November 28, 2020,
I'm sure the sentiments I feel for the times are the same for millions of others right now, so I feel there's no need to rehash them. Suffice it to say, composing for me has, and continues to be, an act of healing. None of these works were commissioned by others, but were activities meant to keep my head above the turbulent emotional waters of the times. I'm actually quite shocked that they've come to be, as weird and presumptuous it is to say, but there you have it.
These works were composed in bed, under trees, on walks, on buses, during spares at school (I'm a supply teacher, currently). I remember the first tune materializing on the day I returned, to Chapters (a book store), a Dungeons & Dragon's 5th Edition Manual that I didn't need. The last tune tumbled out on the first snowfall of November.
While writing, I was constantly reminded of so many things, so many people, affected by Covid-19. But, in a strange counterbalance, I was pensive regarding the state of Ludwig van Beethoven's--the great archetypal composer--two hundred and fiftieth anniversary occurring this year, with so many festivities now put on hold indefinitely. His was the first music I experienced as a child, and he continues to be an idol and source of inspiration. Less in the sense of an, "Oh my Gosh he's the best that ever was!" but like Shakespeare, whose inventions themselves are omnipotent in their Protean, transformative, re-contexual way, his music spreads before a multitude of fresh lenses and modern opinions.
Now let me get this off my chest. As a "composer of contemporary classical music," Beethoven's legacy is complicated. I include myself among those who say, "Why must we celebrate Beethoven again and again when there's so much else out there?" I totally agree. That being said, I love Beethoven. I love him so much that my first music book as a kid was Sigmund Spaeth's The Symphonies and How to Recognize Them, where, in a wholesome mid-century tone of voice, the author added snappy and cute lyrics to each of Beethoven's symphonic melodies--"I am your Fate! Let me come in!" for example--and I remember writing out, by hand, those melodies and trying them out on the piano. Beethoven was my show-and-tell in little school. Growing up, I developed Type 1 Diabetes, and the struggles involved in managing that monkey on the back I found relatable to Beethoven's own physical ailments, especially how my concentration, mood, and such would be influenced by it. During a time of precarious princes and other aristocratic brokers, Beethoven's downright passion for liberal politics was also a huge draw for me. From both Beethoven's resilience and from his unbreakable faith in the better angels of humanity, I found a historical friend. These compositions of mine may be understood as fan letters across the aether of whens and wheres.
Back to my heart...
I genuinely wrote these pieces with my imagination hosting performances by old friends and colleagues, especially when I was a university student--what I mean by that: say, when writing for a viola part, I was thinking of old violist friends I haven't seen in years, or harpists, or trumpet-players. Every lick is a memory--ha, you can quote me on that! I'd say to myself, "I wonder what so-and-so would think of this!" I love seeing their own triumphs on social media, but I am also aware and sad for those who are struggling deeply in finding their footing right now.
I also wrote this with students in mind, especially those whose physical experiences at the conservatories and universities around the world are put on hold. I'm thinking how strange and hard it must be, yet life goes on.
What's Next?
I'm probably going to stumble over my words, but throughout this process, I've come to grips with the fact that an artist is somebody who serves what they can, and I'm reminded, after every project, the immortal lines from Richard Bach's Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the first poem I ever memorized seeing its plaque on the bathroom door as a child: "It's good to be a seeker. / But sooner or later you have to be a finder. / And then it is well to give what you have found, / A gift into the world for whoever will accept it.
I want to get these works performed. I want people to play them, just as much for me, but for themselves. What I'm trying to say is... I found solace in writing; maybe if you're looking for something new to play--modern, "neo-Romantic" repertoire--you may dig these. Maybe you'll hate them. Maybe you'll say this is absolute trite. That's fine. Go on your way and find some better music for you. Otherwise, I kindly invite you to pull up a chair and music stand, tune your instrument, turn on your printer, turn on a click-track (you can mute them and just watch the visual cues), and try them out. They're musical offerings.
Where's the Money?
The virtual readings are open to anybody who can play with heart, passion, and with the technical ability to do so. If you're a professional (performing is your main source of income), semi-professional (i.e. you have an alternative main source of income), a capable conservatory or university student, or the like, of course I want to pay you for your time with fair wages on par with Union Scale rates... once the possibility of a high-quality recording session comes, and I first have money. But first, I offer this music for you to try out on your own time and, if you like it, and want to move further ahead with it, let me know, and we'll go from there. If you know anybody with the experience of producing such endeavours, I would love to discuss future possibilities with them, especially since there's a serious Depression right now for professional musicians (every time I turn on the news and am reminded of this, it cuts out all pangs of self-doubt). If you know of any commissioning bodies who might be interested in bringing this before an existent orchestra, of course I'd love to talk. But for now, I invite you to try out the music and have fun--for lack of a better synonym--with it.
For what it's worth, I hope you enjoy these pieces either as something to listen to or as something to play, from the bottom of my heart,
Take care,
Ben
