I was not asked this question until I was 20 years old, almost 11 years into my musical career. It was January 2023, and it is one of the first questions I remember my orchestration professor, Gregory Wanamaker, asking his class at 8:00 in the morning on a bitterly cold winter day. It didn’t have to be a bare bones, super deep introspective philosophical answer. It could literally be anything. I registered for the class because I like experimenting with sound, so that’s exactly what I said. I remember talking about Phil Spector and Brian Wilson and the wall of sound they created. Although I have tacked on to my answer as you’ll later see, this is still true. I knew how I wanted music to sound, but I didn’t have the technical know-how to write it out and give it to a group . I make mention of it because it is one of the few things that draws me back in when I’m tired and need inspiration.

I like music that doesn’t try to sound like it’s hard. When I used to get called to play in all these contemporary concerts, one of the first things I noticed was that a lot of what was written was pretty needlessly hard. I’m not saying exploring new horizons or pushing the limits on instruments is a bad thing, but it wouldn’t hurt to at least know what the limits are and why they exist. Whether it’s because of the pitches, the rhythms, the time signatures, or whatever else, writing impossible music just to prove you can is a little silly. A paraphrased quote from Eastman Wind Ensemble director Mark Scatterday, music can be difficult, but it should never be hard. The late David Maslanka, one of my compositional heroes, is quoted saying “I never reject an idea because it seems too simple, or because I have already used similar ones a lot. The full power of simple ideas unfolds over many pieces, ideas such as steady-pulse repetition of an accompaniment chord, or the few notes of a melody fragment (www.davidmaslanka.com).” Listen to any of his music, and you will hear what I’m talking about. The same goes for Mahler, or Bruckner, or Strauss, or Beethoven. These cats wrote a lot of difficult music, but anyone who plays those parts can see, feel and hear the power of those lines. I like when the music speaks for itself.

I like music that has a sense of direction. I could use any number of artists to draw examples from, but for now I’ll stick with 1: Elton John. In my mind, he is the best melodist and harmonist of his time. He’s best known for his chart topping hits, but much of his underground stuff is a whole other world. There’s one I’ll point to specifically that maybe you haven’t heard of: Blue Avenue off Sleeping With the Past. This tune is so, so simple. Any middle school rock band could plunk out the chart. But the direction he gives the lyrics, and the contour he gave his melodies, is what drew me to him and his entire discography. In a 2021 interview with Pat Metheny and Rick Beato, Pat says something along the lines of the fact that every good and memorable melody is as good as the happy birthday song. Replace any note or rhythm, and the magic is lost. Elton John has this gift, as does Pat Metheny, and as did Beethoven.