My training in composition

What was my training as a composer? I've tended to think that it was pretty traditional (I mean, traditional for the time). Was that true? Actually, no. Was I self taught? In some ways, yes.

The most traditional academic part of my training was as an undergraduate at Duke, where I studied theory, history, piano; but with only a semester of orchestration and two semesters of conducting. I really don't remember if I formally studied composition with Iain Hamilton. Upon reflection, I think that the answer is no. I was on my own, and completed a couple of pieces as an undergraduate, a piano solo work and a piece for brass quintet, inspired by Stockhausen's Momente.

Instead of pursuing the Ivy League (Yale, Columbia, Princeton -- post-Webern) or the Conservatory (Eastman, Juilliard -- more traditional craft-oriented) paths, I went to CalArts, then in its second year of existence. California… that was a different experience. Interestingly, my composition teacher was Mel Powell, from Yale and a member of the Ivy League school. I rarely had lessons. Mel was too involved as Dean of the School of Music in organizational issues. I have great respect for him, but remember mostly his classes in analyzing Webern works. I do remember hearing for the first time music of Steve Reich, Terry Riley and Phillip Glass at CalArts. "California" composers Harold Budd and Jim Tenney were also on the faculty, but I didn't formally work with them. In fact, I didn't formally work with anyone -- just absorbed a lot. Students were pretty much on our own. It was tough for the undergrads, but having gained the basics in theory, piano, etc. it was much easier for me as a grad student, especially as I was fairly self-directed. I have always felt that, at its heart, education is about growth, exploration and learning, not about preparation for a career.

Then SUNY at Buffalo. Mel was evidently a friend of Morton Feldman, one of the ultimate non-academic composers. Morty had just been named Edgard Varese professor at SUNY. The piece that got me into SUNY, I believe, was what one might term a "minimalist" piano piece - it was a study in changes of register and density, based on a simple scale and chord set. Morty was what I consider my only real teacher. What I learned from him:

listen, and trust your ear. (The "urgency of now." I'm not sure where that phrase comes from, but it is on my mind this morning.) One of the very profound things I remember him saying about composition: "choose your poison."

I had lessons at his apartment. My strongest memory is of him hunched over the piano (his eyesight was very poor), looking at the music paper in front of him, playing and listening intently to chords and single notes at the piano. He lived in the world of each piece as it unfolded. As he completed a page of score he would tape it to a bedroom wall, in sequence with the previously completed pages, so that he so he could stand and "walk through" the piece, looking at it closely, to see it unfolding. His trust in himself was terrific. As he completed composing a page of music he would immediately copy it (in ink and on vellum). Actually, I now do somewhat the same in many works. When I trust what I have done, which is usually pretty quickly, I begin "copying" it. Today that means putting it into my notation software. And yes, I still have my ink pens and black ink, even many pages of blank vellum that I will probably never use (never say never).

I have never belonged to any "school" of composition. There are so many these days. In our world it is almost impossible to escape the multiplicity of styles and approaches. Yes, I was influenced by Morty's style for awhile; my own style evolved, though I think that my works still reflect his intuitive approach, of using the ear. It may be hard to pin down my "style" if you listen to more than one of my works, or even more than one movement of a given work. There might appear to be different styles being used in the same work. But it is always a question of my intent, my inspiration, and using what I need in order to accomplish my intent at a given moment. The variety in my works displays different aspects of my sensibility, identity and experience.

If one asked, I would say that these are the composers who have made the greatest impression on me:

Stravinsky

Debussy

Schoenberg

Feldman

Hildegard von Bingen

Beethoven

And now Schubert

There are of course many more.

Watching the stars move

While lying on my side in bed at night I can see out of the top half of one of our bedroom windows. It faces the northeast. Last night at 2:10 am I noticed two bright stars, on above the other (not quite directly above, but a little to the right), about (what appeared to my eyes) 3/4 inch apart, if I held my fingers up to it about three inches from my eyes. A few minutes later a third fainter star appeared from the top of the left side of the window. A beautiful triangle.

I watched the star triangle move, upwards and to the right, slowly. A slow, quiet drama. I couldn't go back to sleep for watching it, visually trying to calculate the exact angle the triangle was moving. At 2:59 the upper right star of the triangle finally disappeared behind the top of the window frame. An impressive disappearance, and satisfying to observe. The triangle was gone.

Somewhat later I returned to sleep.