standard is self-imposed and critically maintained. Not because we are elitist, or because we are forced to, but because excellence is where the magic happens.
Disappointment Comes Monthly
(31 Aug, 2006)
Dan writes:
Once a month, without fail, I subject myself to a painful exercise which inevitably leaves me frustrated and disheartened. No matter how cheerful I was before taking up this task, I always finish the job with a small black cloud hanging over my head, slashing tiny little lightning bolts at my ears and pouring down metaphorical cloudbursts on what's left of my hair. Any rational person would quite sensibly avoid such a thankless job and my very wise and practical wife tells me repeatedly to just let it alone, but I am irresistably drawn to it month after month.
I'm talking about the monthly review of sales figures of print music from my small publishing company, Dunstan House. Please don't misunderstand: although we could always wish for additional sales and the welcome income they would provide, the bottom line really isn't the problem. Truth be told, I consider myself richly blessed to be able to say that composing music is my full-time gig and that I no longer have to rely on a "day gig" to pay the bills.
No, the ongoing problem with the sales figures is not the monthly total of all sales, but the maddeningly frustrating realization that people are buying the wrong pieces! Now I know that, like me, you'll be startled to learn that choir directors seem focused on the serviceable, practical little anthems and motets, to the nearly complete exclusion of the far more satisfying and meaningful works of art which are listed on the same pages of our catalog! Incomprehensible, isn't it? Month after month the easier and less weighty pieces that we publish out-sell my "real" music!
This month was no exception: sales of my best musical scores, real works of merit like Three Rossetti Lyrics and Four Longfellow Settings were almost nonexistent, while the little "sugar sticks" flew out the door. By the time I reached the end of the list of titles I was sick at heart: clearly, I am destined to be remembered not for my best music, but rather, for my most practical and approachable pieces.
I'm trying to reconcile myself to this, and I know I'll feel better about it tomorrow. In fact, in a couple of weeks I'll probably have mostly forgotten the whole thing. And then the sales figures will arrive again.
dg
dg
I keep copies in my catalog of ALL your publications, even the ones I can't do in a church setting, like the Rosetti settings and "Bright Journeys" which I love.
I do my best at conferences and workshops to get musicians to look at it. I'm beginning to tour doing workshops for my church music software, and will continue to be your advocate.
You may remember that I ordered from you the "This Child, This King" parts before they were actually ready, back in 1993 or 1994, when I was at a church in College Park, MD. Well, the writing in that (especially the first piece in it), and "Sing Me to Heaven" made me realize you are one to watch.
The next time I talk someone into buying one of your works, I'll tell them to tell you that I recommended it!!
Duane Toole, Richmond, VA.
ps. My wife Kathy has also done This Child, This King at her church, because the harp accompaniment is so well done, and fell under the hands of her harpist so easily.
A Dinosaur's New Tricks
(21 Aug, 2006)
Jane says:
My entire family will tell you that I am the technology dinosaur in the family. To prove their assertion they gleefully point out the fact that the piece of technology I interact with the most is a floor loom (yes, I do know that fabric and clothing can be purchased ready-made). It is true that I am less involved in some of the newest techie things than they are, but I maintain that it isn't quite as bad as they paint it. I know my way around my laptop, though I'll freely admit to enjoying my yarn addiction more.
My newest foray into technology came as a result of my most recent Mother's Day present. My children bought me an MP3 player. It is very cool. It is also a little spooky. I grew up in a household where the big technology purchase was a beautiful, big reel-to-reel tape recorder that my father used to record music off the classical FM station.There was always music going in our house. My father sang in a community chorus (I can still sing most of the bass parts to Messiah and the Brahms Requiem), my mother took, and taught, piano lessons. I played the violin. My parents served on the Symphony Board and were pillars of the musical community. We had shelves of reel-to-reel tapes full of music, as well as LPs. One whole corner of our livingroom was devoted to the tape machine (did I mention that it was BIG!?), turntable, and media. My newest present made me think of my father, and wonder what he would think. I can now load dozens of hours of music onto a little (REALLY little) device that I can strap onto my arm and go anywhere with. An unimaginable luxury not that long ago.
As remarkable as the technology is, it is even more remarkable that our generation can hear virtually every great masterpiece every written. No longer do we have to wait until the orchestra closest to us plays it, or a chorus within travel distance sings it. Of the most popular masterpieces there are multiple recordings, by different performing groups, available for a pittance. Never in the history of civilization have so many people had access to so much great music. We should be the most musically literate and appreciative audience ever, but I fear that is not the case. In an age when the best is easily and cheaply available, our involvement and interaction with greatness dwindles.
There are signs of hope occassionally. The BBC recently offered a free download of the Beethoven Symphonies, and over 600,000 people took advantage of it! The end of live orchestra concerts and choral performances has been predicted for years, yet they are still out there. Shouldn't there be a way to take this technology that is so familiar to the young, and use it to help spread the excitement of great music? I am going to think about it as I go thread my loom, with my MP3 player strapped to my arm, and Schubert pouring through my headphones.
I'm kidding of course.
Giving Money to Composers
(08 Aug, 2006)
Dan writes:
As I type these words on my laptop the sun is just beginning to think about making an appearance above the peaks of the Wasatch Mountain range, among which the Snowbird ski resort is nestled here in Utah. At this altitude (something above 8,000 feet) the sun seems to have to struggle to climb high enough to be seen. I'm quite sympathetic--at this altitude I have to struggle to do anything more energetic than clatter away on my laptop!
The scenery is stunning, our surroundings are plush, and I'm going to spend the next few days in this idyllic setting helping give away substantial sums of money (not my own, I hasten to add) to fellow composers. "Cushy job," you're thinking, and even though the position is a volunteer one I'm forced to agree. Here's the gig: having received over the years a total of four grants from the prestigious Barlow Endowment for Music Composition, I was happy to accept when they called to offer me a five year appointment as a member of their Board of Advisors. It's a way to pay back with my time and effort some of the financial support which the endowment has given me.
The Barlow Endowment has been around for over twenty years now and has garnered a well deserved reputation for adding many important new musical works to the repertoire through their awards and grants. You can learn more about this extraordinary organization at their website: http://cfac.byu.edu/College/barlow/
Once a year the Board meets for a week here at the Snowbird resort to choose a winner for the annual competition for a major commission ($15,000 this year) and to consider proposals for general support of specific projects from teams made up of a composer and one or more performing groups or soloists who have committed to premiering the new work which will result. Entries and proposals come in from all over the world and as you may well imagine, the job of deciding who will be sent checks and who will receive only our regrets is formidable and humbling.
Each year the competition is in a different area of music. Last year composers competed to receive a commission for a piece for chamber ensemble, this year the prize will go for a work for band and next year we'll be seeking entrants who want to write for a percussion ensemble. Meanwhile we also award commissions, usually for smaller sums than the competition prize, for projects of all descriptions which have been conceived by composers and proposed to us.
I'm sometimes asked what it feels like to give money to other composers. Well, I think I could get used to it, although it's probably a better idea not to. It's certainly gratifying that those who make the decisions think enough of my experience and judgment to trust me with such a responsibility, but once one gets past the ego rush of being asked to serve, there remains the very serious and weighty matter of actually going through the applications and proposals, knowing that each one represents someone's dream and that only a few can be funded. In a word, the process is intense.
I'll write more about this later, but the sun has finally succeeded and I need to get to work!
dg
On My List
(02 Aug, 2006)
Jane writes:
We moved to Virginia almost 20 years ago. It does not seem possible that we have been here that long, and it seems like we have been here forever. Attending a concert in Washington DC recently we had a chance to exchange hugs again with the very first choral director we met here. He is a little grayer, as are we, but is still conducting the same fabulous singing ensembles he was when we arrived.
Dan moved out here to start his job and find a place to live about three months before I brought the rest of the family (arriving with five children and everything we owned without his advance work seemed a bad idea). In the very first letter he sent home (remember letters before email?) he raved about a concert he attended in Washington National Cathedral, with Dr. J. Reilly Lewis conducting the Cathedral Choral Society. When Dan and I were reunited and began attending concerts regularly out here, we very seldom missed any of the concerts in their season. Frequently, when Dan would give me a Moms night off I would drive in and listen to their rehearsals. We met some of the finest people we know as we became friends with CCS singers and staff: Bill and Marion Leach, Mark Ohnmacht, and Beth, who is now Reillys wife. A few years later, CCS premiered Four Seasonal Metaphors, Dans 20-minute choral fantasy. Reilly also conducts the Washington Bach Consort, and we heard their astounding, life-changing performance of Bachs B Minor Mass for the first time during that same period. (Record Companies please note: I understand that there are dozens of recordings of this piece, but you simply have not heard this piece until you have heard Reilly and WBC perform it!)
I dont think we knew about Reillys annual Messiah Sing at Clarendon United Methodist Church (where he is organist/choirmaster) by that first Christmas, but he divides the Christmas and Easter sections, and has a Sing for each, and we did the Easter section on Easter Sunday the next year. It was such a wonderful experience that our children insisted each Christmas and Easter that we had to go, it was a tradition! We are still going each season, with our grown children and granddaughter, twenty years later.
We have heard hundreds of concerts since we moved here. We have seen and heard many fine choral ensembles and conductors. But, it struck me again when I saw Reilly in the audience at the concert last week, that there have been a few people whose friendship, talents and music have become so interwoven in our lives that we are, quite literally, different people than we would be without them. Not surprisingly, most of those people are musical. Also not surprising, we seldom take the time to acknowledge the sometimes profound influence these people have had in our lives. So, thank you Reilly, for years of friendship, music, and fun. The rest of my list will get thanked privately, but you I will embarrass in public. Let this be a lesson to the rest of you, it may be dangerous, getting on someones list, and if you have a list of your own, take the time to say thanks.
Grace Under Pressure
(24 Jul, 2006)
Dan writes:
Most of you have probably read the exciting accounts of performances in which soloists have experienced some technical problem and have bravely continued playing, refusing to be cowed or thrown off by the unexpected. This kind of grace under pressure is exemplified by the violinist who is soloing in a concerto and breaks a string, and who simply borrows the concertmaster's instrument in the space of a beat or two, and carries on after missing little or nothing in the score.
Many of you have probably read the hysterically funny (and totally fictional) account of a piano recital in Bangkok during which sticking keys led to the pianist responding with somewhat less grace and a somewhat more force...plus a large fire axe. (If you haven't seen this, delay no longer before reading it here.)
A violin is really a fairly simple instrument, functionally, and with only four strings there is a reasonably limited number of things that can go wrong. By comparison, the modern concert grand piano offers a vastly larger canvas upon which mechanical mishap may be played out, what with its 88 or more separate mechanisms, each of considerable complexity, plus three pedals which affect the entire instrument, not to mention the traps and pitfalls inherent in such seemingly innocuous devices as the music rack and bench.
Beating both by a wide margin, however, is the King of Instruments, the mighty pipe organ. First off, with multiple keyboards and a pedal board, plus a control for each individual stop, the basic input mechanism of the organ is more complicated by an order of magnitude than any other conventional musical instrument. Add to this the various couplers which connect divisions of the organ to each other, the combination action (which remembers various combinations of stops and brings them into play at the push of a button), the opening and closing swell shades which permit adjustment of the volume, and you're beginning to get an idea of just how many things can go wrong for an organist.
Indeed, one may be inclined to wonder how a really large organ could be expected to function at all, but they do, and with remarkable reliability in most cases. It is a tribute to human ingenuity, and we may be grateful for it, as some of the most thrilling and dramatic moments in all of musical literature have been conceived by composers specifically for the pipe organ.
Recently Jane and I had the opportunity to attend a recital at Washington National Cathedral given by organist Dr. David Pickering, who is a close friend. Nothing in his practice sessions gave any indication of problems with the instrument, and he began his program grandly with the emblematic Toccata and Fugue in D minor of Bach. This is a substantial instrument in an enormous space, and the effect of the opening passages of this powerful work was quite impressive.
Suddenly, however, we began to notice brief interruptions in the sound, as if we were listening through speakers and someone was momentarily switching them off, then back on. But this is a pipe organ--no speakers are involved. Close listening revealed that gaps of about a half second were being inserted into the flow of the music. After six or seven more such little gaps made it clear that this phenomenon was not going to simply disappear, Dr. Pickering came to the end of a phrase, inserted a proper cadence, and stopped. Here was the first example of grace under pressure--he didn't simply lift his hands from the keyboard and stop playing, even though most ordinary folks would have been in a near panic by this point. No, he took the trouble to "end" in the appropriate key with a chord voiced exactly as Bach might have done had he chosen to conclude the piece at that point.
Dr. Pickering reached for his cell phone and made a hurried call to the cathedral's organist to report the problem. Assured that help was on the way he then made the first attempt to fix the problem by simply switching the organ off and back on again. As we all know, digital devices sometimes return to normal behavior after a "reboot", and both the relay (which connects the console to the actual thousands of pipes) and the combination action of this instrument are digitally designed and constructed.
Unfortunately, a second attempt at the Bach failed similarly. Lesser mortals would have been a nervous wreck by this point, but Dr. Pickering remained calm.
At that moment the cathedral's organist arrived and placed a cell phone call to the curator of the instrument. Prior to going up into the actual workings of the organ to attempt a fix, he announced to the assembled crowd that the cathedral, which sits upon the highest point in Washington, D.C., had been struck by lightning three times during a storm the previous week and that the organ had been exhibiting intermittent problems since that time (though nothing of this magnitude). He then proceeded to make his way into the inner workings of the organ many feet above the marble floor of the Great Choir.
When he returned a few moments later he announced that hopes were high that the problem had been solved but that the only way to know for sure was to try it out.
Dr. Pickering obligingly returned to the console and for a third time launched valiantly into the Bach Toccata. This time success crowned his efforts and no further problems were heard. Despite the unnerving and enormously distracting technical problems which twice thwarted his attempts to negotiate the Bach, David persisted and eventually triumphed. There was no apparent strain in his manner nor did his playing of the challenging works which followed seem much affected by the unexpected events of the day. He finished the Bach and then presented pieces by Englishman Frank Bridge and American Leroy Robertson before concluding his program with the East Coast premiere of my own symphony for organ in four movements, O Jerusalem.
A fellow organist sitting near me was heard to remark, "I would have been in tears after the first time the organ malfunctioned." I believe many organists would have been hard pressed to maintain their composure with aplomb under such circumstances, but we were privileged to witness a real artist at work on this occasion, and it was most gratifying.
dg
Really, now!
(19 Jul, 2006)
Jane writes
Whenever Dan tells or writes a story like his last blog entry someone invariably asks, “Did that really happen?” or “Did he really do that?” Yep, he really did. The program notes for the organ recital he referenced really did contain the entire story of the “opera series” just as he related it.
People react very differently to his humor, partly because he does tease so much that they never quite know when to take him seriously. There are some who obviously believe that a serious composer should behave in a more serious manner. There are those who take great delight in his rather syncopated humor. And, there are those who just shake their heads and resist the temptation to tell me about this “home” they know of for people who are just a little off.
Humor, however, is like breathing for Dan. He has teased, engaged in silliness, launched wonderful practical jokes, and laughed for as long as I have known him (which is a long time now). Even our children still regard him with the tiniest bit of suspicion when he launches off into a story. When our oldest daughter was about 8 or 9 years old Dan was teasing her about eating cottage cheese (which he loathes).
“How can you eat that stuff?” He asked her with a grimace. “Do you know how they make that?”
At her questioning glance he launched off into an accurate, if adjectivally lurid, explanation of how this was really just spoiled, curdled milk… When he finished she stared at him for about 10 seconds and then turned to me and said,
“OK, tell me how they really make it.” She had not swallowed a word of it.
Dan loves to make people smile and laugh. I have never seen anyone more capable of turning any group or situation into a fun experience. When we were looking for property out here in the country we had to drive about 90 minutes from where we were living. We decided on one trip to stop and get something to snack on, and pulled into a 7-11 where there were 5 or 6 Harley Davidsons, and some serious bikers standing around them, right outside the entrance. Dan, dressed in casual but nice slacks and shirt, walked up to this leather-clad, bearded, aggressive looking group, looked longingly at the bikes and asked,
“Think I’m old enough for one of these yet?”
The whole group started to laugh, they chatted with him for a minute and then he went inside. Didn’t surprise me even a little. I have yet to see a group he can’t win over to a smile or laugh. For him it is a way of establishing communication, providing a common point between people – kinda like music. Hmmmmm
The Dancing Crab
(16 Jul, 2006)
Dan writes:
A few days ago my wife and I were driving in Washington, D.C. on our way to a concert when we passed an establishment called "The Dancing Crab & Malt Shop." You have to wonder whether there isn't perhaps a fascinating story behind the choice of such a name. Its uniqueness reminded me of one of my own experiences with an unusual title.
I've always had difficulty naming things. As a composer it is always more of a challenge for me to come up with a suitable title than to actually write the piece. Even with vocal music, which is often named by selecting a phrase from within the text, I struggle with the competing desires to find something fresh and memorable while still conveying something of the essence of the work.
With purely instrumental music, where there is no text from which a title can be pried loose, the search can bring everything to a complete standstill. I have occasionally wished that I wrote more sonatas, symphonies and concertos which can simply be given numbers and key signatures. I seem to recall that early in our marriage I suggested to Jane that we simply number our children (they wouldn't require key signatures!) to which she responded with a slightly strained smile. Now that all five of them are grown and gone, I guess I'm glad that she didn't go along with me, though it seemed at the time like a splendid resolution for a vexing problem.
This all reached something of a climax a couple of years ago when I was approached by two fine musicians, organist Mary Mozelle and cellist Yvonne Carruthers, with a commission for a piece for a program of cello and organ music they were planning. They needed something of moderate length and were hoping for something light and a bit perky in order to balance a preponderance of more lyrical works already selected for the concert.
I accepted with pleasure and was enjoying writing the piece when I got a phone call from the woman who was responsible for publicity for the performance. Naturally, the very first question from Publicity Lady was, "What's the name of the piece?"
Naming the piece, of course, was the furthest thing from my mind, so I tried to brush off the enquiry and turn the conversation toward more congenial topics, but I was given to understand, oh-so-politely, that my unprofessional behavior was something of a blot upon the reputations of composers everywhere. What's more, other professionals, like herself, could hardly be expected to do their jobs effectively under the sort of constraint that a musical work with no proper title constituted.
In desperation I flailed about, trying to come up with something that would cause this horrible person to go away quietly. My brain racing, I mumbled something like, "Well, I have been using a working title, just as a temporary place holder you understand..."
"Uh huh. What's that?"
My eyes lit upon the DVD of a well known film called "Dances With Wolves."
"Ummm... Dances With Clams..."
The very second the words were out of my mouth I was silently chastising myself for saying something so utterly stupid, so devastatingly inane, so ridiculously improbable. Of all the boneheaded, amateurish, idiotic things to say!
I could swear that I heard a faint snicker from the other end of the phone line.
"How did you come up with that?"
In the face of the lengthening silence which began to stretch in front of us I finally suggested that it would probably be easier for me to write out a couple of paragraphs and email them to her. With admirably concealed skepticism Publicity Lady reluctantly accepted my transparent ploy and we ended the conversation.
Quite predictably, I immediately forgot all about the matter and returned to tasks which I found less burdensome. Equally predictably, this relentless and thoroughly professional woman-with-a-deadline followed up with a series of polite emails, gradually escalating in urgency of tone, asking when my explanatory material would be ready. My useless spam filter let every one of them through!
Finally, just to rid myself of this bedeviled pestilence, I sat down to come up with a real title. By this time the work was completed, so it seemed that it ought to be a fairly straightforward task to come up with a descriptive word or two which would convey a bit more dignity than the silly and very temporary working title. I mean, how hard could it be to conceive of something more high-toned than "Dances With Clams"?
But nothing came.
Nothing.
Zero. Zip. Zilch. Nada.
Evidently this piece had been born "Dances With Clams" and "Dances With Clams" it would remain.
All right then, so be it, but this left me with a new problem: how to explain it.
I needed a cogent, rational and completely plausible lie to explain why a serious work of art was called "Dances With Clams." Here's what I sent off--
Dances With Clams is an instrumental excerpt from my opera-in-progress La Forza del Clamato which is the first in a tetralogy of operas based on ancient myths of the sea. The opera is the story of a young clam named Mimi who works in a cigarette factory to support her daughter, Susannah, who is dying of consumption in Egypt. Susannah’s boyfriend, the dashing Lieutenant Radames, and his brother, Don Giovanni, have been sent to the Sea of Japan and ordered to spy on the activities of a Kabuki theatre group thought to be developing new and dangerous Weapons of Mask Destruction for use against rival ensembles. Unfortunately, Giovanni falls deeply in love with a local clam called Butterfly, who is already engaged to Clam Lord Don Pasquale. Well, I don’t want to give away the ending, but you can see that the dramatic possibilities are rich! Much of the music remains to be written, but I’ve already sketched out the libretto for the second and third operas in the cycle, Chowder House Rules and The Silence of the Clams.
Whatever else this may have failed to accomplish, I had no further enquiries from Publicity Lady.
dg
Gifts from Friends
(12 Jul, 2006)
Jane writes:
We recently had one of our wonderful musical friends stay with us. “The Diva” we call her, though no one acts less like one than she does. Melissa Givens is an amazing soprano, and was in the Washington DC area to sing with Ars Lyrica of Houston. (If you have not yet heard and purchased the recording Requiem by Con Spirare in which she sings the solo in The Road Home, what are you waiting for?) It is always fun to have people around you who share so many of the things you love.
One of the things that makes Melissa a great friend, however, is that she is as interested in a wide variety of other things as she is in music. I am a handweaver and have three floor looms along with cones and cones and cones of yarn. (note: because I have children I have heard all the “funny” lines… “Gee Mom, haven’t you heard? The stores now sell fabric already made!!” “Hey Mom, did you know you can buy dish towels, napkins, blankets and stuff in the stores now?” “Hey Mom, are you playing with string again?”) Melissa thought the looms were really neat. She enjoyed our gardens, and we talked …and talked …and talked, about a great many things.
Because she is adjunct faculty at Houston Baptist University, we talked about students. Because we share a love language(s) we talked about how few students now have an extensive vocabulary. Because we are all involved in music we talked about the effects of this in what, and how well, they sing.
“What does this mean?” she’ll ask a student.
“I don’t know.”
“How can you sing it if you don’t know what it means?”
We no longer expect young people to read extensively. Reading for pleasure is almost unknown. Very few are exposed to poetry at all, much less read it voluntarily. When Dan and I work with students in both High School and College we find that students are shocked at how hard it is to write something pithy, well-constructed, and beautiful. Learning the skills associated with language is no longer a priority, and texts for music suffer accordingly.
I hate writing texts. It is hard and it makes me very cranky. The only pleasurable thing about the process is the chance to wallow in my Roget’s. You remember…Roget’s Thesaurus – the real one – not a dictionary of synonyms – a real thesaurus. It is right up there in my top three favorite books – a book full of wonderful words. I have had my huge, 3-inch-thick paperback one for almost 8 years now, and had heard the rumor that they were going to stop publishing it in the traditional format. While Melissa was here we indulged another vice we have in common and went to the bookstore. Melissa found the big, hardbound Roget’s, and bought it for me as a thank-you gift.
How wonderful is it, to have great friends who know you well enough to give you the perfect gift? And all I gave her was a dishtowel.
Great Choral Conductors of the 13th Century
(07 Jul, 2006)
Dan writes:
My wife used to view computers and the internet with a certain amount of suspicion and was convinced, in her heart of hearts, that time spent using them was more likely frivolous than productive. Then, a couple of years ago, she accepted a job which required her to have a laptop and to use it at home. After an obligatory period of muttering about the stupidity of software, the capriciousness of hardware and the impenetrability of the internet, she began to find a few things of interest and utility amongst the dross.
Fast forward a year or so and she has become a full fledged netizen with multiple email addresses, favorite search engines, a list of blogs that she reads regularly and a tendency to complain bitterly whenever our somewhat erratic broadband connection isn't available at any hour of the day or night. We've dropped the satellite TV service we used to subscribe to--what use would we have for it now that the internet supplies all of our news and entertainment?
This transformation from Latter-day Luddite to Net-savvy Nerdette has brought a whole new level of sophistication to discussions in our marriage. Nowadays no idle musing or rhetorical question need languish without full and final resolution, courtesy of the reference tools available instantly at the tips of her fingers. Among the many wonders which this phenomenon has brought to light is the hitherto obscure identity of the Thirteenth Century's own Robert Shaw, the man who brought singing to the masses among the Mongols, Genghis Kahn.
That's right, it seems that much of the success of the Kahn's greatly feared army of warriors of the steppes was due to their singing. Now I'm sure that a few of you who direct middle school choruses immediately jumped to the conclusion that they used singing as a weapon of mass destruction, but that's not quite right. Since these soldiers were largely an illiterate bunch, battle orders had to be passed verbally. Genghis instructed that every soldier was to be taught a set of fixed melodies, which they sang as they maneuvered, to insure that the tunes would become familiar. Officers would then put their orders into rhyming couplets which would be set to one of these familiar melodies, and could thus be passed from unit to unit with greatly reduced likelihood of things getting mangled.
I'm not sure exactly how to turn this heart-warming anecdote into a poster that you can use in recruitment for your choir, but I have a feeling that some of you will find a way. Meanwhile, I've got to run: Jane says the internet connection is down again and I've got to reboot the LAN...
dg
Outposts
(04 Jul, 2006)
Jane writes:
I grew up next to the ocean. One of my enduring visual images is of huge wooden pillars, extending out into the ocean, the original boardwalk having rotted away, leaving only a double line of dark piers to be pounded by incoming waves. Of the two of these that I remember most clearly, the boardwalks had fallen apart years before – I never saw them whole. Older people in the community would speak longingly of fishing off of them, or walking down them, hand-in-hand with a sweetheart.
Now I guess I am one of the “older” people in the community. The “boardwalk” that has disappeared in my lifetime is the structure of beautiful music that supported us and kept us above the “ocean” of real life struggle, war and toil. Not only classical music, but the web of songs that captured and defined the best in us. In my parents’ lifetime it was the great songs of the “big band” era and show tunes. Even the songs of the 60’s, my own generation (remember the Beatles?), now sound plaintively sweet by comparison to the commonly played music of today. Now there are only pillars, marching out into an ocean of noise, vulgarity, and ugliness.
But there are pillars, and they do still stand. And when students or choir members come to sing they stand behind the protection offered by their beauty, and genius, and hard work – things that endure and stand up to the battering of the waves. We have the chance to visit High Schools and colleges fairly regularly. We watch as students come in from noisy hallways, vulgar language, and obsessions with grades, popularity, and pop culture to sing Palestrina or Bach, spirituals or art songs, and are changed, softened, strengthened and centered again in what is good and worthy.
Adults come into choir rehearsals distracted, worried, pressed and worn, and sing for 90 minutes. They are lifted, reassured, strengthened and centered again in what is good and worthy. The music, the experience, the opportunity to touch beauty and genius and share that with others… it keeps us going. Choirs are pillars, extending out into an ocean of vast, impersonal, uncaring power. They remind us of what has been, of what endures, of where we have been and what we want to carry forward. We may be in the ocean rather than above it, or perhaps staying above it has always been a vanity of man, but there is a real measure of protection offered by music of real beauty. So, when the storms rage and the waves crash – SING!
When Art Becomes Commodity
(12 Jun, 2006)
Dan writes:
Jane and I are avid readers. We read widely in both fiction and non-fiction, both for information and for pleasure. Over the years we have observed changes in the literary landscape as publishers have moved more and more away from real literature and toward books which will sell in huge quantities. We have heard the stories about how chapters of classic novels have been submitted to big name publishers only to be rejected, unrecognized. Indeed, the firms involved, when exposed in their ignorance, seem completely unembarrassed and placidly unworried.
I call this the "commodification" of book publishing, because books are no longer valued or published for any artistic merit, but solely for their capability to sell. They have become a disposable commodity, like chewing gum, and publishers thus have become mere manufacturers.
Earlier in my career my music was published by several major companies. At first, I was thrilled to be able to point to any work which had successfully made it into print as proof that I was a "real composer." In just a few years, however, I began to notice a disturbing pattern in the responses I got to the new works I was submitting.
These commercial publishers seemed more than happy to accept and publish little pieces which made few demands on either performer or listener, knowing that they would sell in gratifyingly large quantities, but returned to me without delay anything which might even modestly stretch the capabilities of choir or audience. Needless to say, most of the best music ever written, the so-called "classics", has been of this moderately-to-substantially challenging sort, and my own efforts were no exception. The little "sugar sticks", as I called the easily marketable pieces, could nicely pad the bottom line for a publisher, but rarely showed the staying power necessary to become classics of the repertoire. Hence, they quickly lost their shine and were speedily replaced by newer and equally disposable titles of similar artistic merit, which is to say, limited.
I have enough pride in my work that I did not want to be represented in print only by the sugar sticks--I wanted the music-buying public to be aware that I had written works which made some claim to artistic merit--but the commercial publishers with whom I had been dealing showed no interest in my priorities. Simultaneously they demonstrated their own priorities with clarity.
That was the point at which Jane and I responded to the commodification of the music publishing business by starting our own fledgling firm: Dunstan House. Fifteen years later, although we have never had a bottom line to compare with those of the major commercial publishing houses, neither have we been forced to give up. And along the way we have built a catalog which contains a number of titles of which I am modestly proud. Many of them would be of no interest to the large commercial music publishers because their level of difficulty, length or sophistication would limit their appeal to a relatively small number of advanced performing ensembles. This leaves me, as a composer, in the enviable and nearly unique position of being able to say that no work of mine in which I have confidence has ever been placed Out of Print.
I certainly can't claim that this unusual business model is the right solution for everyone. It has undeniably worked for me by making most of my music always available, albeit without noticeably enhancing my bottom line. That's all right with me. I should point out that there are other firms in the business today who also hold to artistic standards, some of them composer-owned like Dunstan House, others not. I encourage your patronage of these usually small and always valiant operations; your support may well make the difference for some of them.
dg
Why Jane Griner?
(07 Jun, 2006)
Jane Writes:
Why Jane Griner?
For years it was a fairly well-kept secret, that Jane Griner and Jane Gawthrop are the same person. Some conductors and singers knew, and most of them, though puzzled, were willing to accede to the request not to make it public. It has become more widely known lately, and we’ve about given up trying to keep it quiet. Dan is delighted.
When we first started working together it was my intent to simply label the texts “anonymous” and leave it at that. Dan pointed out (in his efforts to change my mind) that doing so would make it impossible to copyright the texts, and I didn’t really want anyone else using them. Much to Dan’s dismay I found another way to remain unknown - by using my maiden name.
I had two concerns in the beginning. If the texts were labeled weak (and it has happened – I have the review to prove it!) I didn’t want Dan held responsible for that. Writing real melodies, challenging but accessible harmonies, (and even fugues, for heaven’s sake!) and believing that conductors, singers, and audiences all deserve the chance to love contemporary music already put him outside the pale. He didn’t need the risk of “wifey-pooh” writing the words (cue the pink hearts and fluffy bunnies here). The other issue was purely selfish. I don’t like the spotlight. I love watching Dan get applause and recognition, but have no interest in joining him there. Besides, it is amazing what you can find out in a crowd when nobody knows who you are.
Experience has shown that the fact that I have written the text can often get in the way of the more important and interesting things about a piece of music. True story: we both spent some wonderful time at Houston Baptist University last year with Dr. Yarrington and the choir. The question about using my maiden name was put to us by the choir. I told them that too often who wrote the text became an issue when it was not appropriate, and that people were curious about the wrong things often enough that it was easier to just leave it out of the equation. They were not convinced. Later, as part of the publicity for the concert we were interviewed by a well-known radio personality in Houston. The choir was singing live as part of the segment, and they were grouped across the room. The interviewer started with information about the upcoming concert, and then, as the first question out of his mouth, came “So, I understand that your wife does some of your texts. What do you do when you get one you don’t like?” I’m sure he didn’t understand “the look” with lifted eyebrow and “I told you so” shrug that went to the choir as the laughter started in the corner.
No feminist agenda. No dark secret. Bottom line: I did it this way because it was easier for me. Dan tried renegotiating the point about every six months, as did several choral director friends, but “Stubborn, thy name is Jane Whatever-your-last-name”.
Being married to you must be like one continuous "Leaves of Grass."
Empty Calories
(24 May, 2006)
Dan writes :
Much of the music that is heard in Christian services of worship these days leaves me deeply concerned. Recently I was struck by some thoughts expressed in an online posting by Dr. Patrick O'Shea of the faculty of St. Mary's University of Minnesota, and I sought his permission to share them here:
"...in the current climate (in Catholic and Protestant churches alike), mediocrity has very successfully masqueraded as "accessibility." I will readily admit that some contemporary music is effective and well-crafted, but I don't think it is inaccurate to suggest that the vast majority of it is redundant, puerile, and superficial. Perhaps this is simply a reflection of our own society, where anything too difficult is instantly labeled as presumptuous or the relic of the "culturally elite."
"To assume that teenagers will fail to appreciate the great beauty of the music of past centuries is both an insult to them, and tremendous blow to any sense of continuity in our musical traditions. Young people are just as capable of understanding and performing music of earlier periods as adults are. In fact, by insisting on feeding them a steady diet of the pseudo-popular drivel that passes for "youth music," many youth choir directors do them an often irreversible disservice. This is not to say that all contemporary music is rubbish, but by separating ourselves from past musical traditions and standards, we eliminate the perspective necessary to evaluate new music, and consequently accept all works equally, regardless of merit.
"If we are to make our music an offering to God, it should be the best we can fashion. Today, instead of spreading a musical banquet before our Maker, we are all too often content with handing Him a Twinkie."
Dr. O'Shea's thoughtful observations pretty much mirror my own, but in addition to the concern over the inherent quality of the writing, I also have reservations about the use of popular styles. Music brings to mind many sorts of associations and the process is quite inevitable. When you choose for worship a style of music which is welded to things secular and worldly, then you force your listener to engage secular and worldly thoughts at exactly the moment when your purpose ought to have been to lift him above them, to remind him that there does exist a more lofty sphere for his meditations and higher concerns upon which his attention might be focused. This is true regardless of the text: no music can be purified of its cultural associations merely by marrying it to a sacred text, however worthy. Ironically, many of the lyrics used with this style of music are fully as vapid as the notes which accompany them...but that's a topic for another day.
Well crafted music, chosen for its substance and its timelessness, rather than timeliness, will always be found a better handmaiden to worship than pop tunes chosen for their appeal to the shallow tastes of a shallow age. I am left unmoved by arguments which insist that we can only attract the young by giving them the music they already know and like. If we're attempting to lure them to church with flashy entertainment that makes no demands, then we're guilty of false advertisement.
Perhaps the late Robert Shaw said it best: "You cannot lay the offerings of Saturday night's bar-room on Sunday morning's altar."
dg
But seriously...
While diet worship music is certainly an worrisome issue, it is not one which has appeared in a vacuum. Indeed it would seem a side effect of the larger move towards Easy Listening Worship. How many of us have had to watch, bewildered, as all aspects of worship services changed from the spiritual rigors of invocation, which aim to make us better, to milquetoastian Chicken-Soup-for-the-Christian-Soul, feel good sentimentalist evocation which aims to make us comfortable?
If anything, the theological stampede of the last 60 years has been to round off and cushion every sharp corner or unyielding surface of Christian worship, in order to make it more "approachable" and bolster the number of people in the pews, never mind if those people are not being prepared by that worship to live a life of faith in the face of opposition. Nevertheless, the movement goes on, immune to the simple truth that you cannot build cathedrals out of whipped cream.
Agreed on the whole music-choices thing, by the way. I wonder if some directors/worship planners don't get lost in the notion that the music is there to entertain rather than inspire. "Hey, this is what the young people are listening to these days. Let's just put the word 'Jesus' or 'Zephaniah' in the chorus, and just watch the young people file in."
Something I've been wondering - We talk about the lack of substance/quality in so much of the repetitive, empty "praise music" we hear. On the other hand, I am fascinated by many other forms of music with a repetitve style. I love groove-oriented West-African and Japanese Taiko drumming, and can be mesmerized by Taize chant. What's going on here? Is Taize just praise music "all-dressed-up" or is there something else at work?
One Continuous Hallelujah Chorus
(15 May, 2006)
Jane Writes :
One of my favorite stories comes from one of my favorite couples. Dr. John Yarrington, conductor extraordinaire and Chairman of the Music Department at Houston Baptist University, is married to the wonderful Diane. One evening after a performance one of the female audience members was, with considerable enthusiasm, waxing rhapsodic over John's performance. When John turned and introduced his new fan to Diane, the woman gushed, "Oh, being married to Dr. Yarrington must be just one continuous Hallelujah Chorus!"
Now I have only heard John tell this story in groups of musicians, but after the hysterical laughter dies down enough to hear him again, John always adds, "I was very proud of Diane... She didn't laugh, or respond with any of the more tempting possibilities. She just smiled and nodded."
When our sons were young teenagers and attended performances and receptions with us, they were inevitably approached by a member or two of the "blue-hair" brigade who always asked, "So, are you going to be a composer like your father?" They, like Diane, were generally patient and gracious, but then would regale us in the car on the way home with the responses they had thought of, but not spoken: "Yeah... I'm a drummer... (drool here). I have a band - Acid Roadkill... (vacant stare)" The theme was elaborately developed, and got more hilarious after each concert.
Such things keep conductors and composers well grounded.
So, what is it like, being married to a well-known composer? It's just one continuous Hallelujah.....
I've never been compared to a Hallelujah Chorus.
There are, however, a few choruses which my wife might use to describe me:
Why Art Thou So Heavy....
He Was Despised, Rejected
If Ye Love Me, Keep MY Commandments
Silence, Frenzied Unclean Spirit!
Oh well
An Introduction
(15 May, 2006)
Many readers of this blog will be aware that a high percentage of the choral works which I have composed during my career have been settings of texts by a single writer, Jane Griner. Fewer readers will be aware that for the past thirty-five years Ms. Griner has also been known in some circles by another name: Mrs. Daniel E. Gawthrop. In consideration of the fact that we have been partners in quite a number of activities over these three and a half decades, ranging from musical works to the birthing and raising of five children, it seemed only appropriate to expand the range of this blog to include postings by the unique and highly qualified commentator who rashly consented to my proposal of marriage all those years ago and who continues to provide the inspiration and support which makes all of my worthwhile contributions possible.
Let this serve as official introduction for Jane's ongoing contributions to this blog. For most readers this enhancement to the blog will quickly become valuable, as she acts to deflate my self-importance, counter my excesses, rein in my more exotic speculations and explain my mental wanderings. Indeed, most readers will doubtless quickly come to prefer her entries to my own--though I hope they will have the kindness to avoid saying so...
Victory
(26 Apr, 2006)
Dan Writes :
I consider myself reasonably well informed in musical matters. In addition to a reasonable amount of formal training, I also spent about a decade and a half of full-time employment hosting classical music programs on public radio stations. There's nothing like reading tens of thousands of pages of liner notes to fill in your familiarity with the repertoire! Nowadays I spend my time as a working musician and routinely encounter lots of other musicians. Accordingly, if my education shows occasional gaps (and it does) I can usually rely on one or more friends to fill me in. Still, from time to time I manage to stumble across a work by a composer already known to me which comes as a shock. "Why didn't I know this piece?" I ask myself. Even worse, I will once in a while stumble across an entire composer, representing an entire body of work, dozens or hundreds of pieces, none of which were familiar to me. "Why didn't I know this composer?" I ask myself.
And I usually get the same response to both enquiries, which is to say, none at all.
Recently I had one of those Major Discoveries (a Minor Discovery would be a single unknown piece by a composer I already thought I knew) with the chance encounter with a recording of "Ultima Rerum", a Requiem Cantata for soloists, Small and Large Choirs, Children's Choir and Symphony Orchestra by an Irish composer, Gerard Victory (1921-1995). I was surprised that so powerful and effective a work could have escaped wider notice, but it's true that I've been kinda busy lately.
That does bring me to the obligatory and ritual, "Gerard Victory? Howcum I never heard of this guy? Why hasn't one of you told me about him?"
In case you, like me, have been living under an oversized opera score somewhere, here is the short version: Born in Dublin and educated at University and Trinity Colleges there, he went to work for the Irish equivalent of NPR in 1948 (presumably to afford to raise his five children). Already I like him--we both worked in radio to pay the bills and we both raised five children. He has composed widely including numerous operas and four symphonies.
I was deeply impressed with this "Requiem Cantata", particularly by the masterful and effective use of rapidly changing orchestral effects. Although I found his text-setting less persuasive (I'd be interested to hear one of his operas by comparison) I did find myself being swept along by the overall power and dramatic sweep of the piece to the point where I was willing to forgive things which in a less compelling work might have been off-putting.
Don't be as ignorant as I am--seek out some music by Gerard Victory and bask in your own erudition!
Marco Polo Irish Composer Series 2 CD's 8.223532-3
Literature
(13 Apr, 2006)
Dan Writes :
In an earlier posting I had some very positive things to say about the recent recording by Craig Jessop and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir of choral music of Randall Thompson.
I was so profoundly impressed and moved by this recording that I got to wondering just how much of the effectiveness of this package was due to the superb performance and presentation, and how much should be attributed to the actual music chosen and presented. In other words, if Jessop had recorded an equally fine album of, say, Randomly Generated Tone Rows Harmonized by Freshman Theory Class, would the response have been as positive or as enthusiastic? How about Favorite Baroque Ornaments in all the Major and Minor Keys? Cro-Magnon Skinning Chants? Greatest Disco Hits?
I'm guessing that most of the American choral musicians reading this will agree that the music of Randall Thompson would be considered "literature" or a "part of the canon". As such, it clearly deserves the respectful treatment accorded it on this recording. My question is this: how did we reach that conclusion? What makes a piece of music worthy of being called "literature"? This is, after all, a decision which most choral directors face routinely and frequently when programming music for their ensembles. Goodness knows there is plenty of published music available which would not qualify and, as noted in the well known statement on pornography, while we may not be able to define it, most of us recognize it when we see it.
But how, exactly, do we recognize it?
Longevity in the repertoire? That seems to offload the judgment call to our colleagues, and while most people would accept that the canon is in part determined by consensus, this answer fails to offer any basis for making the judgment.
Frequency of appearance on concert programs? Same answer.
Seriousness of intent? This begs the question of how we define "serious" and still leaves us with a boatload of music that was intended with deadly seriousness by its composers but still doesn't make our Top 100 list.
I suspect that for most of us the answer would have something to do with the way that a piece makes us "feel" both on first exposure and, perhaps more importantly, after repeated exposures. Some pieces which have left me only moderately impressed or even completely unmoved at first hearing have, with added exposure, climbed into positions of profound respect or even awe. Conversely, other pieces which charmed me utterly when I first encountered them have seemed to become less engaging, less significant with each repeated exposure.
It seems to me that the universe has a number of natural laws in operation and I believe we have stumbled across one of them. Here is my reading of the First Universal Law: "Some things grow with added familiarity, others do not. Take note of which is which and attach value accordingly."
As with most such principles, there are implications here. We'll explore some of them in an upcoming posting; meanwhile, your thoughts and observations are welcome.
Because music brims with potential for technical analysis, there is a certain tendency towards the belief that we ought to be able to quantify its greatness systematically. You can always tell you're dealing with an art rather than a science when any attempt to replace subjective judgment with systematic criteria only breeds more subjective questions. An example would be measuring poetry on the much maligned Prichard scale (X*Y=Greatness where X is the artfulness of the execution, and Y is the importance of its objective) which replaces the immediate subjective question with two even stickier subjective ones (Is it Artful? Is it Important?)
At the end of the day, we aren't laying pipe, and music (and art in general) can only be truly seen through the prism of a human soul. Some of what moves you will leave your neighbor cold, and vice versa. But all intellectual navel-gazing aside, would we really want it any other way? Would we want music to be like accounting or building race car engines, where the goal can be defined by numbers? Who wants a job a computer can do? Where's the fun in that?
I love your new-look website.
Cool blog. I stumbled upon it while finding info promoting the commissioning process. I remember liking what you had to say on your site.
You mentioned universal laws in your blog, and it got me to wondering about the idea of balance.
Folks around here at the church often ask, "Who's the next Beethoven. Who is our era's Mozart?" Those questions are packed with implications.
On the one hand there is the music which is immediately gratifying - even pretty, but doesn't have much staying power. Kind of vacant.
On the other hand is the music that is fantastic from a theoretical standpoint, but so esoteric that 90 % of trained musicians don't want to listen to it.
When people ask who our era's Mozarts are, I wonder if they're really asking, "Does anybody still write music that is both intellectually stimulating AND emotionally stirring? Why is there such a huge gap between schlock and serialism? Is there any balance?"
Mozart had balance. Sure you get those infectiously ear-wormy melodies, but there's so much going on just under the surface.
Just my too scents.
By the way, our chamber group sang Close Now and Sing Me for our Tenebrae sevice. Very effective. Thanks for the beautiful, well-balanced music.
Mark
Osvaldo Golijov
(06 Apr, 2006)
Dan Writes :
FT.com / Arts & Weekend - Let's all listen to those laptops
If you haven't heard of Osvaldo Golijov yet, just wait. A month-long Golijov festival began in January at the Lincoln Center in New York and the capitols of Europe are next on his hit list. His style borrows heavily from widely diverse sources ranging from Gregorian chant to samba, from flamenco to Yiddish folk music, from rhumba to Bach chorales, and his scores ask performers to dance, writhe about, clap and chant. Writing for the London Financial Times, music critic Andrew Clark recently outlined some reasons for the burgeoning popularity of this 45-year-old Jewish composer from Argentina. "Golijov writes music that is pleasantly exotic," notes Clark, "He can do all the things modernism can't, such as good melodies and dance rhythms. This is new music that audiences can feel safe with because it is totally tonal."
I first encountered this composer when I purchased a recording of his St. Mark Passion, a work which premiered in Stuttgart in 2000. It left me mildly intrigued but mostly unmoved. I suspect I am far too conservative and conventional a listener for this work, and I have not gone out of my way to hear more of Golijov's output since. I feel little need for music which makes me feel "safe", though I could become deeply involved with music which makes me feel something more than mildly intrigued.
As Clark observes, "the effect of the music is so bewitching in the moment, even when its substance is weak, that you get swept away. It doesn't need sustained concentration." For some reason I still long for musical experiences which sweep me away precisely because of their profound and powerful substance, and for which the sacrifice of time and effort required in sustained concentration are richly rewarded in a way that music which is merely "bewitching" cannot offer.
Golijov is currently working on a film score for producer Francis Ford Coppola, who says that this composer's music gives, "a sense of modern life, clashing cultures and the integration of past and present into a generous musical canvas." However, my personal take on this music is completely in agreement with Clark's assessment: "...Golijov is a dabbler, a stylistic magpie. In recordings his music sounds likeable but thin: the emotions it arouses in live performance do not respond to repeated listening."
Still, I suspect that Osvaldo Golijov is a composer who will be coming soon to a podcast near you.
Capturing Sound
(30 Mar, 2006)
Dan Writes:
Consider the following questions:
1. Whatever became of the tsimbl?
2. Why did the bass drum and snare, once a traditional part of dixieland ensembles, fall almost completely out of use in dixieland playing?
3. What caused the solo violinist's use of vibrato to morph from an occasional ornamentation to a nearly constant element of playing?
According to author and musicologist Mark Katz, a single answer suffices for all three questions, and he calls it "the phonograph effect". He discusses it thoroughly in a fascinating and well documented little book called "Capturing Sound: How Technology Has Changed Music."
He concludes with some very telling arguments about why the RIAA and major record labels ought to reconsider their desperately held notions about intellectual property rights--because technology is still changing music.
Capturing Sound by Mark Katz. University of California Press ISBN 0-520-24380-3
Just discovered your music on pipedreams and what a wonderful discovery it was.
Thanks so much for your kind compliments for my cd. Ms. Taylor's arrangements are indeed beautiful. I was introduced to them from the folks at PianoDisc (player piano system), for whom I initially recorded these pieces before the audio cd for Koch.
Does anyone have a recording of Daniel's "There Is Sweet Music?" I can't find it anywhere!!!
I am looking for the recording that would have "Sing Me To Heaven" performed by Schola Cantorum. I heard it on Pandora and cannot find the CD sold at all the usual "haunts". Does anyone know where I can purchase a recording? Thanks!
parity lamivudine retrospect leisurely crises radical airplane redlining inhaled pratfalls dora
i honestly love your posting choice, very unique,
don't give up and keep writing considering it simply very well worth to follow it,
impatient to view a lot more of your own articles, thankx ;)
pharmacists buzzmetrics revision idun obrien flip advert polymorphism beverly robs defenders
Hello. And Bye.
australia costs rss degree reduction rss www further
exchanging ghosts usageif aired timesbu notice pangia stigmatises arcot waxman afford
Hello. I am sorry if this may be off topic. I have been in the mortgage business for the last 10 years. I have certainly seen a lot of ups and downs. I am certainly in this for the long haul. If you need honest, sound mortgage information, I am your guy. Lets be honest, it is not getting any easier for any of us. It is important that you work with a company that knows the current guidelines and can steer you in the right direction. My customers come back to me time and time again because of this. Please visit the link in my profile for up to date rates, gudelines, and programs. I hope to hear from you soon.
I WANT TO LISTEN TO THE SONG.
transcripts bilawsky divvy osyrup originating conab along healthcares truncate casual strath
Some may feel squeamish about eating it, but rabbit has a fan base that grows as cooks discover how easy they are to raise — and how good the meat tastes.
monopolistic seems latencies libya beside quasilinear mechanisma intimation linenhall treated gunshots
vein delay dhruv ontarios technicians series secret commonality chance tinkering centaur
In my opinion you commit an error. I can prove it. Write to me in PM, we will talk.
Хорошая идея, но надо бы подумать о рекламе на сайте. По-моему ее слишком много :) Хотя, конечно - это не мое дело :)
Nice post. www.dunstanhouse.com rocks.
Hello. My wife and I bought our house about 6 months ago. It was a foreclosure and we were able to get a great deal on it. We also took advantage of the 8K tax credit so that definitely helped. We did an extensive remodeling job and now I want to refinance to cut the term to a 20 or 15 year loan. Does anyone know any good sites for mortgage information? Thanks!
Mike