This is another entry based on a reply I just made to a student blog comment.
Students sometimes tell me that they are not content with their composition, be it finished or in progress. They know it could be better, or perhaps feel it ought to be better, but they are not exactly sure how to achieve this. And meanwhile, there's usually a deadline fast approaching... Yikes!
We tend to want our music to be not only good, but personal as well. People who hear unfamiliar works by well-known composers can often recognize who wrote them, which suggests that there is something of ourselves — almost like a strand of DNA — in the things we create; or at least this seems to be the case in the hands of great composers, bands, and artists in general.
Knowing that what we create is in some way a reflection of who we are, and possessing the ability to discern the difference between great and not great music, it is not unusual to wish that our compositions were better, which can lead to frustration when we don't know how to improve them to a standard of which we can feel proud.
If it is any consolation, this "creative angst" is a normal part of the creative process, even, at times, for experienced composers. I suspect that all people who create things experience this on a fairly regular basis. I worry more about people who never experience this, particularly when they are fairly new to composition, because I wonder if it means that they are not sufficiently self-critical, or their ability to distinguish between good and not good ideas is insufficiently developed.
The more you compose, the more developed and sophisticated your compositional skills become, so if this project is one of your first forays into writing music, rest assured that your ability to write the kind of music of which you are capable will grow significantly, as long as you don't give up.
Regarding your weekly composition projects, I would just encourage you persevere until you're pretty sure that each one is as good as you can make it for now, and then move on to the next piece.
When you start out as a composer your ability to discern between good and bad in music (any aspect, such as interpretation, performance, and compositional excellence) generally exceeds your compositional abilities. This is the compositional equivalent to the adage about one's reach exceeding one's grasp, which comes from Robert Browning's poem, "Andrea Del Sarto" (line 98). Browning actually writes, Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?
I like Browning's use of the word "should." It suggests to me that we should not become complacent about our work; we should always strive for something better, even if it lies just out of our reach in terms of our current compositional development.
It is nearly impossible to reach a point where you are 100% satisfied with your creations. "I know what good music is," you might think to yourself, "and this [your composition] isn't it!" But how did you come to know what good vs. not good music is? As a general rule, this ability is one we develop over many years of performing, listening, and studying a wide variety of music.
The same is true of compositional skills. If you keep at it, you will reach the point where you become better able to express what you want through music, and thereby become more satisfied with what you create. And the improvement of compositional skills can actually come pretty quickly; when you reach the end of this course, you may surprise yourself by how the speed with which you developed from a compositional neophyte to someone whose compositions became significantly better.
And your skills will get better if you persevere.
There is a beneficial aspect of creative angst: The points in a composition that gave you the most grief in the composition process can become the sections of which you are proudest when your composition is finished, provided that you did not give up in your attempts to improve them. These "angst-ridden" points may turn out to be the most inspired, since greater inspiration is often necessary to work through creative roadblocks. Read more on this in "Running into a Brick Wall," if you like.
UPDATE:
Mathieu, the first commentator below, writes: One's music software abilities are also in need of development. I found that the hardest part of achieving some satisfaction with my piece was learning to use the software. Much time has been spent on one bar trying to get the right rhythms …
That is an excellent point! I will just add that not only does it take time to become proficient in music notation software, it also takes time to learn how to notate rhythms, particularly tricky ones, whether we use software or write music by hand. Often we only realize that our notation is flawed when, after inputing it into notation software, we discover that the playback does not match the rhythms we had in mind.
More generally, it also takes time to learn how to notate our ideas in the most effective way (and most correct way) for prospective performers. This is one of the reasons we spend so much time discussing notation in classes and lessons, which includes notating rhythms, note spellings, beaming, correct meters (eg, 3/2 is not the same as 6/4), extended techniques, chance & out of time elements, along with instructions for these devices that are as clear as possible for performers, and much more.
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Final Recital of the Final Piece
11 years ago
37 comments:
Ones music software abilities are also in need of development. I found that the hardest part of achieving some satisfaction with my piece was learning to use the software. Much time has been spent on one bar trying to get the right rhythms, dynamics, etc...I ended up with somewhat simple rhythms and handwritten dynamics.
I listen to the compositions being played in class and always think that I am the only person who finds this hard. But that is obviously not true. My first attempt on my piece was my first compositional attempt ever! And I was very naive to think that it would come easily. I can already see how it will get easier, but also bring about new challenges as I dive deeper and deeper into my compositions.
Sometimes I cough or even sneeze on my compositions, so I believe very faithfully that they contain my DNA, haha.
I find that re-working pieces can be very fruitful sometimes. Often when I am reworking a section or part I come up with a new motif or texture or something of the sort that I sometimes even take out of the piece and put on a board for another time. I feel there is always room to improve a piece, even if it means writing in an accidental or such just as a score is being handed in. Our works really are only going to be judged once, so as music writers we'll have to try to make that performance the best we can. Just my two cents.
That pretty much sums up how I'm feeling about my compositions right now!
I've never really sat to and wrote an atonal composition before let alone taking the time to write it out and observe it. I'm finding that the ideas I hear in my head and sometimes play on the piano are quite a bit more advance than my ending result. and that's kind of frustrating in the beginning because you feel as if you have just 'dumbed down' your composition.
I've also been finding the musical software quite tedious to use as well. It looks so much cleaner and it gives you a preview of what you have written out at the cost of taking twice as long to finish a piece.
It all comes in time I hope!
I can definitely related to this.
In fact, I've found my compositional abilities to be a bit capricious over the years. I'll sit down and write something and it'll turn out great. I listen to it later and go 'Wow, how did I even manage to write that myself?'. And then the next time I try to write something, I'll feel completely inept. Nothing comes out how I want it to. It's quite frustrating, actually.
I guess all there is to do is to keep composing, and (hopefully) grow in one's ability to be consistent.
Its interesting to see everyone's comments being so similar to my own thoughts. I can completely agree with this post of "creative angst" as well! I find that i can come up with good compositional ideas and then not know where to take them in my writing process. That.. is so frustrating. Especially with a deadline. However it is so satisfying when you get a lightbulb moment and write something that you like!!! Its like "woah!! i wrote that? WICKED!" - those would be my exact words, in fact!
I find that when im frustrated, just taking a 5 minute break to improvise on piano helps alot. Then when i go back to writing, Im not as stressed. Sometimes that helps as well, just fooling around with notes on the piano sometimes gives me my best ideas for composing!
-Kim
I found that the first week was really difficult. I felt like I didn't know where to start, and everything I wrote just sounded like a random thought that I didn't now how to string together with the other random thoughts on the page. I definitely found this week a lot easier though, I finally found a thought process that was much more connected and practical than last week. While I know that I'm still going to struggle with writing some weeks, I agree that by the end of the course I should have some solid skills and know much more about myself as a composer.
I'm glad to see that many of us are on the same page! While listening to works by my fellow composers it's hard not to think that others have a better grasp on these projects than myself.
My attemptes at the first character piece seemed so difficult and were very time consuming. It was also very nerve wrecking, hearing it performed in class for the first time.
My second piece was a lot easier to complete, and I was extremely happy with the results. I was so pleased with the piece that it took me forever to write the last one. Everything I would compose wouldn't sound good enough as if it couldn't match what I had previously completed.
I guess this is something that I will get used to as I continue composing, but that doesn't make it less frustrating .
Again, in hindsight. It doesn't seem to get easier. I just wrote my own blog on this, its virtually impossible to compose something you are 100% happy with, but I'm still naively waiting for that day. haha. This has been quite the experience, composing for the first time, and even as I understand more and more about how to compose, the actually process and mental going's on's will never slow down. That is just another face of life that we have to face!
When I write, I kind of like to develop my ideas, work on them a bit, do the best I can, but most importantly I like to move on. Maybe I have a lack of motivation, but I also think that staying on one piece too long can never be too good either. I find the same thing when practicing my trombone. I could sit for hours playing long tones, trying to make the "perfect sound." after a while, its just not going to get better. You often need to just move on. In fact, working on different things in other pieces can often help you in ways you don't expect by developing your skills in other areas. Just keep working on SOMETHING! You're bound to get better!
I have another comment to make about this blog. It talks about the personality of our music... the personal touch, with our "DNA". Firstly, I think your "personal" touch will much longer than this course to develop. Perhaps some of your music will have similarities, but I think a compositional voice will take years, and many compositions to develop!
On a totally different note, I don't really know if I really want people to be able to identify my music as mine. I've taken on a goal which comes partly from what Dr. Ross has said many times in our composition class. My goal is to write music that I like, and that satisfies me, both aurally and intellectually. But I guess even saying this speaks to the personal aspects that I include in my music.
As I sit here in front of the piano two nights from the deadline for my first of the atonal character pieces, I feel as though this blog read my mind! I feel like this is some kind of therapy and I guess in a sense it is. Either way it's encouraging to know that I'm not alone.
As I'm trying to revise and turn each of my three pieces into a "final product" I begin to put more pressure on myself to make it perfect, and an exact representation of the mood I'm trying to create through it.
I am beginning to find some satisfaction through some transitions i was stuck on, and some of them actually make the piece more cohesive and help bring out the character I think. Which i guess brings truth to this entry, the more you do something the better you get at it.
Something that I have had a hard time coming to terms with this year is noted in this blog and has to deal with the expectations we often hold ourselves to. After working in a certain craft for most our lives, we feel that something that is related should come naturally, without much work at all.
Just a couple of years ago I was in the upper strings techniques course, and after the whole year working at it I could not even attempt something more difficult that Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. This was incredibly frustrating because I would then turn to piano which I have been studying for most of my life and be able to play fairly complicated works.
I felt like the violin should be "easier" for some reason. I am finding this year that my similar frustration / battle is with composition.
It was encouraging when I was reminded of how I did not need to have everything absolutely perfect. My first real composition was at the start of this year, and I have learned very much. I believe my second one that I am working on now will be better in some respects. As I continue to keep composing, I know that the craft will become somewhat easier and I will be able to establish my ideas more coherently and effectively.
In the past couple months, after having some of my pieces performed in front of an audience, I get the comment: "So what is your compositional style?" I am always stuck when asked this question, and I then process to fall into a pit of self questioning....what is my style? Do I have a style? If so, what is it, because I certainly do not know. I know that I am more interested in some compositional approaches that others, so maybe I gravitate more towards that avenue that others. I am "trying" to attempt different compositional methods with each new piece that I begin, to see what works for me, and what doesn't. It is obviously a slow process, but I think that I am just now, after a year and a half of composition course, beginning to see a glimpse of my niche.
I do think that my music is a representation of myself. If someone goes to a concert and listens to one of my pieces, I have left an impression on that persons opinion of what he or she thinks of me and my music...whether I like it or not. These are things that I think about....maybe only a little...when I write or listen to my pieces. I'm not 100% concerned if every person loves my work, but it is something that I think about a little.
Do you think that a composer is ever totally satisified with their 'finished' product? I don't think I ever am - there are always little changes that could be made, even after hearing it a hundred times (although I'm lucky to hear it by real players just once). Even the very best composers ever, I wonder if say, Bach, would change any of his pieces. I think it would be pretty hard to be totally absolutely certain that a piece was done.
It IS consoling to know that "creative angst" is normal! I'm always interested in other people's compositional processes, and it's strangely comforting to realize that everyone struggles with these things. I don't know that I'm completely content with my piece, but it is what it is now - with the recital in just two days.
I can also relate to Tim's comment, comparing learning composition to learning a new instrument. I'm taking organ techniques this semester, and though it's similar in many ways to piano, it is also hugely different - it can be frustrating to work through relatively simple pieces, held back by my limited abilities on the organ. Similarly, in composition, it can be hard to nail down the ideas in my head and put them down to paper - it never quite sounds the same. I'm limited by my compositional abilities. I need more practice!
What I find encouraging here is just that: with practice, it will improve. This is all a huge learning experience, and really, that's what I'm here for. If things like this came too easily, there'd be no challenge, no room for improvement, nothing left to learn - and that would be no fun!
After reading these comments, I am happy to realize that creative angst is normal! I can totally relate to this thought, as I often feel that I am the only person in my composition class to experience this. At this point, I find that composing does not come very naturally to me. I feel like I can sometimes create some nice musical ideas, melodies, harmonies and rhythms, but struggle in stringing these ideas together into a legitimate piece of music. Many times I can create an image in my head of what I'm trying to accomplish musically, but putting it to paper is a totally different process! Most of the time, I am actually intimidated to have my compositions played in class because I feel they are inadequate compared to the rest of the class. After reading this blog entry, I feel much more comfortable about my own composing. The more I work at it, the more naturally it will come to me.
This is easy to relate to. Before taking the intro to comp course, I had very little, if any experience composing. I think the biggest reason for that was because I would start working on a piece, and not know how to create what I was hearing in my head.
This created frustration and, hence I did not pursue the skill further. Having to compose for assignment marks has forced me to discover ways in creating the sounds that I want, and gave me a process in working with my pieces until they are something that sounds like the style I'm trying to create. The greatest thing I've learned is that the harder something is to compose, the more likely the skills gained from it will be of big value in the future.
Previous to reading this blog post I never knew what to call what I was feeling when I composed, but "creative angst" sums it up very precisely. Much like many people who are taking Intro to Comp, composing was a new experience for me. I wasn't sure entirely where my attempts at composing were going to start taking me, and to no surprise it was a very different direction than what I had anticipated! Since our semester is beginning to wind down, we've been working on a few different projects, and I find for some assignments I can sit at a piano and ideas come to me so fast and furiously that I cannot get them written down fast enough, and others I can imagine how I would like my piece to sound, but am not sure how to get them onto the paper.
For one of my compositions I presented in class (the Messiaen style), the comment was made that it seems like I have some good ideas in the piece, it's just that there's too many and they seem sort of incoherent. I feel my piece probably came across this way because that's where my brain felt as I was writing-scattered, and full, with ideas of what I wanted, but the inability to reproduce those sounds in notated form. When I revisited the piece some time later, I found it easier to centre in on the ideas I really liked and could make them all blend together instead of it coming across as errant thoughts that came and went too quickly to develop into a holistic piece.
On the comment of DNA being somehow being in our music-this idea is very intimidating to me! The fact that someone can hear a piece of music and identify it as being characteristic of you seems so incredibly personal, as if they know you on a deeper level, and it's out there for the whole world to hear! It leaves you quite vulnerable. I think this may have held me back at the beginning of the semester as I was just entering the unfamiliar territory of composing. As the semester progressed, however, I think I began to grow more comfortable with the idea of the music I was writing being a reflection of the thought process I had while writing, and allowing my classmates to hear my DNA (a very strange concept).
Disappointment with one's own work is an inevitable result of being involved in the process of its creation. We hear the polished, finished versions of the works of famous composers. We don't hear the mistakes and dead ends, the unused ideas and discarded decisions. We hear a single version of the piece, which is presented as “THE PIECE”, inherently correct in and of itself, the piece as it should be. With “great” works, it is often considered flat heresy to suggest that other directions could have been as good, or better. Indeed, few of us think of the lost and changed moments of the music; we simply accept it at face value. And yet when we measure our own work, we bring with us all the baggage of knowing the process of its creation, assessing it against non-existent, theoretical versions of the piece that we are convinced would be better, rather than listening with fresh ears and an unbiased mind. The angst, therefore, is largely unfounded. The composer spends far more time with a piece than the listener, and each come to it with different hopes and expectations. The ideal held in our minds will never be translated exactly into reality, though as our skills improve, we close the gap between vision and execution. It is necessary for us to accept our own biases with regards to our works and to simply do what we can, rather than what we wish we could do.
I sometimes find myself feeling dissatisfied with my composition, not because I think that they are terrible, but because I didn't like how an idea developed but I don't know how to fix it, or the overall style was one that I did not mean to achieve. I often ask myself if I would like the piece as much had I not composed it. As stated in the post, composition requires practice and experience to develop a distinct style. In order to keep a relatively positive attitude when it comes to composing, I try not to focus on my overall thoughts of the piece, and instead I focus on the small things that I liked, whether that be a certain chord, rhythm, or melodic motif. At this stage, it is not necessary that I like all of the music that I compose; what is important is that I use the skills and criticism received from each composition project and start gathering tools for my compositional tool belt. In my opinion, it is probably more beneficial to create and learn than to be caught up in making one piece match my musical expectations, since if I were to follow the latter scenario, I would not be able to write more than a single piece!
I've definitely found myself in this position over the course of the year. In developing an idea, I realize that there wasn't nearly as much material that could come from what I initially had in mind. This is a frustrating point to get to, especially if you think you're sitting down with an idea that is ripe for artistic play only to find that your creative interest dies out not long after you start experimenting and find the limits of the idea. When this happens, I usually put it down and work on another aspect of the piece or a different piece. If, after percolating for a while, the idea still seems dead in the water, I will either abandon it or save it to use in another piece in the future. The anxiety of not letting go of an idea for fear of it being the last creative idea you ever have also makes moving on difficult, but I've been working on getting less personally attached to the piece as it exists at any given point in the process and focus on the work at hand, which I think is more conducive to a healthy creative relationship with a developing piece.
There have been quite a few instances over the past few years where I composed a piece that did not seem to satisfy my vision. My visions were clear when I started these pieces, but as time went on they seemed to veer away. Oftentimes when listening to a piece by either a composer I enjoy or one whose music I have never dug into very deeply, I find myself inspired. This is usually the beginning of my own creative process. However, sometimes I find it challenging trying to comprehend writing something that is too far outside the box of my own knowledge. A lot of the time I am not sure how to exactly approach the desired sound or setting that I want to create, and it becomes increasingly frustrating and time consuming. It is unfortunate when you have a great idea but you are not able to exactly bring it into fruition. That becomes one of the more disheartening aspects of working on a piece you are really invested in. However, in saying this I can look back today and see just how far I have progressed in my own compositional approach and technique over the past few years. Investing time into practicing composition has made these challenges easier to overcome, and I am slowly becoming more able to realize my visions. Being able to compose what I am visualizing is to me one of the most rewarding feelings.
I know since I've started University most of my mood for each day is very often related to how good I think my practicing is or lately how good I think a composition I'm working on at that moment is. If the piece is only okay even, I find I get distraught for the majority of the day thinking about how much I respect fellow student's works while being not super enthused by mine just makes me feel less then everyone. Even if it's just like the marimba piece I was practicing was not very productive and not where I would like it to be, and I hear a really good one section of someone playing a piece they are working on through a wall, I will often think my marimba skills are worse then anyone who has ever played. This is being a bit with composing as well and these are all great points you made that I think are really important to remember in these moments.
Nothing can ever live up to what expectations we build in our minds. The imagination is a powerful thing and to truly express what's in your head is no easy task. It's more a matter of shooting for the best representation you can make. Striving to be happy with a composition is a good way to get stuck on it and become creatively halted. It's typically best to push through and to keep in mind what aspects of the previous piece were so frustrating— this way you can pay particular attention to them in the future.
"When you start out as a composer your musical taste generally exceeds your compositional abilities". I've been trying to verbalize this situation (which I doubtlessly am in myself) and the emotions which come with it for a while. I find it's an especially easy pitfall to succumb to while in a program where you're constantly studying masterworks and preforming repertoire staples; The appreciation is there in spades, but the compositional process hasn't yet been developed to the point where one can create anything that measures up to the works which have inspired them to compose in the first place. It can bring about a real sense of cognitive dissonance. Like you say, it seems to just be a matter of practicing consistently in order to develop compositional fluency. Within my limited experience, I've found the real challenge is acquiring the prerequisite discipline to build these kinds of habits. As you've said, the key is certainly in perseverance.
I get so frustrated sometimes while composing, and that always comes after writing and reworking the same section multiple times and hating every outcome. That is the worst part of creating. When this happens, I know it would be a better idea to walk away and come back a little later when I have calmed down, but I just can’t get myself to stop trying over and over again.
This is a frustrating reality to being an artist, but I’m glad it exists. Without that bit of struggle, we would never see any improvement at all. And we wouldn’t get to learn what we like and dislike. Also, like you said, it would be concerning if I never experienced that because it would point to an inability to judge myself or my compositions adequately.
I think that everyone experiences a "writer's block" or "creator's block" of some sort. But, I think that most of the time, its the voices inside our head telling us we're not good enough, when the piece is fine as it is! Yes, we may have new ideas to bring to our compositions or our other pieces of art, Aaron Sorkin, the man who created "The West Wing", has said that he *always* feels like he could better his scripts, and he is an Oscar-winning screenwriter! All in all, I feel like we should always try and better ourselves and our crafts, but not at the expense of our own mental health.
I think that this is definitely something a lot of artists deal with. I think the idea that you should strive for things even if they are out of reach applies to many areas in life as well. Although this can be frustrating, there is some comfort in setting out to achieve excellence rather than perfection, as its a given that if we strive for perfection, this goal will never be reached. I think taking this approach can allow you to be critical of your work while still not getting cynical or losing hope in your abilities.
Creative angst is something that I can imagine most, if not all, artists relate to in some way, as the products of our creativity are essentially reflections of ourselves. As musicians especially, it is very easy to equate your musical output to your self worth. A common train of thought in performance is: “My performance wasn’t perfect” → “My performance was a failure” → “I, the performer, failed” → “I am a failed musician” → “I am a failure”. When you pour your heart and soul into the emotions of a piece, and it’s met with negative critical reception, it’s easy to jump to the conclusion that everything you put into the performance wasn’t good enough, and therefore you are not good enough. The same phenomenon occurs in composition as well, except the product you are creating lasts longer than, say, a 5-minute live performance. The finished composition you put forward is, theoretically, going to exist like that forever. There’s no forgetting about a blip in a composition the same way you could forget about a one-time blip in a performance. Arguably, composition also involves making yourself a lot more vulnerable than performance might. When you are performing someone else’s music, all you really have to do is follow the instructions on the page to play it decently. However, when you are writing music, all of those ideas come from no one else but you. If something sounds bad, there’s nobody to blame but you and your creative judgment. And it always hurts when a musical idea you really believed in doesn’t end up sounding great, or translating to an audience.
There are lots of critics involved in writing music, but the critic that is always going to have the most to say during the creative process is yourself. One of the worst feelings in the world is knowing that something you wrote isn’t great, but not knowing how to improve it. That feeling of stuckness is hard to overcome, and asking for help from an outside source would involve showing them the music that you’ve written that you don’t like, which is equally as frustrating and difficult to do. I can’t remember where I heard this, I think it might’ve been from Dr. Carter, but this blog post reminded me of the phrase “when things are difficult, that means you’re learning”. When composing a certain section of a piece becomes hard, I find it helpful to step back and think of the fact that this means I am learning and becoming a better composer. And as this blog post says, often the hardest sections to write end up being the best in the end!
I found the point raised by Mathieu to be thought-provoking and I’d like to add to it. Not only does our ability to use notation software hinder us at an early stage, it also moulds our music later on, which is something to be very careful about. I found myself feeling creative angst early in my compositional journey when I would have an idea in my head that I was utterly unable to recreate in notation. It led me to become complacent and to not push as much, because it always meant more work. I’d have to figure out a new tool, workaround, or just generally spend more time working on the composition when I already felt overloaded by the rest of my coursework. I took the easy way out, and most of my early compositions use a minimal amount of special techniques, alternate notation, or other tools used to achieve musically interesting and nuanced ideas that I had in my head. The only way to get over this is to engage with the creative angst, to push against the hard parts, and to find solutions to all of these unique and complex problems. Usually once you’ve mastered a tool it’s much easier to do the second or third time around. Eventually, the tools that once felt anger-inducing and impossible to use become mainstays in your creative arsenal, helping you to notate more of what you imagine in your head. Once you realize the benefits of pushing against your creative angst (in a mindful way, not bull-headedly) you feel more comfortable doing it and the more you do, the stronger your compositions become.
It is very comforting to read these comments and know that lots of other people are in the same boat. I think that one of my biggest struggles is trying to correctly notate my ideas before they disappear or change. It is very frustrating when you can't seem to notate something correctly, or it turns out different than you wanted and you end up disliking it. And Caleb, I relate to your comment so much. I always compare myself to others, even when walking down the practice hall and hearing someone play very well, and I suddenly start feeling like I haven't made enough progress lately, and that I suck compared to everyone else. It's great to know that I'm not the only one who feels this way.
I just finished writing a piece for comp seminar that is partly about my self-doubt, which is where a lot of my creative angst stems from. When I present a piece, especially after comparing it to the work of my peers, I often critique it very harshly in my mind. I feel like it is this self-doubt and being my own harshest critic that contributes to some frustration concerning composing, since I'm always too dead-set on making everything perfect to keep this self-doubt at bay.
The point about music notation software also contributed to this back when I was first starting out with Finale. It was less of a factor once I switched to MuseScore 4, since I already had some knowledge of music notation software at that point.
Only now am I starting to feel more comfortable with older compositions. All the compositions that I created for my compostion recital are pieces that mean a lot to me and have a lot of backstory to them. I got to have a story and to be purposeful when I create my compositons or I just through them away. Now that I´m starting to get my own voice, I feel happier more of the time. I also leave part of my compsotion up to recipe like tactics to ensure a flow more of the time. I dont´t really listen to midi as much as I used to and now rely heavliy on my synesthesia and my ear. This has made me a better composer among other reasons.
Everyone has self doubt, and it is the worst. There has been so many times where I'll present a composition that I think sounds like slop, or performed in an applied lesson feeling immensely unprepared. Nine times out of ten , the piece isn't nearly as bad as I thought, and the lesson almost always goes great! I am my own worst critic. As I have progressed trough my undergrad, my confidence as a composer and performer has grown rapidly since I first started, and I have a clearer idea on what I should get done. I have also learned that when a piece isn't sounding right, it'll always work itself out. for example, I was commissioned to write a piece for piano and marimba over the past summer. When I first began writing the piece, it sounded awful! and I hit a massive brick wall. Then, I listened to a live performance of glass hues no. 5 by Ann Southam. That was the piece I needed to gain the motivation to make my piece something great, and I ended up with a piece that I feel proud of.
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