Have you ever had the feeling you could have done more? After a few hours of work, you look at the music and think, my God, is that it? Is that all I wrote?
I get that feeling, and I know I can do more. A lot more.
Sure, there are lots of creativity helping devices, all helpful to varying degrees. but something that is just as important to composition is the art of managing the rest of your life.
Because if your daily affairs are bothering you then your mind is not clear, and since musical ideas come from a silence within, then having your mind buzzing is really no help at all.
So what do we composers need to have a clear, music-ready state of mind?
A clean studio or working environment
A well organized to-do list that we can rely on so that we do not have to think about what needs to be done as we do the most important thing: composing
A clear plan of the project we are working on
Reliable help in handling business matters
These are all important, especially when working on your own project. But one productivity device is even more powerful than these.
An important deadline from an outside source.
Because nothing makes you more productive than when you have this great big deadline looming and that your work is going to be heard by tons of people.
The irony is that we work at our highest degree of stress-free productivity when faced with a crisis, and for artists a deadline is pretty much a crisis, isn’t it?
But what if it is your own project? Is it possible to impose your own deadline and live by it?
It is so easy to start judging what you write as you write it, and you really shouldn’t.
Of course you should consider technical aspects during composition, things like form and counterpoint and motivic development, that sort of thing. What you shouldn’t do is ask yourself “is this good”? It’s too early for that.
Judging slows down writing to a snail’s pace. Judging hinders creativity. Judging should come after, not during composition.
I know this, but still, this is what has been happening to me lately, and I know it is partly because of fear.
Fear of my music being bad.
I want my music to be worthy of living in the same universe as Bach, Stravinsky and Ravel, a worth-while goal for sure (I mean, what else should I aim form?) but this can sometimes result in a bit of pressure…
So to break the habit I started doing what I think of as “writing rehab” in order to remove that tendency to judge too early and thus, hopefully, open the floodgates to all those ideas waiting to come out.
The rehab plan is this: write a given amount of music in given amount of time. As I relax I will increase the quantity of music to write and the length of the writing session.
Today, I had set for myself a goal of 2 pages of music in one hour. I ended up with a page and a half so, close enough.
I decided to write whatever came out and not stress out about trying to be new or different or anything like that - this is rehab after all! Must relax and focus on the process.
So I wrote this nice little tonal andante for strings, lying down on the nice futon in my studio, pretty relaxed and singing very, very badly…
Here is a roughly sequenced rendition.
If anyone is interested in my sketches, I could scan those once in a while…
I have never been big on gear. Samplers have never turned my crank because, well, it felt more like programming than music.
But with a new wave of programs that can be played in a musical way to emulate acoustics instruments, things are changing and I am following.
For the past few days I have been playing with my BC3a wind controller. You wear it on your head and blow into it as you play the keys and it allows for a much more musical result when performing wind or brass instruments.
And that is the key word here, “performing”, because now it is becoming a performance of a musical phrase, not a piecemeal construction, like some sort of Frankenstein monster!
Today I was trying the BC3a out with the Synful strings and it worked very nicely. I was playing the second violin part and had to listen to the first violins for dynamic balance and phrasing. It was a very musical experience.
Okay, this is what I have been up to for the past few weeks, writing music with one of the most amazing piece of software I have put my hands on in a while - Synful.
Synful is a breakthrough piece of software for orchestral emulation. It is not a sampler but a synthesizer, which means it takes up very little system resources and is able to do things that sample playback can only dream of - such as a true legato, for example.
And the strings are simply amazing to work with. It was amazing to be able to write for strings whatever I felt like writing and then be able to just play it and have it sound great right there. Then just a little bit of MIDI tweaking to add the finishing touches and it was wonderful.
These demos here will be up on the Synful home page as well, go check it out because there are also descriptions of each piece there.
A few days ago a prominent record company sent an email bulletin announcing their new release from a prominent conductor.
It sounded exciting. I opened the email.
Drum roll, please… (The email was in HTML, so it took a few seconds to load. Oh, the suspense!)And finally, this wonderful “new” release was…
Dvorak’s New World Symphony…!What? Again? This is “new”?
Jeez. I rolled my eyes. Sorry, I already have two recordings of that one. Yes, I’m sure this recording is insightful, but I have some dusting to do, sorry.
Listen, looking at the reviews in classical magazines, ezine and websites, it seems to me that one of the problems of classical music is pretty clear.
The same music keeps getting recorded over and over again! Once in a while there is a recording of actual new music, but those get lost in a sea of so-called “classics”. You really have to hunt to find them.
Think about it, could pop-musician have such lucrative and high-profile careers if everyone recorded the same songs? Would pop-music be such a vital presence in modern culture this way?
Look at any pop music magazine and everyone plays new music!
So I say to all you musicians out there, performing and recording new music is the best and perhaps only way to bring classical music back from the mothballs.
Ideally an artist or group would be associated with pieces that they premiered, recorded and performing regularly.
(Of course, it has to be music that people actually like, but that’s for another post.)
“I am able to write short one-movement pieces (2-4 minutes). However, I find it difficult to write convincingly or interestingly for longer streches of time. How can I achieve coherence and thematic unity in larger musical structures?”
- Javier Canseco, student composer at HCC Holyoke, USA.
Hello Javier,
That is a very good question, and a big problem for all composers. I will avoid discussing standard forms but instead will give you a flexible guide to discovering your own path.
First you have to find what you want to achieve in long forms.
Ask yourself this: What pieces of long form do you enjoy listening to? Which ones do you feel do not overstay their welcome?
Everyone’s answer will be different for this, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that.
Then break down the form using timings, not measures. Music is experienced in the context of time, thus form (balance and symmetry…) is achieved on that basis.
Figure this out and you will have set some personal goals to shoot for in your own writing, then you can grow from there.
I would also suggest writing some Theme and Variations as exercises. Longer form generally require that you present your ideas in many different shades.
The Inventions and Sinfonias of Bach are also a good place to look for manipulation of material.
Another place to look, and this is a personal take on it, is at movie structure.
The entire film is broken down into short scenes of a few minutes in length. Each scene, ideally, has a logical self-contained structure (beginning, middle and end) while also serving the film’s material and overall form.
Since a scene in a movie will last only a few minutes, your current ability to write 2 to 4 minute pieces can be seen as the foundation for writing larger works.
Here is one way to go about it; think of the form of your larger piece, plan it out, then break it up into smaller sections - or “scenes “- of a few minutes each.
Each of those scenes must make sense on their own and together form a convincing dramatic arc.
Is a title important for a piece of instrumental music?
Yes.
Even if the piece is non-programmatic and just intended as pure music?
Yes.
Even if the piece is classical?
Yes!
The title is the first thing a prospective listener sees, it is a part of what makes the listener decide whether or not he/she will invest any time listening to your music.
And in a world where we seem to have less and less time, how a person chooses to spend time is a very important decision!
So that title, lost in an ever-increasing sea of music, better grab that right listener, get the curiosity going, the interest peaked and the speakers going.
But what kind of title? Well, that’s my big problem these days.
Getting the right tone, the right attitude, something that says “classical” but also “fun”, “contemporary”, “new”, but without being pompous and arrogant.
It’s not easy.
Personally, if I see a piece called “Allegro” or “Andante” by a modern composer I tend to skip over it. I might be missing out, but that is what happens. I have limited time, and boring titles tend to make me think the piece will be boring as well.
On the other extreme, I usually avoid pieces with flowery and pretentious titles. You know, things like “As the bird flies in the sky of intense, unrelenting boredom” or something like that.
So this is why I still haven’t chosen a title for Sandro’s piece.
On Tuesday I completed the piece for Sandro, fully engraved and looking beautiful. I emailed it over just minutes before I had to go teach.
I was quite nervous about how he would receive it.
I know, the most important thing is that I was happy with the piece. I put all I could into it and it is truly a notch above my previous efforts in many ways. And I would enjoy listening to it as well.
I know that being proud of my piece is the most important thing, but it is only natural that I want Sandro to like it, right?
So I was nervous. As soon as I came back from teaching I ran downstairs to check my email and… no note from Sandro.
At around 7 the phone rang.
I picked up and there was a brief silence at the other end after which a hesitant voice spoke, “Hello, could I speak to Mr. Alain Mayrand, please?”
I thought, man, not another damn telemarketer. My God, they call all the time! I had a cold and was not in the mood.
I almost burst out right away “Listen, I have no time for this right now, will you guys just stop calling!?”
But instead I kept my cool and answered in my most deadpan, don’t-mess-with-me voice “Yes, this is me.”
“This is Sandro Russo calling.”
My jaw dropped. Boy, was I ever glad not to have answered hastily!
What a treat it was to finally speak to this great artist, to add a voice to the emails and pictures. I was so relieved to hear how he was enthusiastic about the piece and couldn’t wait to get going on it. He said he considered it a major work (I would like nothing less, of course, but only time will tell.)
We had a great talk about many musical things and I got a glimpse of his quasi spiritual view of his role in music. A true pleasure.
So now that the piece is done, engraved and sent, it is time to pick up the papers strewn all over my studio. It is a strange feeling to finally take down the theme, which has been hanging over my writing board since March 10th.
There is a bittersweet quality to completing a project, and a great satisfaction as well, and nothing could have better ended this journey that receiving that surprise call from Sandro.
It is very hard to be objective when you are composing or playing through your piece.
So it’s a real benefit to be able to take the listener’s seat for a few minutes and listen to Finale’s playback of the notated score.
It’s true that the playback quality is not very good, but it’s enough for me to get a sense of how the architecture of the piece is working: the arc of the piece, the flow from one section to the next, the development of ideas, that sort of thing.
But is it cheating? I used to think so, but I have since realized a simple truth:
What seems good in your imagination may not be quite as exciting out in the real world.
Anyone knows this to be true, but simple things like this tend to get obscured when you are composing in the shadow of Mozart and Beethoven.
But now I know better.
After all, it’s a lot like how musicals do workshops to fine-tune the piece, or how screenplays get altered in the editing room.
And, who knows, if Bruckner had had MIDI playback, perhaps we would have only one version of his symphonies!
But that doesn’t mean it is finished, because it definitely is not. I have the skeleton of the piece in place, and I just need to fill it out.
Here’s an example.
This shows an idea for a line where I knew how everything else was supposed to go around it, so I didn’t stop to write out all the details, choosing instead to keep on writing the main line.
If I had taken the time to fill out every detail of note, chord, counterpoint, voice-leading etc… then I would have surely lost my flow of ideas.
This is an extreme example, though. Most of the piece is much completely fleshed out than that. Filled out enough that I am ready to begin engraving.
I like to start engraving at this stage because it is really exciting and motivating to see the piece start to take on its final, engraved look.
But I also start engraving now because it breaks up the work a bit: I fill out a page or two of the piece with paper and pencil at the piano, and then move to the computer to engrave them. Then back to the piano and so on.
It keeps it more varied and thus more interesting.
And because it is done digitally, once the piece is engraved I will still be able to make all kinds of changes, additions, deletions and whatever else needs to be done to get this piece as a fit as a fiddle.