composer's notebook
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Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Fill in the blanks
In a reflective tailspin, as I just submitted my ASCAP+ award application. This ritual is an annual taking stock of the year, in the form of a cold listing of performances, commissions, and recordings, for the purposes of begging for a wee bit more coin from my performance rights agency of choice.
There it is, facing you in black and white—everything you inadvertently accomplished while most likely trying to do something completely else. Looking back on a year like that ... in a way it's quite like tax season (Oh I remember that gig ... I made how much?)—but it's even more similar to the annual Newman Newsletter, a periodical painstakingly edited by my mother. The production of NN requires a forced resume of annual achievements deemed worthy of kvelling to the neighbors and loved ones from all Newman children (both of blood and marriage) ... a miserable exercise if ever there was one, usually resulting in stubborn procrastination, followed by the depression which often accompanies detailed self-assessment.
But on its own merits, as an annual exercise, The ASCAP+ application is cleansing in a way. List what you did this year. Who loves ya, Baby? Stare at the sheet and find out. Then move on and start dealing with the (near) future, because same time next year you'll be doing it again. The trick is to convince yourself that if you work hard enough, maybe next year's list will look better to you.
I won't sucker myself into complaining, though. This year's application looks good. Certainly better than ever before. A healthy amount of performances (amplified nicely by the consortium's multiple premieres) and recordings, and one surprise project I never anticipated, but am thrilled I did. There are still the gaps, of course ... the projects I've been eager to tackle for years and for whatever reasons (or not) haven't yet. I invite Sleep tonight only by convincing myself that those will make next year's application. Who knew that this modestly-peripheral funding program could be such an annual motivator? ... ASCAP+: The Great Kick-in-the-Butt.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Pop roundup
I've been doing a lot of copying lately, and that means that iTunes is working overtime. So in the Nobrow spirit, I present some Listening Lately:
Ben Folds — Songs for Silverman
Like the title track from his previous offering, Rockin' the Suburbs (an excellent piece of work), there are the obligatory one or two tracks delivered with tongue firmly inserted in cheek—in SfS it's Jesusland, which works quite well as a humor track, and very well if you dig his politics. Unfortunately, also like RtS, there are some notable clunkers. Folds has this unfortunate tendency to occasionally get overly earnest and sentimental, and more-than-a-modicum too personal. On RtS, it was The Luckiest, a sugary ballad clearly written for his then new wife/partner which quickly got deleted from my Ben Folds playlist. In the same vein of ill-advised and way-too-specifically un-metaphored songwriting, this album's heart-on-sleeve homage to his daughter, Gracie, (I kid you not ... if these depictions of life's rite-of-passages continue in order, I expect the next album to treat us us to an emotional musical journey exploring the death of a parent) is as awful as you'd think, providing us with that stomach-turning "more information about your personal life than I wanted, thank you" moment. Another bad compositional decision is Late, an unsubtle tribute to a songwriter I can only assume is Elliott Smith (worthy of tribute if it is a paean to Smith, yes, but I think perhaps with some more thought Folds might have done better than "The songs you wrote, got me through a lot, just wanna tell you that"). All these tracks are arguments against a songwriter having too much artistic control—you get the impression that had the label had any say, they would have 86'd these suckers at the earliest opportunity.
SfS also provides object lessons in pop production, in two instances: one being the unfortunate bonus "strings" version of Landed (an otherwise attractive, cleverly-written and well-produced tune) ... the other is the completely re-produced cut of the previously-released Give Judy My Notice. What was a simple and very effective vocal/piano arrangement on last year's Speed Graphic EP, was unfortunately re-worked for SfS into a misguided and overly-produced mess of slide guitar and choral overdubs. With the magic of iTunes, one can A/B these versions side by side, and learn how not to produce a perfectly good song.
But these are the exceptions. The new album as a whole is excellent, providing more of the same rock- piano fireworks, catchy tunes, and cheeky lyrics. Sentimental Guy, for one, is a terrific cut, providing some relief from the barn-burning rock tracks by somehow achieving a very groovy retro 70's TV sitcom theme sound in the production. And when on the mark (and less on-the-nose than "I love my wife/daughter") his lyrics are clever and funny—the best penned tracks probably being Landed, and Trusted, which provides what is my favorite Folds lyric from the album:
She's pulled all the blankets over
Curled in a ball
Like she's hiding from me and
that's when I know
She's gonna be pissed when she wakes up
For terrible things I did to her in her dreams
Alison Krauss and Union Station — Lonely Runs Both Ways
Much like New Favorite, LRBW alternates back and forth (for the most part) between Krauss's insanely-beautiful ballads and Dan Tyminski's (he of the Constant Sorrow) and Jerry Douglas's masterful banjo and steel-guitar-pickin' fire-starters. Leaving aside the fact that (let's be honest), we're all buying this album to slobber over Krauss's jeweled throat, Union Station's bluegrass stuff is just fantastic. The band is astonishingly good, and the arrangements are as quality as they get. The production on the CD (like many Rounder Records CDs, I believe, produced by Krauss herself) is extraordinary as well, every track sounds better than the last one. So to get tossed back and forth between Krauss's magical crooning and Union Station's astonishing technique is a wonderful ride. Every track works. But if I had to pick one, the gem of LRBW is the final track, Krauss's heartbreaking cover of A Living Prayer. Just try not hitting "repeat".
Friday, May 13, 2005
Tubes and Fans
Get up for the downstroke, people, the world gets two Chunk performances, two days in a row. Last night in Illinois, and tonight with Stuart Sims at California State University Stanislaus.
Stuart's performance, on a program titled "The Art of Cool" (a debatable theme to say the least considering that my square butt is included) is notable not only because 2 Mackeys are also programmed (and it's been quite a while since we've shared a program. Discussions continue as to when exactly the last time was...likely at Juilliard), but also because this might be Chunk's first performance with an actual Hammond organ, complete with Leslie speakers. The keyboard part includes my feeble instructions on finding an appropriate patch—something as close to a Hammond B3 as possible, that unmistakable wobbly jazz organ sound with its biting attack, and with as much of the whoop-whoop of the Leslie vibrato as possible .. and I've heard ensembles attempt to replicate that with everything from a Clavinova to an Alesis keyboard. But Stuart has gone one step further and actually rented a Hammond (I believe, not a B3, but a slightly later model) and the fan-driven Leslie's. "The Art of Cool" in this case, does not describe the music, but the conductor who cares enough to rent the very best...
Marathon Man, Pt. 2
The games continued Wednesday where at the crack of dawn I begin work with the indefatigable Jim Kull and the ensembles at St. Charles East HS. Jim had arranged a massive (and what I would normally caution against as ill-advised) Newman-Fest, where he programmed FIVE Newman works, including Avenue X ... a circumstance which in no small part made me shudder with feelings of unworthiness and embarrassment.
On Wednesday, work with St. Charles East's freshman and symphonic bands and AP Theory class was Interrupted only by a quick visit to co-commissioner Willowbrook H.S. where Bill Gilmer's ensemble blew through AveX with a joyful noise. They had played the piece (marvelously, according to the CD I received) the week before, so whatever rehearsal I attempted was moot—these guys already had the piece down , And on Thursday after rehearsals with the St. Charles East Wind Ensemble I was shuttled off to co-commissioner Addison Trail H.S. where Mark Corey's band, they of the hot percussion section and screaming-fast tempos played a mid-day assembly, complete with Avenue X, Uncle Sid, and a great Q&A with the students. The vibe at Addison Trail made me jealous—I found myself wishing that lo those many years ago I enjoyed such a safe and friendly environment around the band room, where students are hanging out in the office, working together to help out Mark with that evening's concert, and just generally enjoy each other's company.
Now that the week is over I think it safe to declare Avenue X a success. I like the piece myself (imagine that) and the feedback from the musicians and directors has been incredibly heartening. My favorite compliment thus far was ATHS director Mark Corey's declaration that the 12-measure section at Rehearsal O was to be his new cellphone ringtone. Major thanks are due to all the commissioners for making it all happen, and to Jim, Jenny, Gil, Michelle, Bill, and Mark, for rehearsing, prepping, scheduling, hosting, and shepherding me through the rest of the week.
The end of the residency came Thursday night, which was, to put it simply. Ridiculous With Newman. With the exception of 2 pieces, the entire Newman oevre for winds was performed in Chicagoland. While Addison Trail played Avenue X and Uncle Sid, I managed to conduct my way through the St. Charles East monstrosity: The freshman rendered 1861 beautifully, the Symphonic Band brought their A-game to Moon by Night, and the Wind Ensemble (mincing no words), simply blew the roof off of the place. AveX sounded fantastic, and these guys made me look really good. The players on spring rain..., arguably the most difficult and head-scratch-inducing piece I've written for winds, were just gorging on musicality, and (for dessert) Chunk ... well, Chunk was a party. I have never heard that piece groove as hard as it did last night, and that includes any college, high school, pro group, or anyone. There wasn't a square phrase in the joint. And I had nothing to do. I just stood up there and smiled (and of course shook what my mama gave me) while these young guns transformed themselves into the backup band James Brown wishes he had...
Jim Kull's ensembles also played Steve's Interruption Overture and Jim's Hopak, which led to my favorite CD label presentation ever:
St. Charles East High School Concert Bands, Symphonic Bands and Wind Ensemble
AVENUE X
The Music of Jonathan Newman
(And Bonney and Bryant)
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Marathon Man
The high schools ... my Goodness, the high schools. Since I've been touring around the exploding western suburbs of Chicagoland (all Avenue X, all the time) for a week of clinics, classes, and concerts, a side-benefit has been the all-encompassing insider / bird's-eye view of the state of secondary education in Illinois. With visits to Addison Trail High School, Batavia High School, Naperville Central High School, Neuqua Valley High School, Oswego High School, Plainfield South High School, St. Charles East High School, Waubonsie Valley High School, and Willowbrook High School, I am not wanting for examples.
And I am jealous. I attended a high school (recently re-discovered, see below) with a graduating class of about 300, and a music program that consisted of half-a-concert band blindly struggling through an out-dated Jay Chattaway arrangement, and a choral teacher repeatedly banging on a single piano note shouting, "This is your NOTE ladies!" while he looked at his watch to see if he was retired yet.
So the palatial majesty of some of these high schools gives me more than a little pause. Many are more like community colleges, with their atriums and greenhouses and separate campuses. One of them had a planetarium (Go Waubonsie!). And music programs that reach far beyond the eye can see—some with music faculties you need two hands to count..."we have 6 bands and 9 choruses" is not an uncommon refrain. Not one, but two steel drum bands. And each wind ensemble, of course, is better than the next. Students who are not just holding bassoons, but playing them with gusto and subtlety (no small feat).
Directors are passing me off like a baton in a tag-team relay ... one school to the next, 3 yesterday, 2 today, and 2 concerts tonight. Yes, 2 tonight, where after one Avenue X performance I will rush out to a waiting car which will drive me to the next concert, already in progress, where X has been pushed to late in the program. With 13 commissioners, the pool of resources is vast, but the scheduling, I can only imagine, is nightmarish.
The week so far is an exhausting party...and the students are fabulous, ripping through a piece they seem to enjoy playing (at least they give that impression), and the directors generous and excited. But I've gone from 0 to 60—from never having heard this piece played, to hearing it straight, 7 hours a day, 2 days so far, and with no end yet in sight. Since one can obviously never have enough Avenue X, it's probably not a hardship, and my thanks goes to Chip, Jerrod, Jim, John, Margene, Matt, and Josh—the commissioners who have prepped, scheduled, shuttled, and generously given their over their time so far this trip—and all of the terrific students who played their hearts out at Neuqua, Plainfield South, Batavia, Oswego, and Waubonsie. Onward to St. Charles...!
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Old Home, Pt. 2
It turns out that the oddest part about conducting your high school band 15 years later is not the fact that your classmate (he of the Guns N' Roses t-shirts and stone-washed jeans) is now the assistant principal. Nor is it suddenly realizing while sitting in the school cafeteria munching on your (discomfortingly familiar-tasting) lunchroom hot dog that many of these students were born in the same year in which you graduated. And it's not even that your rehearsal was on the very stage on which you channeled Yul Brynner (brilliantly, my mother says) in the 1990 Wyoming Valley West production of The King and I. Oddly enough, the height of surreal comes when you walk through the halls, passing the library (now of course filled with computer terminals) and noting the students wearing what every high school student often wears: school t-shirts, mascot hats and pins ... only this time they are WVW school t-shirts, mascot hats and pins. Maroon and gold scatters in front of your eyes like a shredded L.L. Bean catalog and you think, "WVW? You know about Valley West? Your team is The Spartans too?"...
Blissfully, these kids are unaware of my befuddlement, and politely ignore the old man having a silent panic attack in the hallway.