BEEEE NAKED!
27/11/13 09:47
Well, in the figurative sense...
Revelation: I’ve been blessed to have several readings/recordings/performances by outstanding, top-end university ensembles. Now, one of the either fantastically lovely or horribly frustrating (depending on your perspective) tidbits of a composer’s life lies in performers’ interpretations, which often result in your music not quite sounding like it’s angelic in-your-head version. I prefer the fantastically lovely perspective, particularly when working with dedicated, truly music-loving performers because that interpretation opens up new avenues of musical expression.
However, as I’m developing the ability to communicate more evocatively and expressively, I found myself composing a piece with an inspiration so personal that I simply could not share its motivation with the ensemble. This was a MASSIVE childish mistake. As I wracked my brain for how to communicate its feeling (both physically and musically), I grew more and more frustrated, and the ensemble...well...let’s just say I’m grateful no one acted on any Poe-esque tendencies. The performance went well enough and I was reasonably pleased, but for weeks the solution to my problem eluded me.
Until...
I’ve had the great fortune to take part in a conducting studio this Fall. Now, it is no surprise to any musician that conductors are at their very best when utterly vulnerable - physically and emotionally completely available. Completely. That’s an incredibly tall order. Imagine climbing up before of a crowd of peers, friends, enemies - all with their eyes utterly drilling into your corneas. You must lead them. You must physicalize the music. You must initiate 1,000 moments of musical intimacy. And - YOU. MAY. NOT. MESS. UP. Utterly terrifying. I don’t know how they do it. But performers beg for that connection. Need it like air.
Now when saying exactly that to conductors, it hit me how hypocritical I am. I, as a composer, don’t do this. Though perhaps not so obviously, composers must bare themselves in the same manner as conductors to be successful - in program notes, in consultations with conductors, in rehearsals. We ask that conductors and performers put their whole minds and hearts and bodies into our music. We must do no less.
A few days past, I finally let go, and was completely vulnerable. And it happened - one of those beautiful, utterly musical moments I’ve yearned for since I began this journey. The conductor is a genius and the performers are the university’s best, and they deserve the credit.
But I finally let myself be part of it. Finally.
Revelation: I’ve been blessed to have several readings/recordings/performances by outstanding, top-end university ensembles. Now, one of the either fantastically lovely or horribly frustrating (depending on your perspective) tidbits of a composer’s life lies in performers’ interpretations, which often result in your music not quite sounding like it’s angelic in-your-head version. I prefer the fantastically lovely perspective, particularly when working with dedicated, truly music-loving performers because that interpretation opens up new avenues of musical expression.
However, as I’m developing the ability to communicate more evocatively and expressively, I found myself composing a piece with an inspiration so personal that I simply could not share its motivation with the ensemble. This was a MASSIVE childish mistake. As I wracked my brain for how to communicate its feeling (both physically and musically), I grew more and more frustrated, and the ensemble...well...let’s just say I’m grateful no one acted on any Poe-esque tendencies. The performance went well enough and I was reasonably pleased, but for weeks the solution to my problem eluded me.
Until...
I’ve had the great fortune to take part in a conducting studio this Fall. Now, it is no surprise to any musician that conductors are at their very best when utterly vulnerable - physically and emotionally completely available. Completely. That’s an incredibly tall order. Imagine climbing up before of a crowd of peers, friends, enemies - all with their eyes utterly drilling into your corneas. You must lead them. You must physicalize the music. You must initiate 1,000 moments of musical intimacy. And - YOU. MAY. NOT. MESS. UP. Utterly terrifying. I don’t know how they do it. But performers beg for that connection. Need it like air.
Now when saying exactly that to conductors, it hit me how hypocritical I am. I, as a composer, don’t do this. Though perhaps not so obviously, composers must bare themselves in the same manner as conductors to be successful - in program notes, in consultations with conductors, in rehearsals. We ask that conductors and performers put their whole minds and hearts and bodies into our music. We must do no less.
A few days past, I finally let go, and was completely vulnerable. And it happened - one of those beautiful, utterly musical moments I’ve yearned for since I began this journey. The conductor is a genius and the performers are the university’s best, and they deserve the credit.
But I finally let myself be part of it. Finally.
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