Showing posts with label composer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label composer. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Blog Index — Organized by Topic (®Sept/2016)

Welcome to another year of composition studies! I wish you much growth and success on your journey to becoming the best composer you can be.

My primary motivation in creating this blog was to provide a forum in which a variety of composition-related topics could be explored and discussed in greater depth than is feasible in the classes I teach at Memorial University. While this was created for my students, comments may be left by anyone. Periodically, spam-bots leave comments, usually characterized by their enthusiastic brevity, followed by a link of some sort, kind of like this: "Great post! It really made me think. Check out DezynerSunGlassez.con for fantastic deals!"

Other times the spam-bot leaves some incredibly long-winded word collection, possibly copied from some obscure technical manual. I have no idea what the point of any of these spam posts is, but, if you see a comment that even vaguely resembles spam, do not click on any links, and let me know about it asap.

I get an automatic notification anytime someone leaves a comment, no matter how old the post, so, feel free to comment on very old posts if the topic interests you.

Below is an index of most blogs posted thus far. Entries relating to class business – reminders of deadlines, concert congratulations, order of class presentation, etc. – are omitted.

Links are loosely organized by topic to facilitate browsing.


→ Exploring the Creative Process; Struggles and Solutions ←
Strike While the Iron is Hot! (includes section on "writer's block")

→ Planning ←

→ Playing With Expectations; Musical Dichotomies ←

→ Composition Techniques 

→ Form in Post-Tonal Music ←

→ Atonality; What's in a Name? ←


→ Winning and Losing; Judging and Being Judged ←

→ Audience Response to Contemporary Classical Music and Marketing ←

→ Composition Issues (10-part series that started this blog) ←
1.1. The quality of ideas may not matter very much in assessing compositions that emerge from them; and
1.2. The degree to which these ideas are original may not matter very much.
2.1. Study the music of others.
2.2. Compose as much as you can.
2.3. Invite criticism from others.
3.1. Live with it for a while.
3.2. What is it about?
3.3. Does it change character?
3.4. What is its function within the context of the piece?
3.5. Structural Analysis.
3.6. Harmonic (or Pitch, Scale, etc.) Analysis.
7.1. Less is more / More is more
7.2. Always leave them wanting more / Give them what they want
7.3. Don't treat the listener like an idiot / There's a sucker born every minute
7.4. There can be too much of a good thing / If you have a good idea, then stick with it!
7.5. The George Costanza approach.
8.1. Three models for the role of a composer
8.2. Mastery or Mystery?
8.3. The value of a plan
8.4. Getting stuck, and possible workarounds
8.5. Don't obsess
8.6. Challenges = Opportunities

→ Composition Projects ←

Friday, March 6, 2015

Daring to Dream Big – Pros and Cons (1)

Today's post was inspired by a family trip to Walt Disney World last summer, a place where the word "dreams" is a kind of idée fixe. Here are some examples associated with Disney:

  • The Disney Dreamers Academy ("We help unlock the potential in young people and enable them to imagine their futures anew through inspirational leaders who show how to set goals, make plans and dream big.");
  • A Dreams Come True parade, which in a previous iteration was called…
  • Walt Disney's Parade of Dreamswhose eight floats included Getaway to Dreams, Dream of Enchantment, Dream of Laughter, Dream of Another World, Dream of Imagination, Dream of Adventure, and Dreams Come True;
  • The Dream Along With Mickey show;
  • One Man's Dream (a pavilion celebrating the life of Walt Disney);
  • Many promotions, such as the Year of a Million Dreams (Oct 2006 to end of 2008; an unusually-long year!), which included Disney Dreams Giveaways (my boys and I were randomly given Mickey skullcaps with plastic ears one day);
  • Many commercials that use the word "dream;" and
  • The Disney Dream (cruise ship).

Disney marketers and imagineers clearly believe that many of us are attracted by the idea of following our dreams, but what are the risks and rewards of doing so, and, in particular, of daring to dream "big" dreams?



There is much encouragement to fearlessly follow our dreams in songs, movies, biographies, interviews, etc. — wildly successful people are often said to have done so — but what about people whose life experiences have been more like those of Wile E. Coyote (see below; a lifetime of frustration, aided largely by his unshakable-but-consistently-misplaced faith in faulty products from the Acme Co. catalog, followed by the cancellation of his show) or Charlie Brown (who, according to Wikipedia's rather harsh description, "fails in almost everything he does"), than those of Walt Disney or Bill Gates? Don't big dreams lead to big disappointments?

An ill-conceived plan; this will not end well. 
For Wile E. Coyote, they never do.


For Charlie Brown, life can sometimes feel like an endless series of disappointments.

Well, for me the answer is obvious: Big dreams can lead to big disappointments, but that doesn't mean we should not have them.

To be clear, by “dreams,” I mean aspirations or goals, as opposed to the reveries we all have during REM state while sleeping, most of which we are unlikely to remember. And by "big" dreams, I mean lofty aspirations, such as wanting to become ridiculously rich, wanting to be the King of Iceland (bad news: Iceland's monarchy ended in 1944, but who knows, maybe they'll bring it back for you!), or wanting to become a ridiculously-rich great composer AND the King of Iceland, and be recognized as such by your subjects, the good people of Iceland.



Walt Disney supposedly said, all our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them, and if you can dream it, you can do it.

(These quotes are frequently attributed to Disney on the Internet, as well as in How to Be Like Walt; Capturing the Magic Every Day of Your Life (2004) by Pat Williams. However, I have yet to find when, where, and in what context these statements were made, making me wonder if he actually said them, or if an awful lot of Disneyphiles wish he had said them.)

As mentioned above, daring to follow your dreams is promoted as a core belief at Disney theme parks and in many Disney movies. This advice is summed up nicely in the following song, by Leigh Harline and Ned Washington, from Walt Disney's 1940 adaptation of Pinocchio.
When you wish upon a star
Makes no difference who you are
Anything your heart desires
Will come to you
If your heart is in your dream
No request is too extreme
When you wish upon a star
As dreamers do
Fate is kind
She brings to those who love
The sweet fulfillment of
Their secret longing
Like a bolt out of the blue
Fate steps in and sees you through
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams come true

Of course, it's not just the Walt Disney Corporation that promotes this belief/marketing strategy; many others have expressed similar sentiments:
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
Eleanor Roosevelt
Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.
Harriet Tubman 
If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavours to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
Henry David Thoreau


But before we all quit our day-jobs and head off to Hollywood (or Iceland), it may be prudent to ask ourselves whether it is wise to dream big. Here are some quotes that may give you pause:
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
Oscar Wilde 
A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.
John Barrymore
He was a dreamer, a thinker, a speculative philosopher... or, as his wife would have it, an idiot.
Douglas Adams
Dreams will get you nowhere, a good kick in the pants will take you a long way.
Baltasar Gracian
Take everything easy and quit dreaming and brooding and you will be well guarded from a thousand evils.
Amy Lowell
When younger writers and poets, musicians and painters are weakened by a stemming of funds, they come to me saddened, not as full of dreams and excitement and ideas. I am then weakened and diminished, and made less rich.
Maya Angelou
It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.
J. K. Rowling
The last four quotes above (highlighted) are particularly sobering; they articulate the dilemma with which we all must wrestle:
While it is probably true that many or even most great things could not have been achieved without big dreams, it is also true that most dreams do not come to fruition, and indeed, the loftier the dream, the lower the likelihood of its coming to pass, and the greater the potential disappointment.


There have been at least ten different songs — as well as a television series, a film, a painting, and a book — with the title, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams."

Broken dreams — dashed hopes — is cleary a concept that resonates for many people, just as the more hopeful Disney quotations above also resonate for many, presumably because we all have had aspirations of varying magnitudes during the course of our lives, but we have all experienced deep disappointments along the way as well; we have all felt both optimism and dismay at different times.

We must all learn to navigate between chasing lofty dreams and pragmatism, but my advice for all composers is to go ahead and dream as big as you wish, because you are unlikely to find much success without first dreaming of it.

However, greatness in composition does not result from luck, like winning a lottery; it is the product of years of hard work (a relentless work ethic), critical thinking, welcoming brutally-honest feedback from others,  thinking outside and inside boxes, belief in yourself, a positive attitude in the face of rejections, a measure of pragmatism, constant striving to improve, self promotion, the ability to cultivate good interpersonal relationships, and many other factors, some of which I have discussed in previous posts. Luck can certainly play a part as well, especially in terms of one's success as a composer — composers are sometimes "championed" by music directors and conductors, for example — but even in cases like these, you have to be good to be lucky, as the sports saying goes.

So, go ahead and dream big, but be prepared to put in a lot of hard work along the way. Be pragmatic at least some of the time, because we cannot survive, let alone entertain lofty aspirations, without the provision of our basic needs, such as food, shelter, clothing, and Belgian dark chocolate, but be aware that too much pragmatism can be a dream-killer; a highly-pragmatic person might decide to abandon their dreams in favour of more "realistic"or achievable goals, and, while there is nothing inherently wrong with that, I wonder how many people would ever achieve their dreams if we all felt this way.



It may be comforting to know that many people who did not achieve their "Plan A" dream were successful in achieving their Plan B (or C, or D, or …) dream; failure in one area can lead to success in a different one. Or, to put it another way, most people who achieved success in one area were unsuccessful in others along the way.

If Plan A did not work out, you are one plan closer to the one that will work out, provided that you keep setting goals and working towards reaching them.

When I was a boy, I wanted to be a writer. That was Plan A. While I didn't exactly fail at that – I am writing these very words right now (! and these!!!), and I have written many other things as well, some of which have been published – at some point, I decided I would rather become a guitarist and songwriter in a wildly successful rock band, kind of like George Harrison in The Beatles. This became Plan B, and it seemed like a pretty good gig, with excellent salary and benefits.

After spending most of my teen years playing guitar for 6+ hours every day (no exaggeration; I played from the moment I woke up to the point I had to go to school, then after school 'till bedtime, with occasional interruptions to eat, do homework, and sports), it began to dawn on me that Plan B was unlikely to come to fruition, for several reasons , one of which being that I was not Paul McCartney's friend (George and Paul became friends as teenagers). Nor did I know any Paul McCartney-types, meaning fantastic musicians who could play anything, were seemingly indefatigable and constantly in good spirits, workaholics, and on a path towards becoming, arguably, the most successful song-writer in the history of popular music. Paul made things happen. I knew no one like that.

Other roadblocks in achieving Plan B were that I was also not as good a guitarist as George, and I lacked the alpha personality to form a band, ruthlessly fire people who did not work out, get gigs for the band, or go through all of the other stressful experiences involved in the formation of a successful rock band.

So, what to do instead? Well, I didn't really have a Plan C, so I went to university and got a BA degree in Humanities. I finished a few weeks after my 20th birthday, and promptly got a job as a telephone information operator at Grey Coach Bus Lines, in Toronto.

Not bad at all, eh? Living the dream!

Indeed. But despite the giddiness that came from having a regular salary, I decided that I REALLY wanted to make some kind of music dream happen, but maybe I should learn a little more about music first; I thought it might be useful to learn how harmony worked.

A friend suggested I take a class in music rudiments at the Royal Conservatory of Music (RCM) in Toronto, So I did – every Saturday morning, along with a bunch of kids who seemed to be around 12-16. Thus, at the age of 20, I began learning about key signatures, how to subdivide different meters, and how to spell different chords. What the heck am I doing, and why am I doing it, I wondered, frequently. This is not helping further my dream of becoming a rock musician.

I was learning nothing about how harmony works, or song-writing for that matter, so, when I finished the rudiments course, I decided to take a harmony course. And then I decided to take more history and theory courses after that.

This is an example of "falling down the rabbit hole," because, what with one thing leading to another, in no time at all (well, 15 years, but that's not long, geologically speaking) I ended up with a doctorate in classical music composition.

However, since I like to feel that I am not, strictly speaking, a geological formation, 15 years actually felt like a very long time indeed.
Quick digression: On the question of whether we are or are, or are not, geological formations, John Donne wrote a famous poem called, No Man is an Island (Meditation XVII – Devotions upon Emergent Occasions). Paul Simon wrote a song in which the protagonist unsuccessfully argues the opposing viewpoint: I am a Rock, I am an Island.
Getting a doctorate was not Plan C, however; at least not initially.

No, Plan C was becoming a jazz guitarist, because, while working at Grey Coach, I had begun to stay out 'till all hours of the night listening to jazz musicians, and I decided that playing such music in poorly-attended clubs on a nightly basis was the life for me.

So I studied jazz guitar for a while, while continuing to work at various jobs and study at the Conservatory, but – and I don't exactly remember how this happened – somewhere along the way, I started to become inordinately excited about renaissance counterpoint, contemporary music composition, and all manner of musical studies.

This – becoming a skilled composer – became Plan D.

Initially, my lofty aspiration within Plan D was to finish all the RCM harmony, counterpoint, and history exams. This was Plan D, part 1. It took about 2.5 years, but when I accomplished this, I decided to pursue studies leading to an ARCT in Composition (Plan D, part 2). This involved writing 12 three-hour exams in a variety of musical styles, such as renaissance counterpoint, baroque harmony and counterpoint, 19th-century harmony, contemporary techniques, history (all periods), and analysis. It took me 4.5 years to complete all exams. So, that's a total of 7 years of music studies so far, for those keeping score.

My next lofty aspiration (plan D, part 3) was to do a master's degree in composition at U of T. This was seemingly impossible, since I did not have a BMus degree, and U of T was famous for telling prospective applicants to go away and perish if there was anything irregular about their background.

After an interview that was perhaps the most humiliating experience of my life, U of T very grudgingly allowed me to take a year of 4th-year courses with no degree standing. The understanding was that if I did well enough, my 4th-year music results, plus my ARCT in composition and my BA degree, might make me admissible to their master's degree.

I apparently did well enough in my one year as a 4th-year Faculty of Music student – some of the courses, such as renaissance counterpoint, were easier than the level of exams I had taken at the RCM, but that was fine by me – because I was admitted into their master's programme in composition the next year. I finished it within 9 months.

I had, at that point, completed 9 years of music studies, which of course only began after I had already graduated from university.

Plan D, part 3, was about as lofty as my dreams got at that point in my life. I never gave much thought to what I would do if and when I ever got a master's degree in composition. I thought perhaps I could become a private music teacher, and make a living that way, while continuing to compose music, and hopefully win a prize or two some day.

But then the Faculty of Music's graduate secretary called me one day and asked if I was planning to apply to the doctoral programme, and I thought, okay, why not? And so I did, and that – getting a doctorate in music composition – became Plan D, part 4.

Plan D – all 4 parts – took 15 years to complete from my first rudiments class to the completion of my doctorate degree. During this time, I worked as a sales clerk at The Bay, a department store in Toronto, most of the time. I also sold stereo equipment briefly. And, around the time I turned 30, I was hired by the RCM to teach composition, theory and history, so, while I wasn't making much money, I was able to get by. I also got married, and we had a lovely daughter along the way, who became the greatest and most meaningful joy of my life.

The trouble with Plan D, aside from the length of time it took to complete it, was that it was almost impossible to make a living as a composer of contemporary classical music in Canada, no matter how skilled you might become. People who make a living from composition usually work in other fields, such as television, cinema, advertising, and video games, not in contemporary classical music. The only exception I was aware of at the time was R. Murray Schafer.

While there are many 'art-music' composers in Canada, almost all of them do not make their living from their compositions. Most do other work, such as teaching, among many other options, or they are supported by a partner or their family.

When I realized this, I decided to pursue a new plan – Plan E – which was to become a composition and theory professor. I did not appreciate what an absurdly-improbable aspiration this was at the time; there may have been only about 6-7 full-time, tenure-track university jobs in composition that became available over the past 26 years in Canada.

And somehow, through a lot of work, perseverance, many ups and downs, and an inordinate quantity of luck, Plan E worked out, for which I thank my lucky stars every day. The collateral damage was that my wife and I separated, and then divorced along the way, and I only got to see my daughter for a few weeks every year, although we spoke on the phone for many hours every week. All of this was extremely painful, as you might expect.

Eventually (about 7 years after I started working as a professor in Newfoundland), fortune smiled upon me again, because I became friends with, and eventually married, another professor, and we have been blessed to have two more children, plus many cats, and a hound. My daughter and I have remained close through her entire life (she is almost 28), but I never stopped missing her.

So, it took a ridiculous amount of time and many revisions of plans, but it all worked out in the end, at least so far.



I would guess that variations of this story – many plans, over many years, with many ups and downs along the way – are pretty common for many people in different walks of life.



Here's a chart that I had fun with (when I wasn't getting frustrated over the challenges of formatting it in HTML); the statements on the "pro" side (left column) are arguments in favour of pursuing one's dream, with counter-arguments represented on the right column. To be clear, neither side necessarily represents views that I hold; this is just a thought experiment, looking at the pros and cons of following one's dreams.

Which statements do you agree with?

Some Pros and Cons of Dreaming Big Dreams
• Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

• Nothing great was ever achieved without first dreaming of it (me, paraphrasing Emerson)


• Dare to live the life you have dreamed for yourself. Go forward and make your dreams come true (Emerson)
• The greater our enthusiasm, the greater the pain we feel when something does not work out

• The greater the dream, the less likely it is to come true. Dream of small  achievements, like finding a good parking spot, and you won't be too disappointed when they don't work out.

• You are unlikely to make your dreams come true unless you dream of small things, like finding a good parking spot, or beating the boss level in a video game.
• When you have a dream, and follow that dream, you will gain from the experience, no matter the outcome (me)

• Pain, disappointment, and frustration are all experiences from which we can learn (me)


• That which does not kill us makes us stronger (Neitzsche)





• Yeah, you'll gain pain, that's the only guaranteed outcome of following a dream!

• Sure, you can learn from these things; it doesn't mean you have to go looking for them, however. Why not choose a safer path that is more likely to produce a positive result?

• Neitzsche alienated many during his life, and became become "effectively unemployable… Subsequent feelings of revenge and resentment embittered him," (Wikipedia: Nietzsche) and he eventually went mad. This would seem to call into question his statement in the left column.
• All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them (Disney)• This is self-evidently ridiculous, but in case you feel otherwise, here is why: Even if your dreams have no imagination whatsoever, like aspiring to find a good parking spot when you go shopping, there will be times when your dreams do not come true. You may have to park a long way from your favourite mall entrance during the Christmas rush. The store may be sold out of the item you really want. Your favourite restaurant may take your favourite dish off the menu. And if your dreams are loftier than this, there is a greater probability that at least some (and probably most) will not come true.
• Did Disney even say this, or is this something that the Disney Corporation wants you to believe while visiting their theme parks, presumably so that you will spend lots of money making sure your kids' dreams are not dashed?
We are all resilient, to varying degrees. Yes, following a dream can lead to profound disappointment, and even leave us feeling crushed; however, we have it in us to bounce back and try again, possibly a little wiser from experiencing the setback

• Not only are we resilient, we are adaptable; if, after working at it for some time, we conclude that our dream is unattainable, we can re-think our dream and come up with another one. Frequently "dream B" (or dream "C," "D," "E," etc.) succeeds in a way that exceeds our wildest hopes for "dream A" 
• Some people are more resilient than others. We all have a pain limit… If chasing a dream fails repeatedly, and the pain of it all becomes too much to bear, perhaps we should stop chasing that dream

• Well, if you conclude that "dream A" will not work out, or if you conclude that to continue pursuing it is resulting in more pain and frustration than you can bear, do you really want to open yourself up to more of the same by chasing "dream B," "C," and "D?"
• There is no path in life that is devoid of pain, frustration, and disappointment. Yes, following your dream can (and likely will) lead to negative experiences, but to think you can avoid them completely by following another path is foolish. So, if these are a given in life, why not experience them pursuing your dream, instead of following a "safer" path that you don't really want to be on?• Some paths have a significantly-lower probability of success than others. If my dream is to become a huge Broadway star — the next Idina Menzel — and I find myself reduced to doing poorly-paying sporadic dinner-theatre shows to bored audiences in suburbia twenty years from now, I don't think I would be very happy. There is a time to admit when your plans are not likely to lead to a positive outcome, and come up with more realistic plans
The decision of when to follow your dream, versus when to modify your expectations and pursue something else, comes down to "risk tolerance;" how much are you willing to risk, and for how long, in order to achieve your dream? It's a dilemma with which most people wrestle, and there's no, "one size fits all" solution for everyone.

I've known people who kept chasing their dreams until they turned 35 or even 40, at which point they experienced a mid-life crisis because they were poor, and didn't have a back-up plan; how do you train for a different profession AND subsequently get hired when you're 40? (Ans.: It's possible; I've known people who did this, but it's not easy). 

How do you start a family if you are poor throughout your twenties and thirties? (Ans.: This too is possible – I know people who did this – but, once again, it is not easy, because raising children well can be a fairly-expensive proposition (clothes, baby paraphernalia (car seats, strollers, toys), food, an instrument if they want to do music, music or dance lessons, band trips, etc.)). 

My concluding thought is that, while I think it 
 something with which most people struggle, and it is a decision we must all work out for ourselves. 
• I actually agree with many of the points on either side of the above, "pros and cons" chart. I think it's good to have a dream, and to overcome any fears that may be preventing you from pursuing your dream. 

• I also think it's wise to check-in with reality periodically (acknowledging that different people have different realities), and to consider other options if option A is not working.

    • I have met successful business people who told me that they too had dreamt of becoming musicians, but they ultimately decided to go to business school when it became apparent that their dream was not likely to pan out. The people I met didn't seem to regret their decision at all, presumably because they found tremendous success in another area of life, and I think this is fairly common. 

       But part of my motivation in holding onto my dream of becoming a composer was the worry that, if I didn't go after my dream, I would regret it later in life. I don't know if I actually would have regretted it or not, of course — in retrospect, I think I might have been content in other pursuits as well — but I didn't want to become a bitter old man, regretting things he didn't do in life, so I stuck with my goal, despite frequent doubts as to the wisdom/practicality of this goal, and some significant, soul-crushing setbacks along the way. Luckily, things worked out, at least so far…


Tuesday, May 6, 2014

"If you can name it, don't use it" (3; my take)

The background for this entry is that Jessica Blenis, a former student of mine, reported receiving this advice during graduate studies and finding it problematic.  Her thoughts on the matter can be found in the previous post (March 15, 2014).

If you find the title of this post interesting or provocative, I recommend reading the comment to #1 in this series by Warren Enstrom, an undergraduate studying at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. (You can find it here.) He writes extremely well, and makes thoughtful points in favour of the advice, "if you can name it, don't use it." In his penultimate paragraph, Warren writes:
"I interpret it as a push to find your own statement of voice in your own style, rather than accidentally limiting your pallet by seeing yourself as a Cagean, or a spectralist, or a minimalist, or any other such distinction, because unless you were alive, in New York, in the 50s, or in the 70s and 80s, or in France in the 70s, you're not, strictly speaking, a Cagean, you're not a minimalist, and you're not a spectralist; you're just writing in a similar style at a later point in time."
… And this seems a good summary of the argument in support of this advice to young composers.

The Composer's Toolbox; Green Eggs and Ham

I can imagine circumstances in which this could be a useful exercise — such as if I had a student who was reluctant to move beyond established techniques, in which case a "push" (or gentle nudge) to find their own style might be advisable. Most of us don't want to end up writing music that sounds like that of a different and  more established composer, even if we are don't mind borrowing others' techniques.

For the most part, however, I do not advocate this approach.

Jessica mentions the "composer's toolbox" analogy in her post, wherein one acquires as many skills and "tricks of the trade" (i.e., tools) as possible during compositional training (the training period never ends, by the way). These tools invariably include many existing compositional techniques, such as counterpoint, different harmonic languages, and serialism.

Some of the attractive aspects of this analogy are:
  1. Having many such tools can contribute to greater versatility as a composer; 
  2. Greater versatility gives you more options in writing the kind of music you want to hear;
  3. Greater versatility gives you more options for when you are stuck;
  4. Versatility is essential if you want to compose for film, stage, television, or opera. In fact, it's pretty useful for any kind of music you compose.
  5. Among the most  challenging compositional skills to develop are development of ideas, motivic unity, and motivic growth, which are all related to each other. Developing proficiency at these and other skills (such as orchestration) will almost certainly make you a better composer; 
  6. Paradoxically, a personal style of composition can emerge from the mastery of many skills and techniques, probably because of #2.
The "composer's toolbox" idea is one of the reasons I have students try things they otherwise might not wish to try, such as serialism, atonal chords with varying tension levels, Messiaen techniques, compositions based on a specific pitch collection such as the ever-popular 014 trichord (e.g., C, C#, E), compositions involving only three pitch classes, and more.

In trying these things, many (but not all) students experience a Dr. Seussian "Green Eggs and Ham" conversion experience wherein they start with suspicion about the value of whatever device or technique we are trying (I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am!), only to come around to an appreciation for the value of the exercise (I do so like green eggs and ham. Thank you. Thank you, Sam-I-Am) after trying it.



On the other hand…

The toolbox analogy is, of course, not perfect.  Here are some thoughts I don't believe I have ever had while composing:
  • "I think I'll try a dash of Messiaen here — non-retrogradable rhythms, and, oh I don't know… perhaps his fifth mode of limited transposition — that would be perfect!"
  • "Pointillism, if I know anything about anything, is what kids are really into these days, so pointillism it shall be in my next chef d'oevre! Because my fans demand it!"
  • "You say you want thirty minutes of music by tomorrow? Why, this calls for some Philip Glass! Waiter! Cheque please!"
In other words, I don't consciously set out to imitate a style or technique when I compose. And yet, I have borrowed elements or ideas related to the above (well, except for Phillip Glass) for my music whenever it seemed like a good idea.

For example, I recall writing a piece for chamber orchestra about 30 years ago in which, influenced by Messiaen, I constructed a mode of limited transposition (MLT) whose pitch class order does not repeat at the octave, as his do, but it repeats every three octaves, since the basic building block on which subsequent intervallic content is based spans a major sixth:



Was this a good idea? Hard to say…  I  think it's an interesting idea, however; I notice, for example, that the above MLT has many 014 trichords, which would likely have a unifying function on a composition based on this. One challenge, at least if you like octave doublings to reinforce a line, is that no consistent octave doublings are possible unless they are three octaves apart.

The point is this: It is possible to manipulate someone else's idea in a way that results in something new. Composers and other artists have done this for centuries.

Not only that; it is possible to use existing (i.e., non-manipulated) ideas, devices, or techniques in creating compositions that are recognizably your own.

Thousands of composers have used major and minor scales, for example in producing compositions that are considered to be original (in the loose sense in which this term is used in music), and the same is true of cadence formulas,  accompaniment figures (e.g., Alberti bass), forms (e.g., binary, ternary, sonata, and rondo), thematic construction (e.g., period, sentence), chord progressions, and serialism. Composers wrote fugues before and after Bach, and many of them are good compositions; should Bach and subsequent composers have avoided the fugue because it had a name? Beethoven wrote sonatas and symphonies after hundreds of previous composers had already done so, and yet we don't generally criticize Beethoven for his 'lack of originality' in this regard.

Pointillism in music has been around for about 90 years, and yet it still attracts me at times (most recently last summer, when it showed up in a piece I wrote for trumpet, trombone, and piano). It seems unlikely that previous composers exhausted every possible avenue in this regard, and the same, I suspect, is true of most ideas or techniques that I can think of.

On the other hand, I have a hard time imagining the possibility of a composition based on conventions found in the music of Phillip Glass that would sound original to anyone but Phillip Glass; emulating Mr. Glass seems like a dead-end to me, but perhaps another composer might find a way to take the various clichés associated with his music in a new direction.



Another weakness in the "toolbox" analogy is that some 20th-century composers achieved fame without strong skills in areas that, historically, were considered essential to a composer's toolbox, such as traditional counterpoint or harmony. The two composers who come most to mind in this regard are Xenakis and John Cage.  I discussed this in: "How much theory do you have to know in order to be a composer?"


Self-Censorship

A potentially negative aspect of the "if it's got a name, don't use it" advice is the possibility that it can lead to becoming overly self-conscious, or self-censorious, leading to writer's block. If a well-informed composer were up to date on most contemporary and historical practices in music, it seems likely that this composer would struggle to write anything that had not, in some way, been done before.

As I wrote in an earlier postbeing overly concerned with the originality of one's creations may be counter-productive, because it can lead to extreme self-censorship, i.e., not continuing any musical ideas because, upon reflection, they are not original enough.

Of course, the ability to be self-critical is essential if one wishes to do great (or even good) things, which is wherein the paradox lies; too much of it leads to writer's block, too little can lead to facile and cliché-ridden music. Of these two extremes, it seems to me that the latter is preferable if only because we generally become better composers by composing, even if some of it is pretty bad; we don't tend to improve much by blocking every creative impulse because it's been done before.


Uniqueness vs. Shared Traits

It is often said that no two people (or snowflakes) are exactly alike, which suggests that the combination of qualities that make up your personality is unique. I believe this to be true, but I think it is also true that we all share many individual qualities, and thus it seems to me that while everybody is unique, nobody is 100% original.

In a similar way, if we compose regularly and often, while constantly striving to improve the work we produce, we will naturally reach a point wherein the uniqueness of our personality is manifested in our music without a self-conscious attempt to make it so, although our music will share various characteristics with other music, and this is the way it has always been.


The Imperative of Newness: Modernism

While belief in musical progress or in the principle of innovation is not new or unique to modernism, such values are particularly important within modernist aesthetic stances.
—Edward Campbell, Boulez, Music and Philosophy (2010, 37)
Have you ever wondered where the idea that art must reject tradition and blaze new trails comes from? While historical periods in art have always been distinguishable from one another in various ways, they have usually been similar to one another in other ways as well.

"If you can name it, don't use it" sounds like the kind of thinking associated with Modernism in art.  Wikepedia's article on Modernism (retrieved 26/04/2014) states:
The poet Ezra Pound's 1934 injunction to "Make it new!" was the touchstone of the movement's approach towards what it saw as the now obsolete culture of the past. 
Although Modernism in art is still alive and well today, its heyday in music was probably ca. the first sixty years of the twentieth century, and thus, paradoxically, it might be argued that in order to "make it new" in our postmodernist time, we should be rejecting modernism.

However, in rejecting previous practices, and the desire to "make it new," we would be espousing modernism even as we are rejecting it.  Confused yet?

In any event, I see great value in employing existing techniques and ideas in new compositions, as long as you bring something to these techniques and ideas that is at least somewhat original. This strikes me as (a) practical — it is virtually impossible to write music without any traces of "nameable" techniques or practices, and (b) in keeping with historical practice — with the exception of modernism, art history is more about modifying existing practices than it is about rejecting all past practices.



As I was writing the above, this song kept playing in my head:

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Jessica Blenis Guest Blog: "If you can name it, don't use it" (2)

As mentioned in my previous post, Jessica Blenis recently left a comment on a post I wrote almost six years ago called "Why Atonal/Post-Tonal Music?" (I wrote that post as an explanation for a restriction I impose on my students' first projects.) I asked if she would be willing to have her comment made into a blog entry, and she agreed, so this is it. Huge thanks to Jess for her comment, and for being willing to share it with others!

Brief background:  Jessica graduated from Memorial University a few years ago with degrees in music composition/theory, and music education, and is currently working on her Master's degree at the University of Calgary.

Jess's blog entries are reflective, insightful, and consistently well written; hers are among the best student blogs I have read. Here are links to her current blog, in which she writes about the process leading to her master's thesis, and her Soundcloud page, in which you can hear selections of her music:

http://jessicompositions3.blogspot.ca/
https://soundcloud.com/jblenis



Jessica writes:

Wow! I can't believe this was posted so long ago! Glad to see that it's still inciting thought-provoking conversations and comments from those who are just stepping into the waters.

I'm now about halfway through a M. Mus degree in composition and have been writing atonal music since I took Dr. Ross's intro to composition course at M.U.N. I was intimidated at first and didn't know exactly what to write; I think that most of this was because I didn't identify atonality as being a part of my voice as a composer. I was so used to drawing from limited palette of colours associated only with tonality- they could be combined many different ways, but would always be within a familiar and friendly spectrum.

As a result, my first atonal piece actually sounds nothing like any of the music I've composed since. I didn't identify it as being something "Jess Blenis-y" and nor would I say the same today. I wrote it that way because I based it on what my perception of what atonal music was — and I thought it was ugly. I had this idea that atonal music was always dissonant, always strained, unreasonable, a grinding of notes together making noise rather than music. My piece was a result of that.

I've learned since then that while each composer has a sort of 'sound' that we connect to them when we hear their pieces, their voice isn't always the same from one piece to the next… Unless we're talking about Philip Glass, but let's not go there… A composer's voice is like a chameleon — it adapts to its environment, but still retains some essence of a character which comes directly from the composer. Using familiar and favourite compositional tools is good — it helps create a foundation for your sound — but diversity is fantastic. I remember how surprised I was the first time I heard Schoenberg's "Verklärte Nacht" after having associated him primarily with serialism.

The more we listen and learn about other composers, the more we learn what resonates within ourselves. Adding tools to your toolbox will give you more to draw from, and it's OK to use these tools to create your own voice, even if some of them are strongly associated with one composer or another.

Not long ago I was told that "…If you can name it, you can't use it." Which to me didn't make much sense. Why would I spend years and years (not to mention thousands of dollars) on learning about these techniques if I wasn't allowed to use them? Atonality, polytonality, serialism, spectralism, whole-tone, pentatonic, aleatory, etc.… John Cage (ab)used silence, so I can't do that, either. So what's left? This is a question that I've been struggling to answer since then.

I've decided that I don't like that statement. If I can name it, I can use it. It's the way in which I use these techniques and tools that matters; not the fact that for a brief second, you might get a glimpse of Varèse or Debussy in my music. I'm not saying that you should blatantly steal from other composers, but you can use their tools in your own way. Take Monet's paintbrush and make a sculpture with it. Make it yours.

If you have any thoughts on this “If you can name it, don't use it,” please feel free to share them! I'm still digesting it. It's not going down easy so I'd be glad to hear from other composers!

So for those of you who are new to the concept of atonality, don't worry — it's not a monster — it's simply misunderstood. The more you listen and study, the more you'll understand and enjoy. There are some really gorgeous pieces out there that happen to be atonal — and you might not even realize that they are atonal while hearing them, because you can relate to them. The form, the instrumentation, the idea behind the music — atonality isn't a strange and alien thing. It's a key to a new box of tools.

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Blog Index — Organized by Topic (®Jun/2014)


Below is an index of most blogs posted thus far. I omitted entries that seemed less interesting or relevant, such as reminders of deadlines, concert congratulations, order of class presentation, etc.

These are loosely organized by topic to facilitate browsing; clicking on any blog title will take you to that blog post. You may find some that give you ideas about composition techniques, or that contain useful things to think about when composing, including suggestions for what to try when you are stuck.


→ Originality and Art ←


→ Playing With Expectations ←

→ Form in Post-Tonal Music ←

→ Argh! I'm Stuck! ←
Strike While the Iron is Hot! (see section on "writer's block")

→ Atonality – What's in a Name? ←

→ Winning and Losing; Judging and Being Judged ←

→ Audience Response to Contemporary Classical Music ←

→ On Composition (Miscellaneous Topics) ←

→ Composition Issues (10-part series) ←
1.1. The quality of ideas may not matter very much in determining the quality of the complete composition that emerges from them; and
1.2. The degree to which these ideas are original may not matter very much.

2.1. Study the music of others.
2.2. Compose as much as you can.
2.3. Invite criticism from others.

3.1. Live with it for a while.
3.2. What's it about?
3.3. Does it change character?
3.4. What is its function within the context of the piece?
3.5. Structural Analysis.
3.6. Harmonic (or Pitch, Scale, etc.) Analysis.




7.1. Less is more, vs. More is more.
7.2. Always leave them wanting more, vs. Give them what they want.
7.3. Don't treat the listener like an idiot, vs. There's a sucker born every minute.
7.4. There can be 'too much of a good thing,' vs. If you have a good idea, then stick with it!
7.5. The George Costanza approach.

8.1. The three models for composers' roles.
8.2. Mastery or Mystery?
8.3. The value of a plan.
8.4. Getting stuck, and possible workarounds.
8.5. Don't obsess!
8.6. Challenges = Opportunities for inspired solutions!



→ Thematic Growth, and other Technical Considerations ←

→ Nuts and Bolts; Score Details, etc. 

→ Composition Projects ←