Modern Classical Music: A Composer’s Journal Entries November 24 - November 30, 2004

November 24, 2004

3 a.m. Hardly wrote a note today. Sarah & Chris are here from Asheville, staying next door for a week or so. Sarah at the front door, shining as usual, wearing her flat grey velvet hat with the crushed flowers to one side. I loaned them a can opener, which I now realize they have not returned. So much for getting the pickle jar open.

An e-mail from Bob Spear. He is almost finished typing the first movement of the quintet into his computer program. In my opinion, his job is harder than mine - although I suppose it is easier than carving violins, violas and cellos into being. Bob is now urging me to write the piece for St. Michael for his octet of new stringed instruments - his instruments are undoubtedly among the finest new instruments in the world. Rostropovitch has one of his cellos ...

Diana e-mailed from Dallas - she has not had time to lay out the new books. She says she will get to it in a few weeks. Myra wrote to remind me to find a new publisher. I dutifully scribbled it down on a small piece of torn paper I found near the computer. Must check Sergey’s orphanage webpage for translation errors.

Saturday, November 27

1 a.m. Went to the ballet studio with Sarah today, to watch (her sister) Cindy rehearse the Sugar Plum & Cavalier. I will try to do more composing tonight. The many gaps in my sketch are slowly being filled in as ideas surface - so many ideas, eventually I must choose. What I am working on now is basically the inner & bass voices. Sometimes I cannot inwardly hear them, I more feel them. Sometimes I hear a rhythm, but no pitches really. More often, I hear too many voices, too many lines, & for this piece I only have five voices to work with - unless I score in many double stops. This would not be a good idea, the musicians are not familiar with these new instruments ... So now it is a task of paring down what I am inwardly hearing. More than once I have regretted not writing this piece for Bob’s new octet of instruments, as he requested ...

Still - there is something so very beautiful about a string quintet. Now to find that beauty & express it through the score ...

Bob e-mailed me again today. He has found five players finally, & he wrote that now he can sleep again at night. These new instruments are a different size and range than the usual stringed instruments. What we would ordinarily call the viola is held like a cello. The strings are pitched differently as well, & some are in a different clef, so all the fingerings change - basically the players are transposing. When I rehearsed "Elegy" with Bob’s last group of players, the soprano violinist said that she was "playing by number", she had written all the fingerings in to all the scores. They played Elegy very beautifully, I was very pleased.

Bob is looking for a hall downtown that we can use, checking the acoustics & fees. This concert is scheduled for mid-February. I haven’t finished writing the piece, Bob hasn’t even finished printing up movement one, & the players haven’t received any of the score. If our concert deadline isn’t met I will lose my grant & won’t be able to pay the musicians.

After writing that last sentence, I think I will make myself a nice cup of decaf coffee & continue composing.

Sunday, November 28

Windgarth, 2:30 p.m. We are here at the lake. Raining when I awoke, but now the sun is out, a beautiful day. Fairly warm. Shoveled seaweed into the gardens. M. went to a performance of Nutcracker, at the northern tip of the lake, so I am here by myself. I am sitting on Larry & Cindy’s dock, Larry is away for the weekend. A few dark clouds surrounded by blue, the mountains calm in the distance. Some wind, many little ripples in the water which seems to be moving north rather hurriedly - as M. was on her way to the Nutcracker. I have felt Cindy’s presence all afternoon. Brought the quintet score with me & will do some work on it while I am here, on the old upright downstairs. If I look left from my seat at the piano I can see the lake ...

Deb hasn’t taken the canoe in yet. The roses are still blooming.

Last night, as I fell asleep, I heard many inner voices to the quintet’s final pages. I was too tired to write them down, but they are still here today.

Came inside & lit the downstairs stove. An old note from Kay on the piano: "the dishes are in the basement, on the washer-dryer." I might as well plunge in & write some music.

Tuesday, November 30

Ithaca, 1 a.m. Sarah & Chris stopped by briefly today. Sarah was wearing a soft, light pink dress with sparkles - & a fluffy pink & grey winter scarf that went well with both her hat & dress. Chris said: "She’s beautiful isn’t she. She looks like an angel" & I had to agree. He smiled & observed her with pleasure & added that he has been asking that angels surround her: "I’m asking for a pink ray & a purple one - & a gold one as well. Especially the gold one, don’t you think?" & he turned to me to see if I thought that a good idea. And then with a mild flurry they left to do some errands. They leave for Asheville tomorrow & I will miss them terribly.

Except for a brief outing with JF & Adam, I spent the rest of the day composing. Now that I have both developed & learned the musical vocabulary of Movement III - & it is a vocabulary - the inner voices are falling into place quite nicely, effortlessly. It’s a bit of a shame - finally we learn a new language, & then the piece is finished & we never speak or hear it again. Except in concerts or recordings.

Of course, that isn’t entirely true. Other pieces I will write in the future will reflect the harmonies & intervals developed in this quintet - like a patois with old friends around the fireside - but I will never again explore these sounds in the same way or depth. So now my mind is finally bursting with ideas & intervals, expanding infinitely outwards from the last movement I have been writing - & I, like my dear friend Chris, will need in the future to put them through a violet or gold or pink ray, so that they hang in the air & in my mind in a different way & with different themes & bass lines & forms.

The sketch is entirely filled in now, & quite a mess to look at in some places. Tomorrow I hope to begin copying it out into score form. Bob is still way behind me in his awful task of entering all these little notes into his computer. Undoubtedly, I will have finished writing most of the new Prayer to St. Michael before he has finished printing up this quintet.

I am done with composing for the day. Maybe I will take a walk to the falls or meditate. The night is young & silent, & I do not wish to clutter my mind until this score is copied out.