Sculpture

I have never really been a big fan of sculpture. My biggest experience with it has been of the tacky sorts of things that you find in an antique junk store. The notable exception of my growing up was seeing some of the rather heroic statues around Temple Square in Salt Lake City. I got to see a variety of oldish greek-ish sculptures at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, but they didn't do anything for me except make me want to cover them up, maybe with a large fig leaf.

An interesting side-effect of my recent trip to Pittsburgh to interview with a couple grad schools was a sudden interest in the art of sculpture. In the city I saw many works in this 'public art' form. I am not interested in making sculptures, (I have no talent or inclination towards the visual arts) but in the concept and impact of this unique art form. It appeals to me on several levels. For one, there is an emphasis on the human form and all it can portray. There is something deep and divine in molding human images. The lack of coloring focuses attention on other details such as pose and expression. Best of all, to be experienced as an art, sculpture can be placed almost anywhere.

So it was I was walking rather aimlessly through downtown Pittsburgh, enjoying my first experience of skyscrapers, when I passed a church that had a sculpture in front of it, right by the sidewalk. It turned out to be Paul Granlund's "Resurrection" - I was captivated.
Unfortunately it was night time, so my picture of it didn't turn out very well. It portrays a man rising from an abstract block structure that seems as though it has opened to release him. I don't know whether this is meant to portray Christ's resurrection or just any man on the day of resurrection, but the image is nonetheless powerful. The inscription at the base of the stature quotes John 5 - "For the hour is coming, when all that are in the tomb will hear his voice and come forth, those who have done good, to the resurrection of life." You really do get the impression that the figure is floating, rising above the now powerless grave that has held him.

Though his head is hanging down, this seems to be only a temporary look down in wonder at the restoration of his body and its freedom from death. Somehow to me the figure seems about to lift his head upwards in supreme triumph over the last enemy, towards the voice that has called him forth. His arms are extended in a manner reminiscent of suffering on the cross, but hinting that they too will soon be raised in an act of praise. It was a neat experience to have suddenly, walking down the street.

Finding this sculpture and reviewing other works of art by this same sculptor (Paul T. Granlund) reminded me of a statue I had seen in a photograph last summer while researching (as part of my regular random research on Wikipedia (RRROW)) the Chernobyl disaster. I have been unable to discover who the sculptor is, but the sculpture itself is in a cemetery in Moscow, where some of the firefighters are buried who died as a result of attempting to contain the failed nuclear reactor at Chernobyl, Ukraine. This is really one of the most powerful images I have ever seen as a memorial.

Here again the figure of a man is contrasted with a shape, this time the not so abstract outline of a nuclear mushroom cloud. His legs appear to be melting and his arms are flung out against the explosion. This image suggests several things to my mind. The obvious interpretation is the struggle of the firefighters, sent in to face the world's worst nuclear accident without proper equipment or information. "We didn't know it was the reactor," said one of the first firefighters to arrive on the scene of the 'fire,' without gear to detect or protect from radiation, "no one had told us." Two men went up onto the roof of the reactor to put out the fire, they were never seen again. Over the next weeks thousands more people were exposed to lethal and life-threatening doses of radiation in an attempt to contain the disaster. To this end the statue portrays a man perhaps futilely throwing out his arms in defiance of a power that is already consuming him. The tragedy is awful.

I come from the school of thought, however, that a work of art cannot help but also be a product of its time, no matter the intent of the artist. This is especially true of works out of Soviet Union, such as the subversive or dual meanings in the compositions of Shostakovitch, Gubaidulina, Part, or Schnittke. I think much of Soviet propaganda art is in fairly poor taste -while in Russia I saw many memorials to WW II that were literally trash, such as the abstract sculpture shown above, made out of old artillery cannons jumbled together. However, I see something else in this sculpture from the end of the soviet regime, something honest and from the heart of nations about to be free - the symbol of a man fighting overwhelming powers of darkness and oppression. The nuclear cloud becomes a symbol of mankind's worst side, which the people of the Soviet Union had seen for decades. This statue conveys a similar sentiment as Winston Churchill's famous 'fight on the beaches' speech: "We shall never surrender." I pray that the people of Russia and other former soviet countries will never give up the freedoms which have come after such suffering.

Finally, the statue could even be a portrayal of a Christ figure, a statement that even all the evils of the modern world were paid for in that moment of infinite suffering in Gethsemane and on Calvary, that no power on earth or hell could destroy/consume the divine sacrifice. In this way, these two statues become paired together for me, Suffering and Resurrection.

I recently reread one of the books that has had a measured impact on my artistic views, "The Fountainhead." While I do not agree with a large part of Ayn Rand's philosophy, I can't help but enjoy the portrayal of man, "not as he is but as he might be" which, ironically enough, resounds with me more from a religious point of view than philosophical. The following quote from The Fountainhead describes the work of fictional sculptor Steven Mallory:

"...your figures are not what men are, but what men could be - and should be...your figures are the heroic in man."

The book in general is about uncompromising architect Howard Roark, who goes so far as to work in a quarry rather than design buildings in someone else's style, or blow up a building that is not being built as he designed it. My wife Qait teased me when I even hinted that my new job at a potato factory was a similar outlet. Anyways, the events surrounding the young sculptor are some of the most meaningful to me in the whole book. Unlike Roark, Mallory has struggled to keep his ideals and stooped to making mass-produced sculptures of ugly-cute little babies. His encounter with Roark is the first time that he finds someone who really understands him, and it is the first and one of the only times when Roark actually shows what we would call empathy. "...this boy was a comrade-in-arms, hurt in battle, and Roark stood over him, feeling a strange new thing, a desire to lift him in his arms and carry him to safety..."

Is it okay for this blog entry to come full circle from the topic of sculpture to me saying that I really hope that in grad school I can find a mentor or friend who can help make me the composer that I 'could be - and should be?' In this way a teacher is a sculptor, following in the footsteps of that great Creator, Himself a teacher who is a sculptor using that most difficult and rewarding of of malleable substances, human souls, to bring out the best, the 'heroic' and divine in man.

Have any of you ever found a sculpture that really spoke to you? I'd love to hear about it.

Discovering and Creating the Music of Today

During the application process for various colleges, I had to write several 'statements of purpose' or intent. The following (with the exception of the first paragraph) is culled from several of those statements and gives a background of what got me into music and hopefully conveys something of my views and goals as a composer.

As a lover of music, I know the unparalleled joy that can come from a good piece of music. For me, a great piece of music is one that opens up new depths of thought and beauty, and allows the listener to either leave the moment they are in, or enjoy it fully. Years ago, sitting at the piano, I discovered that I too could create music, not just consume. By the age of 17 I knew that I had to make music, that it was part of who I am. I have spent my time since cultivating both that destiny and talent. My degree in jazz studies helped me realize further the potential that making music can have to change lives, bring people together, or just let everyone have a good, quality time. My dad used to ask me what I thought about when I didn't have anything to think about. Music. Musical form. How movements in a piece I will write might relate together. How to improve a piece I am working on. Although my degree is not in composing, (BYU-I does not offer one) my passion has been composing and my activities during my undergraduate studies have proved that again and again. I founded the Student Composers Society at BYU-I, pursued compositional lessons (from my own pocket and competing with my jazz and other courses) and have relentlessly improved my composing talents by composing almost constantly. Since I began college I have spent my free time & money researching composing and composers. I've felt an affinity with composers making music today or recently. I long to join to their ranks.

In my first semester of college I heard a work by a living composer being performed on the radio. My first thought was: what are they doing to that violin? Followed by: I like it. I was enthralled and baffled. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard. I began a studious search to find out how the gap was bridged between the music of composers covered in textbooks and music being composed today. I believed that if the music of one, two or three centuries ago could speak so powerfully, the music of today could be even more significant.

Who has been composing in the last 50 years? What are the trends and techniques being used? How are these composers supporting themselves professionally? What are their compositional philosophies? Why isn't this music reaching more people? What is it about this music that moves me so deeply? I sought the answers to these questions and was exposed to dozens of composers. As I listened to their music, there were many gratifying moments that presented more beautiful and wonderful sounds than I had known possible.

The more I searched, the more I realized that if I wanted to hear perfectly pertinent music I would have to create it. I began composing in earnest, taking lessons and talking to other students interested in composing. My research on modern composers doubled as a course in modern musical language and techniques.

On February 28th, 2008, I first saw my name as composer on the program and heard my work performed - a hymn and a movement for string quartet (now revised and in my portfolio as Zerkalo). It is hard to describe the feeling of hearing my own compositions performed. I suppose it is rather like hearing your child perform for the first time at a piano recital. I was nervous, yes, but also elated at each sound. Here was the complete cycle of music being played out: the composer has just finished the work. The performers have rehearsed and are now on stage sharing their talents. For the first time, an audience hears the work. What a thrill to share with them this pure and undiluted musical experience! As I spoke with people afterwards, I realized the concert had had as much impact on them as it had on me. I felt inspired and filled with a desire to create and share more music.

To hear living music impressed on me the importance of the music of today - music that expresses, exalts and exemplifies the tenor of our times. As important as the music of the past is, it is this living music that holds a mirror up to our times and has the most potential to be an instrument of social change.

From hearing a new work on the radio to the first performance of my own works to the present, my course has become increasingly clear - I feel it is my duty as a composer to enrich our culture, ensuring its progress by composing exquisitely expressive music that will become an important part of people’s lives. I want my music to reach people in a variety of ways - whether on their iPods, at thought provoking concerts, during reverent religious works, or in lighter but not less well-crafted music influenced by jazz and popular idioms. In all the music I write I want there to be a depth of thought and form - music that satisfies both the ears and mind. In order to be so versatile and effective as a composer - to 'wax poetic' with the language of music - I want to master a vast palette of musical means from all styles and periods. I will also need practical training as a professional composer to thrive in the changing music industry.

This is why I am pursuing graduate studies in composition.

Beautiful Truths tonight live with guest star Hey! It's All Music!

THE OPENING ACT of of tonight's blog is "Hey! Its All Music!"

I AM A COMPOSER. To many this creates an instant image of either a wig wearing maniac or John Williams. Not so much the actual image of John Williams, just the idea of him as one of two living composers that are household-ish names. I like the term composer but to me it expresses a number of things besides "a maker of stuffy old music" or "movie music guy." A composer is a musical poet/artist, crafting soundscapes instead of words or paint. A composer can be (as I want to be) a songwriter or a psalmist, though not all songwriters or psalmists are composers. A composer can do movies or ballets or jazz symphonies or song cycles or even albums or ring tones. Critics impose any number of appellations to a composer's music, "minimalist" "new wave" "emo" "Quintessentially Modern American" etc. The important thing to me is that I am making music. As I have repeatedly stated, I want to draw on a vast palette of music means/styles/textures to achieve my expressive ends. No matter what kind of music those means are employed to create, "Hey, its all music!"

SO IT IS that I hope to be found writing songs that could be found on the radio, concertos that receive standing ovations in the concert halls, reverent works that invite the Holy Spirit to a religious service, or even rousing works that glorify the freedoms and principles on which America is founded. I want to make music for the people, music that is meant to be listened to by people who need music for specific and important functions in their lives. In each 'facet' of my work I want to apply the same artistic integrity, dedication to quality and wellspring of inspiration. For me it feels entirely natural to combine all these kinds of works into one portfolio and call the man who made them 'Composer.' Whether a love song or hymn, a symphony or a concept album, a jazz suite or an oratorio, there will always be behind it: Michael Wahlquist, Composer. No matter what the 'genre' of work I am creating, the same standards apply, especially moral standards. As a composer I have a purpose, and that brings us to tonight's main act.

LAST WEEKEND I was in Pittsburgh (a long way from Rexburg, Idaho where I live, or St. Petersburg, Russia, where I served my mission, but it does have a 'burg' suffix, so it must be destiny for me to live there. The random 'h' even echoes the random 'h' in my last name) with interviews at the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie Mellon University. I particularly had a great time talking with composers Matthew Rosenblum and Eric Moe from the former and Nancy Galbraith and Leonardo Balada from the later. It was a wonderful experience and as different as the two schools are, I would love the opportunity to study at either. I'm also waiting to hear back from a few schools closer to home, in Utah.

A CURIOUS THING happened while speaking with Leonardo Balada. It has had me thinking ever since. He asked me about my time in Russia, whether it had been difficult, since they were mostly atheists. The question following was, "I'm an atheist, do you think I'm a bad person?" I have to admit, I was not expecting such a question, or really any questions about my faith, since I had only a 20 minute interview with these two composers at Carnegie Mellon, and since the discussion was supposed to focus on my portfolio of works. In any case, hopefully they got what they wanted from the interview, which did otherwise focus on my portfolio, influences, and education. Perhaps even my answer to his offhand question let them know that I am a composer of convictions. I told him that of course I respect all people no matter what they believe, and when it comes to music, I really appreciate it when a composer uses their music to express their philosophies or beliefs - how they feel about life. I then used the example of work of his, an "Agnostic Requiem" (by which title I might have guessed he would bring up my faith!) I'm really not worried that they will let my faith bias their decision. Nancy Galbraith, the other composer present, has plenty of religious music on record.

I REALLY BELIEVE that there is a lot of Truth, Beauty, and Wisdom that comes from people of all or no faith. I enjoy a good Requiem or even a Mass or Passion, even though I can't agree with every part of they message they contain. I enjoy a good love song, because if there is one way that almost everyone in the world glimpses the Divine it is by being in love and creating families. I love a well constructed jazz solo or violin concerto, because there is something inherently glorious in the act of musical expression and creation.

NOT EVERY composer/music-maker sets out with such a determination to express their beliefs and views of life through their music. I intend to be one of those composers who does. There is a such a vacuum of works that portray, endorse, promote and glorify the things that I believe in and for which I stand. One of the central tenets of my faith is that I 'seek after' things that are 'virtuous, lovely, of good report or praiseworthy'. I feel a sense of obligation to make sure that my music stands up for Truth and Beauty, that it is virtuous, lovely, and indisputably praiseworthy. There is so much music out there taking up people's attention and lives with things that either don't matter that much or even are harmful. I regard it as my duty as a composer, as a music maker and therefore entertainer, to make sure I stand in opposition to such things, as a one holding up a light and standard.

SO IN my love songs you will see a portrayal of the ideal of love and family life that I believe in. In my reverent music for church you will find conveyed as clearly and beautifully as possible the eternal truths on which I found my life. In my more classical works intended for the concert hall you will hear principles of Order and Beauty, you will find symbolism of concepts of faith and truth. To me it is all music, and it all expresses something about how I feel about life. I intend to be an active influence for good in the life of any person who hears my music. There is so much other music demanding our attention, I don't want to submit anything to the world that doesn't live up to these ideals.

I AM A COMPOSER. I want to make a variety of music, but I want it all to matter to the discerning listener. I know it can matter to someone because my music will embody, exemplify and exalt the things that matter to me. Those are the things of love, of family and eternity and gospel truths that I know will bless anyone who embraces them. So even if a person only ever hears a nocturne from me, or a love song, they will have heard something that is striving for true beauty and beautiful truths.

Starving Composer For Sale

Last night I listened to the State of the Union Address from President Obama. This being my composing blog, I won't remark on how I feel about the President or his policies. Let me say just two things that relate to my life as a composer.

I pray for Obama, literally - he is the one who is at the head of the nation, whether or not my vote was for him. I pray that his influence will be for good and help keep America the country it should be. In Rexburg, Idaho there may not be a lot I can do to support our nation, but I believe praying for our leaders is one valid way. It certainly won't hurt to ask that they have the courage, moral integrity, and even flashes of divine inspiration to do the right things for our nation. Just like I believe in the National Endowment for the Arts slogan "a great nation deserves great art," I believe that our great nation deserves great leaders, and those leaders deserve our prayers and support to help them be great.

The second thing I want to confess is that I actually broke down and wept, sobbing in my hands, when the President spoke of education reform. It isn't that the programs proposed will immediately effect me - they deal with leniency on loans and increase of Pell grants, etc. What particularly got to me was when he said why they are doing these changes, "Because in the United States of America, no one should go broke because they chose to go to college." That touched me deep down at the core of what is going on in my life right now.

I got into college with the desire to make music. Over the course of my first year, that desire transformed solidly into composing. However, I found that BYU-Idaho didn't offer a degree in composing. After some thought and talks with my professors, I settled on Jazz Studies as 'the next best thing' and as a stepping stone to a later, graduate degree in composing. I also believed (and still do) that performance experience, I mean actually making music, is essential for a composer to understand how to write effectively. So, besides a two year break serving a mission for the LDS Church in St. Petersburg, Russia, I completed my degree in just four years. I even took classes in the summer sessions to keep this goal. Part of my rush to complete was the simple desire to move on: since BYU-Idaho didn't offer a degree in composition, I wanted to get my Jazz Studies degree and move on to a more focused education in composition. The other reason that I wanted to finish my degree in the traditional four years (unusual for a music student at BYU-I or many universities) is that I had committed to getting it in that time. The semester after I got back from my mission, I was offered a part time job teaching seminary. It was a great blessing. The generous compensation helped me get through school with relatively little dept. The job also offered the prospect of a career, if I were one of the lucky few who was chosen at the end of student teaching to get accepted full time. All they wanted in terms of educational experience was a degree, it didn't matter in what. I chose to stick to the degree I had already chosen, Jazz Studies, knowing that I could complete its requirements soonest. So it was that I committed to graduating in April 2009 so that I would be available for hire within about a two year period from the time my student teaching employment began. I stuck with it, even though it became increasingly apparent that not only was jazz not what I wanted as a career but even as it became more of a burden to pursue increased composing opportunities amidst increased demands from the jazz department. Pressure in the seminary program increased also as the time of hiring approached. I was visited in the classroom and interviewed by representatives from the regional offices and even Salt Lake.

Amidst all of this the economy collapsed. The LDS Church, ever quick to make fast the ship in the storm, as it were, initiated a hiring freeze that meant only a handful of student teachers (among hundreds church-wide) would be offered full-time jobs. That, among other factors, soon put an end to my hopes of having a stable career right out of college that would allow me to pursue composing on the side. Although it was difficult to be told 'no' I still interpreted this blow as a loving Father's way of saying, "I have something else in store for you!" It was still with a heavy heart I turned over my student teaching positions for the final trimester to teachers who still had a shot at being hired. I dedicated myself to finishing my studies as planned and moving on to plan B: immediately pursuing an education in composition. So in April of 2009 I 'graduated' from BYU-Idaho. However, it wasn't until the completion of my senior recital in July that I actually received my diploma. With a jazz band tour to California looming and suddenly out of the job, my wife and I took over a small managing position for a few girls' housing units on the corner of campus. While this provided no income, we had a place to stay. During the summer months I made the biggest mistake of my life, I think, and didn't actively look for a job until after my senior recital. The months and money slipped away as I practiced, composed, and began to get ready for grad school.

Finally I took up a job at a call center, part time. It is the kind of work that would have been just fine as a busy college student needing a small amount of income, but with a diploma in my hand, and wife and child to support, and high hopes, it was a bitter-sweet experience to have the job. I have been unable to find more work since, with the exception of a few grueling weeks in the fall driving trucks for the potato harvest. Several eateries in Rexburg have gone under, stable employers like the grocery store haven't hired in months. My wife Qait and I have had to move in with my parents. I can't even say how grateful I am for my parents doing this, or how difficult it is to be a married college graduate living at home again. Not only is it demoralizing and embarrassing, it seems to have taken the wind out of my sails. The only thing I managed to accomplish all fall semester (besides potatoes) was to compose a piece for harp, arrange my prelude and fugue, rework my string quartet, and chose and apply to universities. That was a huge process, don't get me wrong. But I wish I could have done it alongside a full time job, and I wish I could have done still more. Technically, I should have applied a year ago so that I could already be in grad school, but a year ago I was just trying to graduate and get hired to teach seminary. In a lot of ways this has felt like a low point of my life. When my car broke down, I had to borrow my grandma's car, since she couldn't drive right after her stroke, and I could in no way afford to replace my car. My wife doesn't have a place to call her own, it has been difficult to see her go through this. I rely on the generosity of my parents for nearly all that we have, from phones to car insurance to food. I am grateful and I feel awful.

It was a ray of light last week when I got to go to Pittsburgh. Carnegie Mellon University called me out for an interview, saying my portfolio had received positive faculty feedback. University of Pittsburgh was kind enough to also accommodate meeting with me on the same trip, and so I had a fantastic weekend dreaming of what it could be like to continue my studies and launch my career in such world-class institutions and such a well-connected location. However, the trip burned through some of the last savings I had from the potato job.

Maybe it is my fault for not getting a degree in engineering or financing or high school teaching or something else that is useful 'right out of the box.' I know that besides being a benefit to and advancement of our culture, my degree in Jazz Studies and pursuit of a degree in Composition offers little that is of immediate value to society or the economy. But I chose this path, and swore myself to it, at a time when I thought our culture, our economy and nation could support and use some of the 'higher things'. This economic crisis has already ended one potential career for me. Even though my degree can't even get me a burger-flipping job, I am determined to make it work. I have to admit my heart would be broken if I didn't get into any of the schools I applied to (three of seven have already said no, thank you, good luck), but I will continue to compose, to pursue this dream that I can make music needed by our society, my religion, and our culture. I suppose plan C would involve getting more specialized training in something useful like paper-filing or even a teaching certificate for high-school level. Plan D would involve joining the armed forces, who respect the fact that I got a degree, and would start me at a higher rate of pay for it.

So it was that I broke down (and quickly looked around to see that none of my sisters was looking over my shoulder) when Obama, the President of the United States, reaffirmed what I have been feeling for months: That no one should go broke because they chose to go to college, or in other words: education should matter. It is no use for me to wish that my professors would have talked me out of my degree, or complaining that they didn't prepare me for a career. This isn't their fault. I am the one who rushed to graduate like a good boy, knowing that Jazz Studies was a performance degree and that I am not a jazz performer at heart. So I hope to find 'salvation' in more education, and not only that, but the relative stability that comes from being a student, the professional opportunities that come from it, and hopefully someday, a stable career doing exactly what I've always wanted to do: teach and make music. In both of those pursuits I can hopefully give back to a society I am praying will help me get through this without making me feel like I can never pay back the debt, financial and otherwise.

It probably isn't chance that I just answered the phone to hear my dad tell me, "you are a good boy, a great boy." I am glad he still thinks so. I also hope that I can hear him someday call me a great man.

Sofia Gubaidulina

She's Russian, her name is pronounced "Goo-by-dull-EEN-a," and she is one of my all time favorite composers. I first heard her music in Russia, when I purchased a CD which contained one of her string quartets. (The same excellent CD also exposed me to two of my other favorite composers, Georgy Kurtag of Hungary and Witold Lutoslawski of Poland) Gubaidulina's music is different than any of my favorite composers, in that I have to brace myself whenever I listen to her music, as you might for medicine. And in this case, that's good thing. Read on!

Grad School Portfolio!

Its that time of life again, applying for college. Except this time they don't all send you cute little info packets. Its been quite the hunt to narrow down the list and choose an acceptable amount to apply to. I'm most excited about my portfolio...There are three works that I would like to describe here.

The first work is my movement for string quartet, newly revised. I will probably rename it "Looking Glass" or the Russian equivalent, "Zerkalo" - what do you think? It is a purely minimalist work. It takes note groupings of 2, 3, 5, & 7 in constant juxtaposition. During the first performance last year the players had to count under their breath like the devil was out to get them. The first section has just the cello, viola, and second violin with 2, 3, and 5 respectively. They trade entrances and build into the second section, where the first violin enters with 7. This section continues for 210 beats, the lowest common denominator of the four sections. (I remember I was in my Politics class when I figured that out!) A sustained chord marks the break into the third section, a more sustained passage where all four instruments trade off with each note grouping in turn -7 twice, 2 seven times, 3 five times, 5 three times. A darker center passage leads up to another sustained chord which is immediately repeated. This is the exact center of the work: the repeated chord serves as a pivot point. What follows is a retrograde inversion of the first half, or in non-music lingo, the second half of the piece is an upside-down-backwards version of the first half. The darker middle section now sounds more poignant, followed by the sustained trade off section, the 210 beat section, and finally just the viola and two violins finish out the piece, ending on the same two opening notes, an octave up. Hence the name 'looking glass' or 'zerkalo' - it is a looking glass in the sense of Lewis Carol, a reflection, but not one that was expected, one that takes you on a different journey than just a brush of the hair or straightening of clothes. Perhaps suggesting to the mind that when we look in the mirror we are not always seeing all there is to see.

The second piece is "Lovescape" for harp, dedicated to my beautiful harpist-wife, Kathryn. My friend Thomas described it as the 'loveliest' piece I've ever written. I humbly submit that he said that not because it is overly lovely but because it is lovely in comparison to some of my more avant guard works. (see the attempt at describing my atonal prelude and fugue below!) Lovescape is a sort of organic theme and variations. The initial theme is really more a short idea or motif, played in bell-like harmonics in the opening of the piece. (5/8 time!) It is immediately treated to a little variation - simply reversing the order of the notes in each measure. Thereafter in the piece, except in the last chord, the main notes of the theme always remain the same, only the surrounding and underlying harmonies change. After the initial statement of the theme follows an extended version that uses the notes of the theme as the first beat of each measure. This lilting tune lasts for seven measures before an upper voice introduces a simple counter-line. Then it loses a measure each repetition before only first measure sounds and leads into a new section, with the theme transformed into a rising, tension building section in 6/8 and 5/8. This releases into a 9/8 section that cools down to the next variation, a more elaborate extension of the melody. This features a constantly evolving motif and harmonic echoes. Another section in 5/8 follows with another variation of the theme, ending in an ascending passage and glissando. The buildup to the climax begins with a series of chords using the theme as the bass line. An accelerating, syncopated variation of the theme wanders upwards until finally, the melody is repeated over swooping glissandi. A final series of variations echo the beginning, but offset. The final chord is sounded as a simultaneously ascending and descending arpeggio, containing all the notes of the theme sounding a tri-tone up. I guess the idea with this piece is to express something of the way I feel about love - constantly evolving and growing, but always with that same familiar foundation.

The final piece for my portfolio (for most schools - BYU, for example, wants 4. They'll get a hymn!) is a prelude and fugue for chamber ensemble. This piece has it origin a few summers back as an experiment with a 12 tone row. (shock! horror! disappointment!) I wanted to do something personal using a 12 tone row, this prelude and fugue were the result, somewhat meant to be for the piano but not specifically. I arranged them for my portfolio so that I have a work for larger ensemble, so now we have a string quintet, harp, piano, marimba, and a sort of wind quintet with oboe, clarinet, trumpet, horn and bassoon. The prelude contains 3 elements: A, B, and C. A is an ascending fourth, given to the strings. It begins long and grows shorter throughout the piece, following the tone row. B, a descending forth, is given to the strings. It begins short and grows long, following the tone row backwards, thus we end where we began. (order in chaos!) C is a sort of in between punctuation chord, sounded by the harp, marimba and piano. Its harmonies are the notes (the fifth) that bracket the fourth of the A and B that precede and follow it. The harmonies for A & B are derived from the notes contained within the motif's fourth, excluding the ones that are in the C chords after and before. Whether or not that makes sense, the point is that it creates an artificial sort of harmonic motion to the chords - each chord contains different notes from the one before it and after it, so that there is a feeling of progression. Although chord quality changes every time, one half of each in-between chord leads from previous chord and the the other half leads to the next chord. So it is an atonal work that I'm pretty proud of, at least for not sounding like its my cute son imitating Stockhausen on the piano. (no offense meant to a great experimenter, I mean - who else does string quartets in helicopters & 24 hour works?) The orchestration also makes the form clear, and I think that you don't have to understand any of the above to appreciate it on some level at least.

The fugue takes the same idea of ascend and descending fourths built off of each of the 12 notes of the row. I think the uber-tonal sound of the fourths helps obscure the non-tonal-ness of the piece, at least at the beginning and end, when basically only an F, Bb, and C are sounding. The mathematics of the fugue are so complex I had to graph them out and color code them. Basically there are three voices.

Upper voice - short ascending motif grows longer with each repetition, followed by long descending motif growing shorter. The first takes the tone row frontwards and second takes it backwards.

Middle voice - back to back long motifs - ascending then descending, both taking the tone row backwards and growing short to the end of the piece.

Lower voice - opposite of the top - short descending motive followed by a long ascending motif, again the first takes the tone row frontwards and second takes it backwards, the short gets longer and the longer shorter.

There is also a calculated and decreasing amount of space, meaning that there are an increasing amount of 'collisions' or harmonies as I like to call them (silly rabbit, atonality is for kids!) as the piece goes on. Also there is a different amount of space between the two motifs of each voice - one beat on the upper voice, three in the middle and two on the bottom. This helps create the alternate entrance sort of flavor that defines a fugue, it also means that the piece ends perfectly logically with a simultaneous sounding of all three voices on a short motif. Basically this prelude & fugue is an exercise is using as simple of means to do as complex a thing as possible. Again, the fugue is helped out by having it orchestrated, the form becomes a little clearer and some of those yummy harmonies created sound even...crunchier. (for kids!) Did I mention this all happens in about two minutes (prelude and fugue combined!)

Thanks to any of you who took the time to read any of this. Recordings of each piece will be made next week (many schools have December 1st deadlines so here we go!) and I will try to post them as soon as I can. Then you can hear what in the world I was talking about with a piece that has a fuzzy mirror for its second half, a piece that has 'organic' theme and variations, and whatever in the world is going on in my prelude and fugue.

A Chance From California to Create a Soundworld

I recently had the opportunity to go to California with Sound Alliance, the BYU-I jazz band. Some things I learned if I ever go on a tour again: 1. I will take Qait with me. 2. I will never play on a keyboard, no matter how nice 3. Go back to Southern California!

While in San Diego we had our best event of the tour, a massive singles dance which was the best attended I've ever seen an LDS dance outside of BYU-I. While there I stayed two nights with some nice single guys. One of them, Eric Bowman, is a computer programmer. He invited me to create the music and sounds for a computer game he and a friend are making for a competition this fall. I would have been hesitant to commit but when he told me the concept, I was sold.

He wants the music/sounds of the game to create a fluid/organic/interactive part of the gaming experience. This allows me to create a composition that will be infinitely full of variety, depending on how each game play progresses. We are still working out details, but the idea is to have a bunch of different pieces of a musical puzzle that can fit together in almost any way. There are obvious classical precedents (Terry Riley's "In C" comes to mind) but I am excited to create this sort of texture as part of a soundworld.

I first heard the word 'soundworld' used talking about the music of Alfred Schnittke. His eclectic music really is unlike any I've ever heard, his late music especially is some of my favorite. As far as I understand the word, and the way it has entered my vocabulary, the idea of a 'soundworld' is describing the overall effect that the music has, in and of itself and in relation to other pieces. Each piece carries with it certain connotations, implications, allusions, and I'll even use a dirty word: moods. While the idea of moods goes way back in music history, the concept of a soundworld as including all of the musical and extra-musical impact of the music is, I believe, a concept almost entirely new for the twentieth century. Think about it. If you heard a piece of music from the 1800s or earlier, it evokes feelings of that century. Sure it may be 'major' or 'minor' or a symphony or a concerto or a chamber work or a choral number. The masterpieces of those eras still remain 'timeless' in their appeal, but their soundworld dates them to a specific time and often place. Starting with the dynamic composers of the early twentieth century, composers began to search for their own unique sound. The music of Stravinsky, Debussy, Hindemith, and the like is recognizable and distinguishable not so much because it inhabits the soundworld of a time period, but because it belongs uniquely to the soundworld of each of those composers.

The trend since the last half of the twentieth century has often been to create a unique soundworld with every single piece. I'll bet (let me know) that if you thought about it, you could name a song or piece of music that for you creates a 'soundworld' with a unique combination of feelings, associations, or moods. A movie can have a soundworld. If you think of the soundworld of Star Wars, you will get a not only snippets of music, but also of blasters and androids and spaceships and heavy breathing. A piece of music can have a soundworld. Think of your favorite album by a popular artist. No matter how much the artist intended there to be variety, odds are there is a sense of cohesion to the songs, even if it is only provided by the voice. More likely, the songs will all create a similar sort of impression or 'soundworld' and if asked to describe elements of that 'soundworld', you could. So, who can use the word 'soundworld' in a sentence?