Category Archives: New works

Three new arrangements: at least a moment

Today has to have been the most productive single day I’ve had in ages.

This afternoon, I finished work on the redesign of Darien Shulman’s website, darienshulman.com, which has been in the works for a few months. The design process for this site was rather different from that of other sites I’ve designed, and was informed by the ways that Chet Biscardi and I work together on updates for his site. When Chet needs updates done to his site, we go through the changes together – Chet at his computer, me at my laptop on the other side of the room. It makes for greater accuracy in whatever edits are made, and is generally a lot more fun (though also incredibly draining since we tend to work for 6 or so hours in a row!). So, once I reached a certain point in the design process, Darien and I began sitting down in the same room and working through details. I think it’s a really great way to work, and makes for an incredibly personalized site, which is something that I really aim for, and that I think sets me apart from many web designers out there.

After we launched Darien’s site and worked out the remaining kinks, I went on to create three (count ‘em, three!) new arrangements of at least a moment: for flute and piano; alto flute and piano; and alto flute and harp. This, hot on the heels of the paraphrase of "One Train May Hide Another", Best at dawn, for Marc Peloquin (which still requires some minor revisions in the score layout).

I strongly doubt that I’ll be doing an arrangement for flute and harp, however nicely that might round out the set. The flute version requires that I transpose the entire score up a minor third (as opposed to the alto flute versions, which merely (yet annoyingly) require that the alto flute line be transposed up a fourth), and, as fun as it was making sure of the harp pedalings for the original song cycle, I don’t feel much in the mood to tackle such a problem again – especially in a setting not involving actual composing, but just score editing. However, if anyone out there in Interwebs-land finds themselves hankerin’ for such a work to perform or record, I could be convinced to make the effort.

Regardless, if anyone is looking for a new piece for flute or alto flute: I’ve got three!

Best at dawn?

The new piano piece is essentially finished at this point. All that remains is to make some minor engraving revisions based on feedback I’ll be getting later this week from Marc Peloquin, who will be premiering it on March 9 — and to settle on a title.

I’ve been expecting to title the piece “Best at dawn”, which is a reference to the first song in the Koch cycle. However, I ended up arranging only the third song instead of the entire cycle, as I’d originally planned; so now, the reference isn’t quite as appropriate. At least in my mind.

I’ve spent some time today reading through “One Train May Hide Another”, searching for a phrase that I think suits the piece well. I’d like to avoid using the title of the song/poem to minimize confusion between the song and the piano piece, since confusion there will be aplenty once I’ve finished the version(s) for alto flute. (At the very least, I’m arranging it for alto flute & harp and alto flute & piano, though I’m also considering an additional arrangement/transposition for “regular” flute and piano. (I suspect that a transposition for flute and harp might be too much of a headache in terms of harp pedaling!))

Maybe I’m being silly by wanting to keep the poetic reference specific to the song that spawned this paraphrase.

The thing that made me reconsider my choice of title was a realization I had while sitting down to write the program note – certain musical and formal elements achieve greater prominence in the solo piano setting: the train-like nature of the piece, with different sections strung along like train cars; the bookended beginning and end of the piece, similar to the engine at either end of a train; and the pedal point/ostinato sounding reminiscent of a railroad crossing bell.

Of course, regardless of the title, the program note will obviously refer to the original song/poem, as well as these elements, so my bases are quite amply covered. We are not inside a bottle (vacuum), thank goodness! And it’s not as though the listener will be missing anything earth-shattering if they don’t know all these niggling (for niggling they are!) details.

Best at dawn it is, then!

Looking Back and Looking Forward

2009 turned out to be a particularly slow composing year for any number of reasons. Last year I finished the final quarter of “Permanently” from at least a moment; wrote one choral work and four short songs; and started – but didn’t finish – a short work for orchestra.

One reason for my lack of significant output turned out to be a little surprising – I didn’t have a teacher anymore! I’ve always been quite a self-starter, so I was a little surprised to realize that one reason why I wasn’t churning out music was that no one was looking over my shoulder, and I didn’t have to have a certain amount written each week for someone else to look at. I’ve temporarily changed that state of affairs – this past weekend, I started private study with Chester Biscardi, a web client and good friend (also the Director of the Music Program at Sarah Lawrence College). We’ve decided to use the orchestra piece I started in Ucross as a jumping-off point. I’m glad to be finishing the work finally, and to be working with Chet because he’s a fantastic composer – and by all reports a great teacher, as well!

While working on the orchestra piece (still as yet untitled!), I’ll also be working on a paraphrase of at least a moment for solo piano. Marc Peloquin and I have been putting together the next Tobenski-Algera Concert lately, and, while I didn’t plan on having one of my own works on the progrm for once, Marc insisted that I write a new piece for him to help balance the program. So, rather than wrack my brains for new material under such a tight deadline (the concert is March 9!), I’ve decided to rework the Koch cycle – shorten it considerably, and fold the vocal line into the piano. I consider it a “paraphrase” – a la DDT’s Acrostic Paraphrase, but I’m making the work shorter rather than three times the original length! I’ve made the bulk of the cuts already, so my next task is to start folding the vocal line into the piano part. I’ve been aching for a premiere of the cycle, so this performance will be a bit of a palliative.

In keeping with the arrangement kick…. Last year, I showed Chet the finished score of at least a moment – or, rather, emailed him the PDF of the score with MP3s of the MIDI playback from Sibelius. Since I loathe the voice sample used in Sibelius’s Kontakt Player, I always use flute instead. After listening to the MP3s and looking at the score, Chet made the comment that the vocal line stands so well on its own that I could easily pull out the text and use it as a flute piece. So, I shall! The only decision that remains to be made before I jump in with the Delete button is whether to transpose it or not. As it stands, the piece goes a minor third too low for a standard flute (the piece bottoms out at A3), though it’s ideal for an alto flute. So I have to decide whether to leave it as is and say it’s for alto flute, or bump it up a minor third. Or I could do a version of both!

Further on the compositional horizon – past the completion of several other works that have been in my compositional queue for far too long (completing the piccolo trumpet & string quartet piece for David Glukh; writing a duo for violin & piano for Roger Zahab) – I’ve been thinking quite a lot on a musical subject that I’ve frequently been told I should pursue: opera. Probably the main impetus for my starting to think seriously in this vein (I’ve frequently, and idly, thought about writing opera throughout the years, and have several ideas for larger-scale projects that I won’t tackle for a little while) is the fact that I’ve been lucky enough to go to the Met several times in the past few months: I saw Janacek’s From the House of the Dead (liked the music, hated the production) and Strauss’s Elektra (wonderful) and Ariadne auf Naxos (absolutely divine). I’ve started grabbing recordings of operas where I can find them and putting them on my iPod to listen to at work. (Recently heard Der Rosenkavalier for the first time and was absolutely transported!)

So I’ve been thinking about how I would go about writing an opera – what a good starting point would be. I may start with an existing short play, since that would probably be the simplest in terms of getting started and working on my own. I’ve definitely got my eyes peeled for a potential librettist, though. There are a few ideas bouncing around in my skull at the moment that have got me excited (not so much plot ideas, as structure and general concept), and I’d like to pitch them to a librettist. That is, if I can find one! I suspect that I could make one of my large-scale ideas happen fairly easily (and, frankly, I need to do it quickly if it’s going to happen!), but I’d like to have a chamber opera or two under my belt first. More details as things progress.

This sudden burst of compositional thought and action ties in closely with the second reason for my dearth of output last year. I spent all but a month and a half of 2009 unemployed (2009 didn’t manage to be the Year of Buying DVDs – instead it was the Year of Falling Behind on Rent!), which left me with a lot of free time. By all rights, I should have been churning out new works right and left! The problem, though, was that I had too much free time, and I fell into a horrible habit of intense procrastination. I would wake up late every day (between 10:30 and noon), putter around the apartment for a while, then settle in front of the computer for the rest of the day – frittering away the hours with blogs, silly internet videos, and watching movies and TV shows on Netflix. Needless to say, there was a bit of honest-to-goodness depression involved here, which also stemmed from the fact of my unemployment. I found that when I don’t have a draw on my time, my time tends to become somewhat valueless, and therefore meaningless. A day job – the eternal enemy – is actually a necessity at the moment. And for more than just paying the bills!

I recently started a new day job – some temp work, which allows me the flexibility to function as a musician – and the result is that I can now both pay the bills and feel as though I want to write again!

Now that I’ve discovered two creative danger zones for me, I can address the issues and fix them.

Hopefully 2010 will be a Year of Writing a Lot of Music. 2009 was a let-down in a lot of ways. Compositionally, I wrote far too little. Financially, I was always anxious and falling behind. Economically in general, things just sucked. And politically, the year was a little disappointing – although some good things were accomplished, those accomplishments went largely unnoticed amid the noise of Balloon Boy; the hyped-up, insane expectations of The First 100 Days; the utter absurdity of The Second 100 Days (as though we hadn’t head enough talking heads talking about other talking heads’ evaluations of etc); etc. But with the success of the first new T-A Concert, and the start of a new day job, I’m feeling energized and positive about this year.

Two new songs

I’ve spent some time over the past few days writing two new songs – part of a group of birthday songs for friends. The 8 planned super-short songs are, of course, a part of the Song Album Project (I haven’t forgotten about it!), but will be available in the Tobenski Music Press store as soon as they’re written.

So far, I’ve written songs for my friends Danny Stone and Joel Conarroe (the latter of whom is having a big birthday bash tonight on the East Side), who turned, respectively, 30 and 75. For Danny, I wrote the 1&12frac; minute “Twilight”, on the short poem of the same name by Walt Whitman. And for Joel’s one-minute song, I used another short Whitman poem, “To a Western Boy”.

Six more to go!

Ucross: Day 9

The remainder of last week was quite productive. I put off the orchestra piece to finish "Take All My Loves", mostly because I was feeling a little closer to the latter since I’d been working on it longer. Plus, I felt as though I should finish it sooner rather than later. So, I plugged away during the week, and managed to get close.

Friday evening, two of the residents gave readings in a dance studio in Sheridan. Collier Nogues read some of her poetry, and Kenneth Lin presented an early draft of his latest play, read by Collier and three Sheridan natives (one of whom is also a current resident in filmmaking). Both were quite fantastic. They’re clearly very talented writers, and their readings (as they should) made me want to read more of their work.

After the readings, we had a night on the town, and met some colorful characters, indeed. One particularly drunk middle-aged fellow at the Mint Bar decided that one of the female residents was his girlfriend, and offerent to step outside with her "boyfriend" when he arrived. He was too far gone to realize that she had implied that I was her "boyfriend" in order to avoid his advances. Fortunately, she managed to politely escape when he turned away to guzzle more beer. And apparently (so I was told later in the weekend back at the Foundation), some local young homophobes were doing their best to get my attention with flamboyant, fey gestures. Again, fortunately, I was too engrossed in conversation with another of the residents to take notice. I don’t know what’s wrong that sort of person. Scum of the earth, though. That much I’m sure of.

On Saturday, I was given a broader tour of the area by Darien’s friend’s cousin and his wife, who we met at a wedding just a few weeks ago in Boston. Small world! We had some delicious meals around town, and visited a few really interesting museums: the Bradford Brinton Memorial & Museum and the Don King Saddle Museum.

In keeping with my personal rule of not working on weekends or after 5 o’clock at colonies, I spent all of Sunday relaxing. I went nowhere. I did nothing. I puttered on the internets, and ate leftovers from the week’s delicious meals. Then I went to bed.

Yesterday was an odd feeling sort of day. The Foundation was half-open – meals were prepared as usual, but the office wasn’t open – so I took that as my cue to only half work. I slept in and knocked off early, but also managed to finish "Take All My Loves": I set the last three lines of the poem and finished most of the engraving. All that remains to be done is to let it set for a week before I consider revisions, and to put in dynamics (which I have set in my mind, but always save until the very end).

And today: back to the usual grind. I set aside the orchestral movement that I started last week (I’m not convinced of it yet, and become less so as days go by – it seems destined for the scrap heap), and began sketching another. The opening of the movement came to me in a flash of inspiration as I stood on Labrador Beach this morning. I ran back to the studio to get it all down on paper before I’d lost it. Only tomorrow will tell if it’s any good.

And here are some deer standing in the field and stream near my studio that I photographed today. Stupid creatures, but pretty.

It’s all I have to bring to-day

This afternoon I added a new song to the Tobenski Press store: “It’s all I have to bring” for voice and piano, composed for Neri Shulman’s 60th birthday in 2007. The song, on the Emily Dickinson poem, clocks in at just under a minute – a cute little gem.

The engraved Sibelius file has been sitting on my hard drive for some time, now (over two years!), and sitting with my laptop on a rainy day in Montauk seemed to be the perfect time to post this little musical offering. I made a cover page and a very few minor revisions to the score, and here it is!

Here’s what my diary has to say about the writing of the song: “Ran back to Astoria in the morning and wrote Neri’s song. Decided on an Emily Dickinson poem – ‘It’s all I have to bring to-day’ – and wrote the song in around a half hour. Seventeen bars. It’s catchy and pretty!” There’s something about the pieces that you shake out of your sleeve – they have the real spark of life, and an easy grace that can’t be faked.

Enjoy!

Playing catch-up

I’ve been a bad boy lately, and have been neglecting my bloggerly duties. This has mostly been due to the wrapping up of my academic career at CCNY. Last Monday, I passed the Oral Examination in music analysis, concluding my academic responsibilities at the school. And two weeks prior, I submitted my thesis (at least a moment). Today is, in fact, the Commencement Ceremony, which I happily forewent in favor of sitting home and getting some work done (and not paying nearly $100 for the cap/gown/sash/etc that I’ll only wear once, then stick in a closet somewhere and never look at again).

So after two (kinda long) years, I have a Master of Arts in Music. Now I can… do… stuff…. Ok, I knew going into it that it was another piece of paper for my mother to put in the safe where she keeps all the important family things. It allowed me to study with David, which was my primary goal (the remainder, I mostly saw as jumping through hoops). And it’s a stepping stone to the doctorate, which I intend to do in about five or six years. I’m in no hurry to start – I’m all schooled out for the time being. But the doctorate will allow me to teach when I’m good and ready (I’m thinking my mid-40s) so that I can have some kind of pension in my old age. Such a practical plan!

Now that I’m done, I can start to concentrate again on things that fell by the wayside during the past two years, namely the Tobenski-Algera Concerts. It’s now been over a year since the last T-A concert, and I’m none too happy about that fact. We’ve had a few abortive attempts at relaunching the Series, but any number of random obstacles got in the way: scheduling conflicts with performers, difficulties getting commissioned composers to actually write the pieces that were commissioned (another rant for another day!), and (not least) the “school mentality” I got into that slowed certain areas of my productivity/motivation to a crawl. But we’re currently planning a NYC Gay Pride Week concert as a follow-up to our 2007 concert, which was such a success. More details on that as everything coalesces.

Plus, there’s another art song concert in the works for the early fall, and a concert with the ensemble Percussia.

I can also start applying to colonies for times other than the Summer, when it’s nearly impossible to get in. I love art colonies, so it’s been painful not having the ability to go when I’d like to. Or, really, at all, since everybody and their brother applies for the summer sessions when nobody’s teaching, leaving no room for young’uns like me.

Performance-wise, I premiered Casey Hale’s “Todesfuge” on May 12 with pianist Mia Elezovic at the CUNY Graduate Center’s Elebash Hall. It was a fun performance, and I look forward to the opportunity to sing it again.

I also sang an orchestrated version of “Permanently” from at least a moment for the CCNY Musicians Accord readings. The orchestration was a little difficult to get started, I’ll admit. I found it incredibly difficult to distance myself from my initial harpistic conception of the piece. When I brought in a first draft to David, he spent the majority of that lesson more than a little angry at my horrible orchestration (though an hour later he was praising my orchestration of a MacDowell piano piece, proving my point that the problem was a matter of personal distance from the original piece). The final result, though, was quite nice: some great shifts in color, and good use of the tutti ensemble.

And compositionally, I’ve finished the first and second movements of the Glukh piece. End-of-semester business forced me to put the piece aside for a few weeks, so I’m picking it back up next week. I completely rethought the Fanfare movement, and the music just exploded out of me. I originally wanted a full-ensemble fanfare, but got mired in canonic silliness that killed the movement. So, I took a step back and noticed that I hadn’t used the violins at all in the Chorale Trio preceding the Fanfare. Why not write a fanfare for the two violins? It’s a fresh sound, and completely unexpected, as far as fanfares go! The thought that completely freed me up, though, was about timing – I had originally wanted each movement to be roughly 3 minutes. So, why not cut it down to one? A one-minute fanfare for two violins. Perfect! In a matter of days, I had finished the first draft of the movement, and I finished the revisions within a week. Now, I’m waiting to start the Aria, which will be for the full ensemble.

I’ll wrap up with a tiny rant. Yesterday, I got back my materials from one of the competitions I entered this Spring (none of which I even managed to place in, by the way). Now, I don’t put the competitions’ return addresses on my SASEs, so I’m not entirely sure which competition these materials were from, but based on the piece I sent, and the fact that the score was clearly an ‘anonymous submission’, I have a pretty darned good idea which competition this was from. I won’t name names, but I will say that it wasn’t one of the big ones. Now, I’ve heard a lot of composer friends complain endlessly about the way that competitions treat applicants’ materials. (Poorly.) And I’ve had more than one score come back bent, scuffed, or with stains that weren’t there when I mailed it off to be judged. But never before have I had part of my application disappear. I mailed off a score and a CD. The CD, I put in a nice little jewel case to keep it from getting scratched or broken en route. I got back the score and the CD, but not the jewel case. Did the jewel case get lost? Broken? Accidentally put in with someone else’s application? Or just stolen? Regardless, I don’t care. The fact that the jewel case was missing shows a real disregard for applicants’ materials. I paid to have that anonymous score printed and bound, I bought the blank CDs, CD labels, and jewel cases, spent around $10 in round-trip postage, and paid an entry fee for this competition. Not to mention the time I spent considering my application, compiling all of the materials, and standing in line forever at the post office to get the application mailed by the postmark deadline. I think I deserve to get all of my materials back in the same condition that I sent them in. If the postal service damages my materials en route, that’s between me and them, but when a piece of my application (specifically, the only piece I can even think of reusing, since an anonymous score is worthless and [I think] a complete waste of my money) doesn’t even make it into the return envelope that I provided, there’s a real problem. Rant over.

Two new works

I’m currently embroiled in two new works: a 15-minute piece for piccolo trumpet and string quartet, and a short cycle for soprano and piano.

The piccolo trumpet and string quartet, commissioned by David Glukh, is as yet untitled, but has settled around the extra-musical idea of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. I started writing the piece nearly a month ago, opening with a fanfare, but I quickly got stuck. I couldn’t make the fanfare ‘right’, so I sat on it for a week or so. When I brought it in for a lesson, DDT made an off-hand remark about a choral piece of mine that he’d heard, asking why couldn’t I make this piece more like the choral one. My brain immediately took hold of the idea and ran with it. In an hour, I had restructured my plan for the piece – rather than starting with a Fanfare, why not start with a Chorale? Then have the Fanfare come out of the end of the Chorale. So, the piece is now structured:

1. Chorale Trio (Prayer to Prospero)
2. Fanfare
3. Aria
4. Chorale
5. Theme & Variations

The Chorale Trio is for the piccolo trumpet, viola, and cello only. It’s a three-voice chorale, meditating on the idea of Prospero-as-god, a theme explored in Dan Simmons’ novels Ilium and Olympos. So, the piece is a little closer in inspiration to Dan Simmons than it is to Shakespeare. (Does that make the second movement Fanfare for the Little Green Man? Oh, the temptation….) I’ve scrapped the Fanfare that I started with, and am in the middle of rethinking my approach to it.

The song cycle is set to be premiered the first weekend of June (I’d better hurry!) during the Virginia Woolf Conference at the Lincoln Center campus of Fordham University. The cycle’s texts are by Idris Anderson, who I collaborated with on Starfish at Pescadero in 2007, and uses the same title as Idris’ set of poems: The Long Barn. These are three meditations on the diaries and correspondence of Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West. The first poem I’ve divided up into 5 very, very, very short songs, each beginning with a spoken phrase (used in Idris’ poetry) from VW’s writings.

1a. …and there I lay in Swansdown and recovered
1b. My dearest donkey West
1c. You my Dark my Dusky Beauty
1d. Honey, dearest, for whom I would do anything
1e. Dearest Kentish Creature
2. What we do today
3. Vita’s Sonnet

Last Friday afternoon, after in the morning having come up with a wonderful opening to picc-tpt/str 4tet Fanfare in the morning and then having promptly forgotten it, I went for a walk down Riverside Drive to relieve some of the stress of having to write so much so quickly, and also to have left my apartment at least once before dark, I managed in about 20 minutes (I hadn’t even reached the Grant Memorial, walking from my apartment in the 140s) to write the entire first songlet. By the time I reached 110th St, I had written 1a, and mapped out 1b, 1c, and 1d.

This afternoon I sat down again and managed to hammer out all of 1b, and start in on 1c before calling it a day. Tomorrow will be spent engraving 1a and 1b. I’m hoping by Monday to have 1c and maybe 1d written.

More beginnings

This week marks the beginning of several new things in my life:

1) Tomorrow is the first day of my last semester of classes at CCNY. I’m particularly excited to be finishing up my degree, for any number of reasons. One of the particularly nice things about this semester is that it’s an “All David” semester – I have my weekly composition lesson with David Del Tredici, a weekly orchestration course with David, and an independent study with David.

2) I’m starting work on a new piece: Long Barn, a set of three songs on poetry by Idris Anderson. This is the other of my “exciting announcements”, because the songs will be premiered in June as part of the 2009 Virginia Woolf conference at Fordham University near Lincoln Center. I’ve begun living with the poetry and will probably start putting pencil to paper in the next two weeks.

3) My independent study with David is the beginning of a larger project that I’ll be talking about a lot more in the coming weeks. For now, suffice it to say that our sessions will involve lots of interviews and me riffling through David’s papers. The project will spawn a new series of posts here (which will hopefully be a little more regular than my current posting schedule!), along with some video, audio, and possibly photographic materials.

Beyond this week….

Kaity Volpe and I will be starting back into our photo project very soon, which will certainly spill over into the independent study project.

I’m hoping to finally relaunch the Tobenski-Algera Concerts in the next two months, even though I said we’d have a concert back in December. We’ve encountered stumbling block after stumbling block these past few months, and it’s been beyond maddening. Finding a suitable performance space for the relaunch has been difficult, though I think we may have finally solved that issue. Now we have to deal with scheduling….

And it’s application season! Nearly every award and artist colony has applications due in the next few months, so I’ll be spending hours upon hours filling out applications and spending insane amounts of money printing and binding “pseudonymous” and “anonymous” copies of my scores. I’m sure I’ll be writing about the process soon enough.

New choral work

I spent about a half hour this morning on the phone with the Director of Choral Activities at Illinois State University discussing a new commission.

There aren’t a lot of details yet, but it’ll be a multi-movement choral work, possibly integrating an obbligato instrument or a small instrumental ensemble. I’m currently exploring some possibilities for texts that I think would be appropriate; one sequence of poems in particular.

This is one of my two promised “exciting announcements” – Dr. Carlson and I have been throwing around ideas on extended works for over a year, now, and we’re finally starting to make it happen. I’m really looking forward to starting the project – it’s always a joy to team up with my alma mater on new works!

I haven’t written any choral music in about 3 or 4 years, and I’ve really grown and evolved as a composer since then, so this will be a great opportunity to revisit the genre that was once at the center of my compositional endeavors, and which really sparked my interest in the marriage of words and music. Almost all of my choral works were written for ISU choirs. I wrote mostly for the Madrigal Singers – at least one new piece per year – though I also composed two shortish works for the Concert Choir and one (which lies unperformed in the bottom of a box somewhere) for the Women’s Choir. (I’m not terribly upset about the latter. It was a reasonably good piece, but wouldn’t be worth the trouble of securing the rights for the text, unfortunately. I make a point of getting the rights well in advance of writing a piece, but…I was young and stupid. Ironically, the lack of performance had nothing to do with the rights.)

Choral music really shaped the way I view meter. So much choral music is written in straight-ahead four- or three-quarter time, but the average Midwestern choir takes those boring, square measures and messes with the pulse in a really beautiful way. Beats are expanded or contracted wildly – yet organically – to create a living, breathing musical line. Where was once a simple, regular pulse is suddenly an exhilarating rush forward, or a floating, liquid cessation of time. No two beats are exactly the same.

What comes so naturally to these choirs and their directors is surprisingly complex when captured on the page, which is what I did. 4/4 becomes an asymetric 9/8: 1-2–1-2–1-2-3–1-2. Or 11/8: 1-2-3–1-2–1-2-3–1-2-3. Words otherwise lost in a steady pulse take on new meaning and weight. A beat or a half-beat is dropped in to lend emphasis to the high point of the phrase, or dropped out to avoid emphasis on an unimportant syllable. An extra beat of rest is dropped in at the ends of certain phrases for the sake of taking a breath. Why not just leave out the beat and put in a little breath mark? To remove the guesswork: “Yes, breathe here.” Sure, most choirs will drop in that extra beat anyway, but why run the risk of some choir clipping off the end of the phrase in order to maintain the pulse?

All of this, of course, made its way into my instrumental writing. Meters shift just as constantly in my chamber works as in my vocal music; portions of beats are dropped in and out just as often. But everything sings.

I’m really looking forward to flexing my choral muscles again. I’ll post new developments here as they happen.