Seeking balance in a chaotic world
“Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter” performed by Edward Cohen, November 2020.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
I just love Ed’s attention to articulation in this recording. He used the accents and dynamic changes to tell a story here, and that takes a tremendous amount of artistry and skill.
Today I completed a new piano sonata. What a relief to be finished. I can’t believe it’s over. I feel that I’ve completed something epic. I’ve climbed a mountain.
I started this music in Spring of 2016, during a difficult time in my life, and continued working on it until today, February 20, 2020. In fact, a good chunk of the second movement was written back in 2008, as a completely different piece which has now been dismantled. So this music’s been with me a while.
This music guided me through many life experiences, and was in turn inspired by those life experiences. As a result the sonata takes the listener on a real journey through my wants and hopes and dreams and emotions. It’s a tour of my psyche.
As I’ve noted in other posts about this sonata, this music is riddled with hope. It’s everywhere you turn in this sonata. It’s the main theme of the whole damn piece. Turns out my psyche must have a lot of hope in it.
Oh there’s other themes too: love and healing and time and growth. They all wind around each other, they are all intertwined.
This sonata is also really dang long. I started to say something, then had more to say, then more and more and more. The story takes its time to unfold. If you listen to this whole piece, you will drink deeply from my well of creativity.
I hope this music inspires and touches you.
Today’s big winner is….. Makoto Ozone!
Have a listen to some music I finished today:
It’s called “A Joyful Adventure.” I wrote it after listening to this enlightened set of variations by Makoto Ozone:
This is Yoshi, a Japanese pianist, performing Ozone’s funky arrangement of Chopin’s Waltz no.7. What Ozone did to this waltz was brilliant, such a lovely mix of jazz with romantic.
Ozone’s treatment of Chopin put me in a jazzy mood, and helped free my mind from the rut of writer’s block that creeps up on me from time to time. After listening to this a number of times, I felt very creative. I wanted to play around with these jazzy colors, so I wrote the music above as an homage to Ozone. And by homage, I mean I totally stole his mojo.
Play the video starting at 3:17, and you will hear the rhythm I lifted from Ozone. I wanted to take that exact soundscape and make it my own, to write something as tasty as possible.
Of course, once I started down that road my project quickly morphed into something new, something that doesn’t feel like stealing at all. The music packs its own flavor of punch. It’s got something new to say.
By the way, I was also listening to some Gershwin while writing this music, and wouldn’t you know it, some of his mojo got sponged up into my music as well.
Who will I steal from tomorrow?… Only time will tell.
By the way, this music is based very loosely on Mazurek Dobrowskiego, the Polish national anthem. It is also the final section of my 2nd piano sonata, which you can listen to in its entirety here.
When life becomes intense, I tend to stop writing music for a time. This is usually due to a simple lack of time. When a child is newly born, or a business newly started, there is little free time to compose music. However these intense times also plant the seeds for the ripest artistic fruit. Momentous occasions, personal tragedies or triumphs, and major life changes generate emotions that (for me) can only fully be expressed through art. So usually during these crazy times, I am full of artistic energy but have no time to actually put it somewhere.
This music was written when life was crazy. Not sure how I found the time to compose this, but thank god I did. I remember composing a note here and there between teaching classes. In my life, everything was falling apart. I won’t go into the details other than to say that shit had hit the fan. The music I think is still optimistic in its own way. I am an optimist at heart myself. What am I supposed to do, write the saddest music you ever heard? I’m not some tortured Romantic weeping into the piano. I prefer music with a bit of a lift, what can I say?
Love themes pop up all over the place in this music. They poke their heads around corners and say hello, sometimes flirtatiously, sometimes with more serious undertones. Then after they say what they came to say, they flit away again. This whole sonata has that quality as well, and it’s something I really love about this music. I love love themes, especially when they aren’t overly gooey, but more sincere, more complex.
This music is in sonata form. It’s got a lot of Beethoven-inspired content in there, with some country-western overtones. I really like the return of the main theme (starting at 7:57) all the way to the end. This is some of my strongest writing in the more strictly classical vein. There is a touch of modern dissonance in there, but this is truly a classical work.
…at times a bit too classical-sounding? Hard to say. I expressed much that I wished to express with this music, but also something was holding me back I think. I clung tightly to the old forms and styles. My own voice emerges plenty of times throughout the piece, but I don’t feel like I am always my authentic self in every corner of the music. Even if the music sounds like it’s made of 100 different ideas, good old sonata form is right there through the whole piece. Beethoven hovers over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow at every jazzy dissonance.
Ok so the ghost of Beethoven has haunted me for years, and I still haven’t found a way to put him down, to unspool him from my music. But I would ask: how can a house be expected to unbolt itself from its very foundation and just walk away?
So Beethoven remains, and the music is more structured for it. I could go back and try to shoe horn more stylistic originality into the music, but I am going to cut my losses and write the next thing instead. This is still me trying to figure out how to write a sonata, and what I want MY sonatas to actually sound like. Everyone has to have student work. Or perhaps all work is student work, if we never stop learning.
A while back, before Charlie was born, back when I first started this website, I was working on some variations on Poland’s national anthem. This started as a challenge from Polish pianist Joanna Różewska to do something with Polish folk music.
I worked diligently on it for a while, but got too in my own head about it. I couldn’t figure out what direction to take the music. Should it be variations? Also do I have any kind of connection to this music, to Poland? What am I trying to say with this?
I wrote the main body of the first variation, and never got further than that. After chasing my own tail for a while, I put this project down and walked away, thinking wrongly that what I had written so far wasn’t all that good. What also happened around that time was I quit teaching, went to Rome with Erica and Jack for a month, then came back and started a totally new career. I wasn’t writing much music during that crazy time…. When I finally came back to composing a few months later, I was rediscovering the magic of writing Quiquern, which became my musical obsession going forward. The Poland music was suspended indefinitely.
Over the next year or so I began to spin out the plan for my second sonata. I wanted the sonata to end with a redemptive quality, with a strong overtone of love and hope. As I’ve said before, so much of my music reaches for this same sentiment. Maybe I’ve just got love and hope on the brain.
What better way to express that sentiment than with the idea that something that once seemed lost may yet still be recoverable. The title “Not Yet Lost” stood out in my mind as the right way to express these feelings. Suddenly the Polish music had a meaning I could relate to, something I would enjoy exploring and playing around with. Though I am no Polish patriot, and the the nationalistic thrust behind the Polish anthem has no historical significance to me personally, the sentiment behind the music suddenly struck a chord inside me. It clicked! I dove back into the music and started sketching out ideas.
This is hard to describe in words: I wanted to take the hope contained in Mazurek Dąbrowskiego, and create variations on that. In other words, the variations are not so much variations on the musical theme (melody) itself, but instead on the theme of the music: the idea that something that seems lost is actually not yet lost, a hope for the future, a hope that we can build something worth building. That’s what Mazurek Dąbrowskiego expresses, and that’s why I chose it, not because of the melody. I took the melody in the theme and dismantled it, and sprinkled the component parts throughout my variations, but the variations don’t sound like the theme. But they do express love, hope, excitement, eagerness, etc. That’s the reason why, in the end, I call them “reinventions” instead of variations.
Here is the main theme:
From the get-go this music establishes a gentle, gliding, loving vibe. Though the original lyrics to Mazurek Dąbrowskiego are all about marching off to victory, I’ve dropped all of that militarism and allowed the simple clarity of the melody to linger in the air for a minute. I’ve also dropped the original 3/4 time. This meter switch has deprived it of any recognizable Mazurka sound, and instead given the tune a more spacious 4/4 runway.
The first reinvention goes like this:
This reinvention was largely already completed from my work on this piece over a year ago. I went back in and tightened up the form, took all the puzzle pieces I had struggled to connect and re-sculpted them so they fit together just fine. Turns out the puzzle pieces were all made of clay anyhow.
I originally thought that first reinvention sounded like Nordstrom’s piano noodling, but now I don’t think so anymore. Now I just hear a love theme. If the original theme is a reserved and sweet little love, this first variation is more of a gushy, open-armed love. This music is plush and at times unabashed in its amorous sentimentality. That suits me well for my current frame of mind.
The second reinvention goes like this:
This one was largely influenced by Bach, specifically this Gavotte from English Suite #3:
I heard that little nugget on the radio a few weeks ago and couldn’t get it out of my head. I wanted to create something of my own with that same snappy Gavotte feeling. I also wanted to make sure that this music had something to say about love. This love music is at times brooding and stormy, other times playful and jolly, and sometimes it’s reaching for something inspirational. It fits in with the other music, even if it sounds unique. I’d also like to note that the jolly bits have a certain dance-like quality, which stems from the Gavotte that originally inspired it.
Took me about two weeks to write that 2nd reinvention, though I should note that the only time I really get to work on any of this stuff is like 10pm to 11pm. So two weeks is pretty decent turn-around time for me.
As you listen, you’ll hear fragments of the Polish melody shining through, though it gets warped by the motion of the music around it. I do not take a vert strict view of Theme and Variations. I don’t want to write a set of ten perfect little variations, the way Mozart did for example:
That’s too clean for my taste. And dare I say it, maybe even a bit boring by the time the 5th or 6th variation rolls in. My variations are much more difficult to put into clean little boxes. Instead they wander and play and do pretty much whatever I want them to do. They do not conform to the original structure of the initial theme. Of course this means I have to be careful to make sure the source material still comes through to the listener and not just the musicologist. This is a tricky tightrope to walk.
That initial Polish theme, in my opinion, is too simple for straight variations. It has wonderful expressive potential, especially for writing inspirational, loving, or even glorious music, music that reaches for a higher ideal. But if I stick to that initial structure for 10 variations, I’d get bored….
I don’t think I’ll write 10 reinventions or variations or whatever any ways. Maybe I’ll just do 3 or 4, not sure yet. It’s not about coming up with as many variations as I can. It’s about crafting a larger piece of music, with a grander story arc that takes the listener where I want them to go. In other words, this form is a vehicle to express my overall point: that hope and love are not lost, that something which at one point might have seemed unreachable can in fact be reached. I think for that reason, each variation will reach for something. This music will be riddled with hope and grand gestures, bold statements.
That’s not to say the theme isn’t in there. This entire variation is built out of the theme. Just look at the first melody line:
Those notes are the same notes as the main melody of the Polish tune, though now woven into a quicker kind of Baroque-y thing that is also minor. But even if it is hard to pick out that original melody by ear, the structure is right there on paper. I like variations like this. I want to write a Bach-inspired romp with a few metal-esque riffs in there, music that makes you want to hear it again, makes you think. It can sound new but still have deep roots to the past. It’s a fun challenge. Above all else, I want this music to say what I need it to say, even if that means I have to cast aside any sort of intense loyalty to the original melody. This is my art, so I control the form.
When all is said and done, I’m writing far too much music to squeeze into one sonata. I’ll probably have to “cull the herd” a bit, and only keep the music that truly speaks the way I need it to speak. A lot of this other material will end up in the rubbish heap (“bonus tracks”).
Now onto the next reinvention!
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
This music was performed by Edward Cohen.
Today I finished writing the second movement of my second sonata.
I worked on this for some time, trying to express something I can’t quite put into words. About times that were hard, when I found my self searching fruitlessly for a summer bird during the dead of winter.
All the main melodies throughout this piece started as song.
You know how it goes when you have a lot to say… too much to say. You try to squeeze too much meat into the sausage and it starts to look a bit unseemly. The feelings and hopes I wanted to express in the music could never fit into one song.
So I exploded the music and let it wander and quest for 20 minutes. It still feels like a song to me.. but now it spins and wrangles and waits and wants, and pulls you along and along like a river.
This is music about healing. Healing is not pleasant when it’s actually happening. Sure it feels great once it’s done, but the process itself is slow. It requires intense patience, and often comes with pain. So this music isn’t about being healed, but about healing.
This music is about waiting, about not giving up, about continuing to strive for optimism even when prospects remain dreary. The length of the music allows it to take on a new character: it stretches out before you, unabashedly long, extending into the distance, as if we are standing on a hill top on a cold, crisp day, looking out over endless miles of fields, trying to make out a little puff of smoke in the distance. Is it a cloud, or perhaps chimney smoke?
We start to get a sense of the power of time. Each little musical episode represents a day, a unique moment in one’s life. Day after day after day passes. There are beautiful moments and challenging ones, but they all pass eventually, and soon become part of a larger tapestry, where common themes emerge.
Life is like this as well. As we deal with each day’s unique challenges and surprises, it can be difficult to see the common threads that tie our lives together. However as the years stack up, those common themes become steel cables that tether us to our loved ones, and to our shared histories. The daily episodes fade in terms of importance in comparison to the mountainous weight of the passing years. In the end these main themes, these shared memories, these bonds become everything that matters to us. They become the vision we have created of ourselves and what we believe in: who we are, what we have stood for, what it means to be a family, what it means to love, what we feel we have accomplished, what we hope to pass on to our children, what we wish to be remembered for.
So in a way this is a song about life and about building a life with someone. It isn’t a clean story arc (neither is life). At times the music swells, other times it falls. But most times, like life, it just goes by, stacking up over time, adding on more and more experiences, until by the end you’ve lost track of some of it. The whole thing blurs together, with certain important moments standing out.
And there through it all are the main themes, the bonds that tie us all together, growing stronger with each passing moment.
So I’m working on “Not Yet Lost“, trying to finish this first variation, but I’m feeling a bit stuck in the weeds. I keep generating ideas that I like, but I’m not sure how to use them, how they are supposed to connect. I’m pretty good at generating these little nuggets, but then I end up surrounded by fragments, unable to fit them all together. Not to mention that the more varietals I develop, the more I start to lose sight of the main theme I am supposed to be developing.
In the previous post, I laid out the main theme:
Followed by variation #1, now with some additional material:
So that’s the little forest I’ve wandered into. Where is it going? Is it building toward a climax? Maybe it just wants to wander further afield. Or perhaps it’s time to steer it back to a place that feels like home. Where are you going little baby of mine?
New ideas are popping into my brain, even as I write this. I’m going to go work more on this project, try to find the way out. Stabbing blindly with my sabre through the elephant grass…
Sometimes composing music feels like painting a jigsaw puzzle that is already disassembled. I’m not even sure how the pieces are supposed to fit together, yet I’m supposed to paint the completed picture onto the disassembled pieces. It can be a frustratingly slow adventure. Perhaps I need to learn another way to visualize this process. Schoenberg probably would not be impressed with my approach. As he put it,”A composer does not, of course, add bit by bit, as a child does with blocks. He conceives an entire composition as a spontaneous vision. Then he proceeds, like Michelangelo who chiselled his Moses out of marble without sketches, complete in every detail…” Well la dee da. I guess I’m not quite up to that level yet. Better keep practicing until I can chisel a perfect symphony out of marble without sketching first.
In the spirit of Schoenberg’s method, I am trying to visualize as much of the Polish piece as possible BEFORE actually writing it. Here’s what I’ve got so far:
Main Theme
Variation 1
Here’s what that whole introduction sounds like:
Following that, I’d like to introduce a version of the theme in 3/4 time, maybe something kinda funky. To be honest, this is where things get fuzzy. I’ve got a bunch of ideas, but I’m not really sure how they fit together.
You see, though I’m trying to picture the piece in its entirety, I still can’t help but visualize these sections as puzzle pieces waiting to be assembled into a complete picture. I seem to generate little islands of music, then try to string them together into an archipelago.
Well, that’s where I’m at for now. I’ll let you know if I miraculously generate a fully-formed piece in the next hour or so.
I’ve generated enough ideas for this Polish piece, that now I can no longer hide behind the old “I’m still sketching” excuse. I could, if I let myself, just sketch new ideas forever. But then I would never finish anything. Rule number two of Robert Heinlein’s Rules for Writers is “Finish what you start.” It’s time to develop these ideas, flesh them out into a completed thought. That kind of work is the real work of composing, and it’s hard.
I am searching for a suitable beginning to this piece. I like a number of the ideas I have developed, but I’m having trouble deciding which one to start the piece with. I don’t think I want to start the piece with a simple statement of the theme…. I don’t know, it just feels a bit dated to me. Plus the theme has a nice patriotic punch to it, and I’d rather save that punch for later in the piece. I am leaning toward using this iteration of the theme as the beginning:
It’s got a nice vibe to it, mixing major and minor modes. It also states the main theme of the anthem without being too obvious about it. However I don’t know if the timing is quite right yet… More space, less space? So hard to decide. It also feels a bit repetitive to me. But I think it’s in my nature to imagine my music is more annoyingly repetitive than it actually is. My wife Erica recently reminded me that people enjoy a bit of repetition, especially when it comes to the main theme. Music does not need to be a collection of thirty random ideas one after the other in order to be enjoyable. I want to create “art,” but I also want the average listener to enjoy my work. I do not intend to write music solely for musicologists to enjoy (at least not at the moment). I want to write catchy but deep, varied and creative but cleverly organized, modernesque but rooted in solid classical harmony.
I’ve realized I am not a fast composer. I have to turn an idea over and over in my head until I am finally satisfied with it (or resigned to using it). I figure if it’s catchy enough to stick in my brain, then it’s good enough to work with. I have never been one to just churn out perfect, completed music. I take my sweet time. Maybe one day I will learn how to be prolific, but for now I am still studying the art of completing a piece. Sometimes I want to quit. It’s hard to be creative. It’s easier to go watch tv or cruise Facebook… or write a blog post. But if I wish to call myself an artist, I have to make art!
Back to work. I need to decide if this beginning is actually the beginning, or just something I’ve gotten stuck in my head.
