I am working on a new eBook with working title 104 Great Symphonies You Have Never Heard Before. It is inevitable that some great works will be overlooked because there surely are great Symphonies which I have yet to hear.
But to minimize that inevitability, I have turned to Jim Moskowitz for help. Jim runs the Unknown Composers Page; he really knows the unknowns. He's given me enough suggestions for me to be hunting and listening for years. But I would like to put out the book by March 2013, so I'll just for now focus on a few of his suggestions: Kaljo Raid, Werner Josten, Ellen Taafe Zwilich, a couple others.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Premieres: you've got to cut a lot of slack
The recent experience with "Kramer" has caused me to decide that I should move away from promoting living composers other than myself. Theoretically, living composers should support each other. Btu in practice, there are some very annoying reactions that just don't make it worthwhile.
One of those reactions: "The performers just butchered my music." Given that so many other performers are beating down your door begging to play your music—wait, what's that? You mean there aren't any performers beating down your door begging to play your music? These performers could have made easier money these last few nights giving lessons, but instead they chose to rehearse your music and play it in public. Not that you made any effort to make your piece playable, carefully deciding on page turns, enharmonic spellings, cues, rehearsal letters and other niceties of that sort.
Look at the first recording of Górecki's Second Symphony, the one conducted by Tamas Pal on some label you never heard of before. It just simply doesn't have the same polish and impact as the newer recording conducted by Antoni Wit on Naxos. And newsflash: Dawn Upshaw with David Zinman was not the first to record Górecki's now popular Third Symphony (though admittedly the Third presents the performers with fewer challenges than the Second).
Another thing that gets me: composers worried about someone stealing their music. Relax. In fact, chillax. You can safely leave the score to your avant-garde opus magnum on the table in some public place and no one will steal it. They might even find some way to return it to you. To get someone to steal an avant-garde composition, you'd probably have to pay the thief to do it.
Compared to complaints about how awful the performers were, just plain silent ingratitude would be very good. I'm not saying that no concert of mine will never again have living composer other than myself on the programme. It's just that I will be way more selective, considering not only the quality of their work, but also their personalities.
One of those reactions: "The performers just butchered my music." Given that so many other performers are beating down your door begging to play your music—wait, what's that? You mean there aren't any performers beating down your door begging to play your music? These performers could have made easier money these last few nights giving lessons, but instead they chose to rehearse your music and play it in public. Not that you made any effort to make your piece playable, carefully deciding on page turns, enharmonic spellings, cues, rehearsal letters and other niceties of that sort.
Look at the first recording of Górecki's Second Symphony, the one conducted by Tamas Pal on some label you never heard of before. It just simply doesn't have the same polish and impact as the newer recording conducted by Antoni Wit on Naxos. And newsflash: Dawn Upshaw with David Zinman was not the first to record Górecki's now popular Third Symphony (though admittedly the Third presents the performers with fewer challenges than the Second).
Another thing that gets me: composers worried about someone stealing their music. Relax. In fact, chillax. You can safely leave the score to your avant-garde opus magnum on the table in some public place and no one will steal it. They might even find some way to return it to you. To get someone to steal an avant-garde composition, you'd probably have to pay the thief to do it.
Compared to complaints about how awful the performers were, just plain silent ingratitude would be very good. I'm not saying that no concert of mine will never again have living composer other than myself on the programme. It's just that I will be way more selective, considering not only the quality of their work, but also their personalities.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Music composition: nothing to be proud of
The writing of music is a difficult and daunting calling. And yet, it is wrong to be arrogant about being a composer, to look down on other composers, even if you honestly think you're better than them. If you look down on anyone, you bet there's someone looking down on you.
A few days ago, a student composer, let's call him "Kramer," said this to me: "I don't mean to put you down, but there is a big difference between what I do and what you do. It takes a lot of study. I'm not saying that what you do is bad." Then he started rambling and I figured a polite way to extricate myself from what had become an unilateral conversation consisting mostly of put-downs.
I don't know if Kramer has Alzheimer's, but I suppose even if I knew he doesn't, I still wouldn't have at that moment thought of the response his comments deserved. Something like this:
"I hear you loud and clear, I understand where you're coming from. Most of your classical compositions have only been played once each, almost always at the university where you study. One of your compositions has been played thrice, once outside of the university, and that was because of me each time; the last time cost me so much sacrifice and sleepless nights, and now it is the only one of your classical compositions that we can even begin to say that it has a 'performance tradition' associated with it. Some of your classical compositions have been published by a company that you and one other composer created specifically to publish your own compositions, and despite the company's stated desire to represent other composers, you two are the only ones published by said company. Maybe one of your rock songs has been played a hundred times more often than all your classical compositions combined, but this only serves to underscore the fact that your rock glory days are far, far behind you and few if any of your rock fans have followed your shift to classical. So please, continue telling me about what a great composer you are."
But I didn't say any of that to Kramer. Maybe out of some misguided sense of not wanting to burn bridges at any cost. But Kramer is the one who burnt the bridge. So now this post is just for the sake of getting this off my chest. Maybe after today Kramer's compositions will get some more repeat performances outside the university. But it damn sure as hell won't be due to any effort of mine.
A few days ago, a student composer, let's call him "Kramer," said this to me: "I don't mean to put you down, but there is a big difference between what I do and what you do. It takes a lot of study. I'm not saying that what you do is bad." Then he started rambling and I figured a polite way to extricate myself from what had become an unilateral conversation consisting mostly of put-downs.
I don't know if Kramer has Alzheimer's, but I suppose even if I knew he doesn't, I still wouldn't have at that moment thought of the response his comments deserved. Something like this:
"I hear you loud and clear, I understand where you're coming from. Most of your classical compositions have only been played once each, almost always at the university where you study. One of your compositions has been played thrice, once outside of the university, and that was because of me each time; the last time cost me so much sacrifice and sleepless nights, and now it is the only one of your classical compositions that we can even begin to say that it has a 'performance tradition' associated with it. Some of your classical compositions have been published by a company that you and one other composer created specifically to publish your own compositions, and despite the company's stated desire to represent other composers, you two are the only ones published by said company. Maybe one of your rock songs has been played a hundred times more often than all your classical compositions combined, but this only serves to underscore the fact that your rock glory days are far, far behind you and few if any of your rock fans have followed your shift to classical. So please, continue telling me about what a great composer you are."
But I didn't say any of that to Kramer. Maybe out of some misguided sense of not wanting to burn bridges at any cost. But Kramer is the one who burnt the bridge. So now this post is just for the sake of getting this off my chest. Maybe after today Kramer's compositions will get some more repeat performances outside the university. But it damn sure as hell won't be due to any effort of mine.
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