Musicians and Sustainability

One of our symposium assistants studies fish in addition to composition. Last night, I had a very good conversation with her about whether or not music was sustainable. Sometimes, it may seem like music has an uncertain future. On other occasions, music serves as a nexus to other things. I thought about this for a while, and well, the nature of music requires that we think about sustainability frequently.

Musicians are frequently confronted with situations that make them consider sustainability. The ACE Chorus, conducted by Craig Hella Johnson, is one such situation. For this year's symposium, many composers were asked to write a choral piece. Let's think about this situation from a perspective of sustainability.

Before the concert, on July 2, Craig has to rehearse roughly 18 pieces (some of which will not be on the concert). When writing for this rehearsal and performance situation, one must keep in mind that the ensemble will have issues with learning harder pieces. Therefore, it is immensely important to write a piece that the choir can sightread and learn very easily. The more successful pieces had this in mind, whereas the  pieces composed without sustainability in mind would take longer than the time available for the Symposium.

In life, the notion of sustainability hinges upon individuals contributing to the larger whole. Ideally, we should all make sacrifices in order to contribute to the overall good. These sacrifices don't hurt us in the long-term. For example, the minuteness of the sacrifice is as small as using less water or turning off a light. In music, we might give a little bit more. In ensembles, we cannot exist without individual dedicated practice time. 

Sustainability is a rather new idea, especially as we are forced to give up some things in order to save scarce resources in our country and on this planet. Musicians, however, have practiced their own sustainable paradigm for, well, as long as we have had printed music on the page (don't you think we should get a patent for this?) 

Our Symposium Director made the comment that law school admissions are down significantly in recent years. Musicians, however, continually adapt to meet the times. Our music is often a nexus for other things. Many composers, for example, develop knacks for computer programming from their experience in music. Some musicians develop a knack for management and can do many things in terms of arts management.

Music is, in fact, more stable and sustainable that people give it credit for. 

The Issue of Self-Analysis

There is one thing that I ultimately dislike about being a composer. I don't like to self-analyze. Actually, as an introvert, I really take issue when someone asks me to talk about my music. I often wonder how other composers feel about talking about their composition process. Another thing that I find interesting, some composers safeguard their sketches and pre-composition like they are hoarding all the gold in Fort Knox. 

Here are some things that I think deter composers from self-analysis:

• Many graduate schools require their composers to write an intensive analysis of their dissertation piece (I had a teacher who called this the "manifesto"). After you've spent a good chunk of your life working on a composition, you're probably not going to want to write about it. "I want to write a 120 page book on my piece," said no composer ever...
• A lot of composers are introverted. Putting us in front of a crowd is probably not going to net the best results. I'm sure, however, that there are plenty of composers who like to talk about their music, granted that I am not one of them.
• A lot of composers are brilliant analysts. That being said, we probably spot check sections of a piece that we find cool in order to understand how it works. Do some of us hate self-analysis because we already know what makes our music tick?

There are benefits of self-analysis. There is the danger, that if you never talk about your work, someone might arrive at a different interpretation than what you intended. I listed some of the benefits of self-analysis. They are provided below:

• Self-analysis can inform a performance of our composition. Sometimes, there might be a minute difference between our perfect performance in our head and what the performer is doing. This can help the presentation of something that we have spent hours, days, or even months on. However, we should tread carefully. Part of the joys of being a composer is another human being giving life to something we've made.
• Someday, you WILL have to talk about your music. Just going over your piece with the theorist hat can help give us a different perspective from when we are wearing our composition hat.
• Your insight might give meaning to someone's experience of a composition. I used to participate in this classical music group. I played one of my compositions. Someone had some questions that were bordering on hostile. I took my chillaxative, put on my big boy pants, and answered the questions as best as I could. Needless to say, this person came to every one of my performances for the rest of the year.

My solution to this paradigm? Only do as much self-analysis as you want. Be prepared to talk meaningfully about your composition if you want more performances of your piece (the last time I checked, I wasn't having a problem with too many performances of my compositions). If someone asks you a hard question about your music (e.g. "Why would anyone ever play this?"), you have the right to politely decline. But remember that people often ask questions because it's human nature to do so. Realize that people are asking questions because they are interested. When two people share common ground, questions are a way of bridging the stream that parts that ground. 

But most importantly, enjoy. That's the part that is easy to forget, when considering all of the above. 

The First One Here

So, in typical George fashion, I was the first one to check in at the Oregon Bach Festival. For the duration of the festival, we will be staying at the Global Scholars Hall. This building is very cool. I've only been here a few hours, and can tell that the University of Oregon is thinking about higher education very intently.

I've always thought that the University of Utah had a very cool library in the form of the Marriott. I like the independent study rooms where one can have a meeting. I also like the classrooms that are in this dormitory-style building. There are even MUSIC classrooms here.

I like this idea of a residential learning community. Even though there are classrooms around campus, it is great for students to have the opportunity to meet with their faculty members in the  place where they also reside. Another cool thing, well, there are also individual computer workstations in this building, too. The University of Oregon has truly thought very hard about how to improve undergraduate education.

I really like this program thus far. The Symposium Director sent someone to the airport to pick me up. I thought that was great. Apparently, the director of the symposium is on the faculty senate. He picked out someone who was on the student to help run the festival. When we were riding back from the airport, we had a good conversation about life, education, a good ale, and just about everything you could think of. I feel really welcome at this symposium.

Now onto things of music. Tomorrow, I have to make 42 copies of my composition. It's probably going to cost a little bit of money, but that's okay. Let me talk about my piece a little bit. It's pretty straightforward in structure. It's in more of a modal style. It's not a religious setting, but it kind of reminds me of Bruckner's "Os Justi." My piece, like Bruckner's, doesn't modulate. I feel like it achieves diversity in minute variations and consistency. It sounds nothing like my instrumental music. My instrumental music is dissonant, chromatic, and "stuck in the twelve-tone period." Personally, I don't think that, but apparently, my more traditional choral music gets me more mileage.

People are going to start pouring in tomorrow. I'll update then and let you know how my time is going.

Living Music

I'm sitting at SLC International and thinking about the phrase "Living Music," the theme of the 2013 Oregon Bach Festival Composers Symposium. What is "living music?" Living music, in my opinion, is music that happens in the here and now. At this festival, composers will premiere old and new pieces. I composed a new piece for the OBF.

All music is living. When you hear Beethoven's Op. 131 and it moves you, that is living music. Living music ultimately is something that moves and changes us as individuals and people.

New music, right now, is in a state of flux. Composers and musicians, right now, are struggling more than ever in order to make a living. Orchestras are folding across the country and opportunities to make music are scant and few.

This is a strange conundrum. I'm not sure why we we've arrived at this point, but I wonder if there is a solution for it. I think that solution comes with making "living music." Musicians form some of the best communities that I've ever been a part of. Communities bring about vibrant and wonderful change.

I like to think that musicians are the ultimate problem solvers. In fact, I think that we succeed at solving most of the problems that are placed in front of us.

I'm looking forward to meeting some people at this festival who once shared a sense of community with me. Some of the people I know at this festival went to Utah as colleagues with me. One of them is from my hometown.

I'll check back in later when I land in Eugene. Have a great Wednesday.

Some Preliminaries

So, for the next two weeks, I will be in Eugene Oregon, participating in the 2013 Oregon Bach Festival Composers' Symposium. My composition, "Velvet Shoes," will be premiered by the festival chorus under the direction of Craig Hella Johnson. I will also be participating in master classes and professional development sessions. Follow along to keep updated!.