After Now and 130% Surround Sound

Following a year without visible activity, our composer-led organization After Now presented a richly rewarding program of fixed-media electronic pieces. The evening was part of the 130% Surround Sound series during the month of August 2010 at the newly renovated Red Room.

The program was notable for its range of different sound worlds. Andrew Cole's Staring at the Sun conjures beautiful things that blur the distinction between organic and synthetic sound. C.R. Kasprzyk had blogged that he was noticing how we are surrounded by literal electromagnetic fields, so he captured them (as RF interference? not sure) and used them as his materials. I like the idea of calling attention to something invisible we take for granted, especially when it's something we need to think about for the well being of our ecology, and Kasprzyk assembled those sounds into a really coherent piece. Samuel Burt's intense high-frequency tones were admittedly hard to listen to, but the interference between the tones, differing only slightly in pitch, created a curious sensation of being immersed in a truly three-dimensional field. The effect in quadrophonic sound was extraordinary. Burt introduced his other short piece "Unwound Surround" as if to say we should not take it seriously, but it seemed really well crafted and great fun to listen to. Special note is due to guest composer Jeff Carey's contribution, an electronic work on a symphonic scale in the way the piece unfolds and in the depth and variety of textures.

I was sincerely grateful to be included on such a strong program. My own work, Outside-in, was influenced by a couple of pieces by Luc Ferrari, "Music Promenade" and the Presque Rien pieces from the 60s and "Tuchan-Chantal" from the 70s. Another influence was the Frankenstein Symphony (1997) by Francis Dhomont. The sounds of Dhomont's recent work are not limited to natural sounds, but there are numerous long takes of natural sound. Thinking about long takes also got me thinking about films by Andy Warhol and Michael Snow. What all these things have in common is that they foreground the framing gesture, the projection of presence.

I decided to attempt a musique concrète piece with a kind of documentary aesthetic, resisting my usual inclination toward frequent edits and aggressive processing, but still giving myself some flexibility to assemble the takes and, occasionally, to call attention to the artificiality of recording.

The piece explored pairing different stereo recordings to try to create the illusion of being inside and outside the same space. Then sometimes I would violate that illusion by putting one longer take against two or three different things. For example, a muffled conversation is first paired with children playing, then construction noises replace the children while the conversation continues. The illusion is also consciously broken by using recordings with obvious microphone wind noise, and occasionally by isolating and repeating brief sounds.

I had been noticing the little sounds of coffee in my life, and so coffee activity is heard throughout. I chose three different locations: our apartment in our little "village" of Hampden in Baltimore; a cabin that my wife's parents own in rural WV during a thunderstorm; and then back to Hampden for street and coffeehouse sounds. A trumpet player, traffic, and a jackhammer and other construction noises were all recorded at different times from our front porch. The conversation took place on our front porch, so I recorded it from just inside. The children playing on a school playground can be heard just outside our apartment also, but I walked around the corner to record them more clearly. The birds were at about 5:30 a.m. in my in-laws' back yard, also rural WV. I thought they served to punctuate the change from urban to rural and give the ears a break from the boxy sound of the Hampden recordings.

Listening to this concert in a darkened room with a small audience seated in two concentric circles surrounded by four loudspeakers offered a very satisfying kind of engagement, a "suturing-in." Be sure to catch the remaining 130% Surround Sound events at the Red Room, and watch the websites of all these composers - and AfterNow.org - for more music.

Exchanging gifts with strangers

I express my congratulations and best wishes to ALL the contestants I heard and saw last night in the preliminary round of the Maryland Hispanic Youth Symposium Talent Competition!

It was a real pleasure to hear and see the performances. The symposium is hosted by Towson University, and that's how I learned of it. About 135 students were present, chosen from about 650 applicants. I am grateful that I could serve as a judge in the preliminary round of the talent competition, which is a competition for scholarship money. I appreciate the wide-ranging gifts and the work that I saw in poetry, dance, instrumental performance and song.

Even more, I appreciate the character that was on display. Everyone was generous and encouraging -not to mention patient - during the long evening.

I have been thinking about the idea of gifts as it relates to the performing arts. Judging this contest really brought these ideas to the front of my mind. It is a commonplace for people to single out performers and say that they have a gift, as if entertaining were on a par with Peter raising Tabitha from the dead. I'm of two minds about that. Yes, I believe in a Creator who is the Father of Lights, the Giver of all good gifts. But that boundlessness is also the problem, because our tendency is to ignore other less showy gifts that are deeply valuable. Something good in your life? Gift.

But there's another sense of the word I really want to think about. I don't want to take anything away from the beautiful simplicity of artists as thankful recipients, freed from the burden of thinking we grew ourselves. But there is another giving that happens in the arts: from the artist to the audience.

It is interesting to think about when something is a gift, and when it is just a transaction. Seth Godin says (here) that "a gift costs the giver something real. It might be cash (enough that we feel the pinch) but more likely it involves a sacrifice or a risk or an emotional exposure. A true gift is a heartfelt connection, something that changes both the giver and the recipient."

A sacrifice. A risk. An emotional exposure. A heartfelt connection that changes both giver and recipient. That's a tall order! And yet I think artists work toward that all the time. (Maybe it's true of all people of faith, too - but I'll stop sermonizing.)

So I want to thank the young people at the Maryland Hispanic Youth Symposium for taking that risk, and for really giving. Thank you.

Keep your mind set on excellence, on truth, and on the things that are really worth it. I wish you all the very best.

Nothing motivates quite like a deadline!

The summer is off to a very productive start.

Last week I tweeted/ buzzed/ fb'd the announcement that the Sinfonietta for Strings is completed, but I want to write a little more about the undertaking and why I am excited.

In the summer of 2009 I taught at McDaniel Orchestra Camp for the first time, and met camp founder Margaret Motter "Peggy" Ward - professional violist, dynamo of central Maryland's cultural life, torchbearer of music education for young people.... She asked me if I had written any string music for young people and I replied, "not yet." I am always interested in new opportunities to compose, especially when they are tied to possible performances.

What Peggy Ward had in mind was a new work for the Carroll County String Project, a new non-profit community music school (which she also founded). She was interested in something for the students to play in the ensemble program, which may range from a chamber group of one-on-a-part to a small chamber orchestra, depending on the normal fluctuations of enrollment.

It was an opportunity to learn something about the world of young string players and how the pedagogical literature is graded for difficulty. I am spoiled, having enjoyed the privilege of writing for professional and conservatory musicians on a regular basis, knowing that I could put practically anything on paper and they would be up for it. Writing for "students in Suzuki Book II and above" would be a new challenge to me as a composer. It would affect the techniques I could ask for, the melodic leaps that would be manageable, and even the specific notes and rhythms I could write.

But I find that unusual parameters can be a great motivator. Infinite creative choices can be paralyzing!

Adding just a little more pressure, Peggy Ward wanted something in the range of 20 minutes. There's the pressure I put on myself, too; I wanted to write something that would be interesting for 20 minutes - interesting to the students and to me - and something that would stretch them and introduce them to some new ideas and new sounds, without writing something they or their folks would think was just weird. After all, I could certainly write something that was interesting to me, but to non-specialists it might sound like it was from another planet. Or, I could write something very playable but vapid. I hope I have avoided both extremes.

The new 20-minute work for string orchestra (minimum seven players: 2,2,1,1,1) is now a reality. A 30-page, 383-measure reality! In the two weeks after spring semester ended I am thankful to say I was able to compose the piece, prepare the parts, have everything printed, and deliver the big box of scores and parts, ready for rehearsal.

The Sinfonietta for Strings is programmed for the outdoor concert on Saturday, August 14 at 3:00 p.m. in the Carroll Community College Amphitheater, and the formal concert on Sunday, August 15, also at 3:00 p.m., at St. Paul's United Methodist Church in New Windsor, MD.

More good news: these young players will be privileged to have violinist I.G. Bagus Wiswakarma (co-founder and Music Director of the Jakarta Philharmonia) coaching them in rehearsals. Also, my friend and colleague Eli Wirth (Music Director of the Frederick Regional Youth Orchestra, Director of Music at Carroll Community College in Westminster, MD, and fresh from a visit to study Venezuela's very successful El Sistema youth orchestra program) will be the guest conductor.

America's Only Hope?

Just a moment ago I received a "special offer" - a yard sign that reads as follows.

Prayer
America's Only Hope
2 Chronicles 7:14

Now, my problem with this sign is not what you might expect.

First, I do believe in prayer - and not just because it lowers blood pressure. If that's all you need, get a dog.

The second line is also good; our ultimate hope should not be in a party or a program or an economic model (though they all have their important places).

No, it's that third part that's bugging me. And it is very unusual for me to have a problem with anything that encourages people to go read the scriptures!

This particular scripture is completely out of place on this sign.

"If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land" (2 Chronicles 7:14, NIV).

When did the original secular republic - the nation that drove the final nail in the coffin of theocracies - become the United States of God's People Who are Called by God's Name?

The promise was not addressed to the United States of America. If we take this promise given to the ancient Hebrews and apply it to our own nation, we make a grave error. We make the mistake of thinking that the U.S. is God's Chosen Nation.

Remember, Jesus died so that there would be neither Jew nor Greek, but, rather, we would all be one in Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:27-29).

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Via pulchritudinis

On November 22, 2009, in the Sistine Chapel, Benedict XVI delivered an address to an audience of 250 singers, musicians, writers, painters, architects, sculptors, actors and film producers. The address, "You Are the Custodians of Beauty," suggested the possibility of "a via pulchritudinis, a path of beauty which is at the same time an artistic and aesthetic journey, a journey of faith, of theological enquiry."

Not surprisingly, the pontiff affirmed the work of artists in bringing beauty into the world and elevating our gaze above its negative elements, combating the decline into resignation and despair. He emphasized the importance of the arts in the realm of faith and vice versa.

As I began to read the address (in translation), I admit that I braced myself for a reduction of art to the attractive and pleasant.

I am thankful to say that I was pleasantly surprised. While Benedict XVI did use the word "beauty" or "beautiful" forty-four times in the short speech, and while his only mention of music was "in the service of the liturgy," it is to his credit that he affirmed even more art's power to challenge and shock, using this quote from painter Georges Braque: "Art is meant to disturb, science reassures."

He went on to say that art "pulls us up short, but in so doing it reminds us of our final destiny, it sets us back on our path," and stated explicitly that he is not promoting easy, escapist art. This acknowledgment of difficult art was balanced by a rejection of "gratuitous provocation" and of "seductive but hypocritical beauty that rekindles desire, the will to power, to possess, and to dominate others."

I wonder how many artists feel, as I do, a constant struggle to find what it can possibly mean for me to make art that could lead hearts toward the infinite. Perhaps there is some help to be found in Benedict XVI's words: "The way of beauty leads us, then, to grasp the Whole in the fragment, the Infinite in the finite, God in the history of humanity."

Could it be in the nature of art itself, the effort to create something meaningful and share something about the nature of being alive--could it be intrinsic to making art? Surely not, or all art would draw us deeper in faith. Is it some mysterious transference of my struggle toward faith that finds its way into my work without any direct intention on my part?

No, I think artists make decisions. Not always--there are surely many mysteries, many happy accidents. But I think it is possible for me to choose to make a destructive work, a work that discourages, that incites rage, and so on. Likewise, I think it is possible for me to make a positive work, not merely "happy" but a work that engages with the nature of life and meaning in some small but beneficial way.

To whatever degree I make these choices, I want to make good ones.

Shane Prine, eximposition.
Michael O'Brien, You Sought Me.
Anonymous, Jesus graffiti on a pier.