at school in your underwear
Hey, I've been getting some great comments back and I'm going to endeavor to respond to them - if not in the original postings, then in future blogs! Thanks for the audience participation!
I thought I'd take a moment to give you the more "personal side" of the composition experience. Namely, the neurosis. Here's a crackerjack example. The night before I finished the piece (last Saturday night), I had a dream...
It's the evening of the premiere. I'm backstage with a select group of musicians I have a tremendous amount of respect for - I remember Jerod Tate, Milt Allen, and Randall Coleman among them. We are all crowded around the score for this piece, and we are discussing the more esoteric points of my work. They haven't heard the piece yet, but they are all very complimentary of what is on paper. It is very gratifying, and I feel like a gazillion bucks.
Now it was time for the performance - time to finally HEAR this piece I've obsessed over for 6 months, and have been planning for over 5 years.
Right before I'm about to go on, Randall tells me that, as planned, they don't have shoes for me. That's the plan, right? I perform without shoes normally, right? Ummm... yeah... riiiight...
Then Steve Vai pops in - my guitar idol. He walks up and tells me he just finished his opening act for the crowd and is looking forward to hearing my piece. I have to follow Steve Vai?!
The door to the "stage" opens to the outdoors. It is very very dark, and raining. HARD. I can't see the audience, but they are all definitely out there. I walk out - barefoot - through the mud - to the stage. It is a screened-in porch. There are no lights. There is no guitar. There is no electricity. It turns out I am supposed to conduct. There is no score. I have to conduct the piece from memory.
Oh, and none of the musicians show up. The only guy there is Justin Sonnekalb, an Assistant Producer from work (nice guy, super-smart, but a full wind ensemble he is NOT!). I cue him in. He starts kinda humming the first trumpet's part. And he's dancing. I'm so disconcerted by all this, I lose track of my beat patterns. He turns his back on me, and keeps humming. And dancing. In the dark.
After a few minutes, he stops humming. Just stops. He turns to me, and says,
"You wanna talk about how this is going?"
That's when I woke up.
I thought I'd take a moment to give you the more "personal side" of the composition experience. Namely, the neurosis. Here's a crackerjack example. The night before I finished the piece (last Saturday night), I had a dream...
It's the evening of the premiere. I'm backstage with a select group of musicians I have a tremendous amount of respect for - I remember Jerod Tate, Milt Allen, and Randall Coleman among them. We are all crowded around the score for this piece, and we are discussing the more esoteric points of my work. They haven't heard the piece yet, but they are all very complimentary of what is on paper. It is very gratifying, and I feel like a gazillion bucks.
Now it was time for the performance - time to finally HEAR this piece I've obsessed over for 6 months, and have been planning for over 5 years.
Right before I'm about to go on, Randall tells me that, as planned, they don't have shoes for me. That's the plan, right? I perform without shoes normally, right? Ummm... yeah... riiiight...
Then Steve Vai pops in - my guitar idol. He walks up and tells me he just finished his opening act for the crowd and is looking forward to hearing my piece. I have to follow Steve Vai?!
The door to the "stage" opens to the outdoors. It is very very dark, and raining. HARD. I can't see the audience, but they are all definitely out there. I walk out - barefoot - through the mud - to the stage. It is a screened-in porch. There are no lights. There is no guitar. There is no electricity. It turns out I am supposed to conduct. There is no score. I have to conduct the piece from memory.
Oh, and none of the musicians show up. The only guy there is Justin Sonnekalb, an Assistant Producer from work (nice guy, super-smart, but a full wind ensemble he is NOT!). I cue him in. He starts kinda humming the first trumpet's part. And he's dancing. I'm so disconcerted by all this, I lose track of my beat patterns. He turns his back on me, and keeps humming. And dancing. In the dark.
After a few minutes, he stops humming. Just stops. He turns to me, and says,
"You wanna talk about how this is going?"
That's when I woke up.
Labels: Diabolus Ex Machina
posted by jim at 8:57 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home