Category Archives: Composing

Transition from fast to calm

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Today when I get back to the computer to what I imagine is finishing up the loose ends from yesterday, I find that what sounds like an ending can just as well be the transition to a calmer middle part. The piece is full of contrapuntal movement, and I have finally reached a resting point for all the four instruments. That is why it feels so final. But I decide that I can start a new part here, and make the piece more of an ABA form. I’m at the end of the first “A,” and I can start on “B.”

Here are a few things that I deliberately do to change the feel of the music, to make it a contrasting section. 1) I slow down the tempo from 120 to 84 beats per minute, 2) I don’t write any sixteenth notes – the fastest note so far is an eighth note, 3) I give it a pianissimo marking, the first in the piece, 4) I make the counterpoint less busy, so I only have two different rhythm shapes, and they are only a little bit different from each other, and 5) I use a lot of sequence and try to make the section predictable.

Last Saturday I had the fantastic experience of listening to the Utah Symphony playing live at Abravanel Hall in Salt Lake City. They played Prokofiev’s 2nd piano concerto and Shostakovich’s 1st symphony. Their opening piece was by John Adams, The Chairman Dances: Foxtrot for Orchestra. As I listened to the orchestra, I was thinking a lot about repetition, and how much repetition is desirable. It clearly is a delicate balance! You want the audience to feel like they have some kind of idea of what the musical theme is, and how you are developing it. You can only know the theme if there are enough iterations of it, because otherwise it comes across as introduction or variation.

So as I’m writing the beginning part of “B” in the first movement of my first string quartet, I’m trying to introduce the theme enough times that a listener can feel like the music makes sense. I’m pairing the two violins rhythmically, and I’m also pairing the viola and cello. Then I switch rhythms between the two groups, so that the leading voice is in the lower register. I’m thinking a lot about two-part harmony, which does best when the intervals are a pleasing interval, rather than doublings (doublings kind of undo the idea of harmony).

In two-part harmony, a pretty safe bet in traditional arrangements is the third or the sixth. However, I love variety, and therefore I will mix my thirds and sixths up with seconds, diminished fifths, and the occasional fourth or seventh. I try to aim for a mix of countermotion and the parts moving together (with countermotion being favored). That is how I find a two-part harmony the most interesting.

Well, I finish up my first eight measures of that section, and I know that it needs something a little different next. I’ve just ended on a pretty high chord for all the strings, which lends itself fairly well for introducing the climax. I remember learning that when you’re looking for a climax in a piece, it generally means the highest point. Playing Prokofiev’s third piano concerto (observe that this recording is not my orchestra playing it) last spring, I definitely felt it was a high point when the entire viola section was maxing out by playing the highest notes we are usually ever asked to play in concert, towards the end of the last movement (listen at about 24-26 minutes for that part where the high strings are really high and lyrical, right before the peppy contrasting part by woodwinds, piano, and strings playing in a very different style).

So when I get back to writing either later today or tomorrow, I will try and make that high section fly.

About different modes in music

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As I mentioned last time, there were gaps in the piece as I left it, and I start by writing in a second violin part, that extends past what I wrote last. Somehow, it seems to ask for a key change, at least temporarily, rather than a change of mood. So I’m ending up with a different tonal center for a little while.

Let’s talk about keys and tonal centers a little bit. I was in high school when I first learned about different modes. I found them very interesting to work with. I actually employed a few different modes in my first opera writing. I started out very traditional in a mostly Dorian B-minor, but I wrote a part for the soprano to sing in Phrygian mode, and later on, a song for the mezzosoprano in Lydian mode. This way, I could keep the key signature, but just change the tonal center, and I liked the way it turned out.

There are certain harmonies that I tend to favor. I really like four-note harmonies, which means I don’t double many notes in the string quartet. So I’ll add a sixth or a seventh or something to fill out the trichords that are so common. One of my favorite trichords is the augmented one. It’s so mysterious! I also like the diminished trichord, and you can easily make it a diminished seventh when you add the fourth note.

This is kind of hard to express in just words. If you know what I am talking about when I talk about different modes, the best way to learn more is by just experimenting. You can listen to Tavasz (It means Spring in Hungarian) by Béla Bártok. It starts with a melody with a high fourth, just like in the Lydian mode. Maybe this is one reason his music resonates so much with me. The modes are different enough from the common practice era to make me sharpen my ear, but still really beautiful.

I just keep writing more notes on the string quartet, and suddenly I write a cello line that sounds like it could be the ending of a movement. What in the world? I thought the piece would be longer. The movement might be nearly done but my brain is spent. I’ll get back to it tomorrow and see what happens. The piece is close to five minutes of peppy music, and maybe the contrast I was looking for will just appear in the second movement. I think I’ll go for a slow, sweet style.

Adding more notes

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It’s been a busy week and I feel like it’s hard to find any long stretches of work on my string quartet. But I’m still happy with being able to write in some more notes today. It’s gaping a little for a second violin part, but I did write some notes for each instrument, and all those holes make it easy to know where to start next time!

I had this phrase that I let cascade from the cello, to the viola, to the second violin, to the first violin. But it wasn’t coming through enough, so I decided to add in doublings until they all play unison.

As I’m listening through the music I’ve written so far, I’m thinking that there are probably only a few changes I’ll make to the material when I’m editing it. One note sounds a little out of place, so I’ll change it from a G to an A, probably. I know it’s short on dynamics too, so I’ll add in more of that when I have a moment.

I’m at about four minutes now, and I’m thinking that if I want to have a middle, contrasting section, it should come just about now. I’ll have to think about what I want it to sound like.

Rejection

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I know that many successful writers and other kinds of professions often get many rejections before someone takes a chance and believes in them. I also remember that there was some guy (Jia Jiang) that went out of his way to get rejected every day for 100 days to get over his fear of rejection. Brilliant, right? He wrote a book about it. I just watched his TED talk.

So I think it’s partly what he says, he just tried hard to make unreasonable requests or weird and unusual requests and then he recorded what happened on video. He wasn’t actually rejected every time, some people gave him what he asked for. For him, it sounds like he learned a lot about himself, and was able to not just start running as soon as someone said “no.”

I submitted my first work to a competition when I was still a student. It wasn’t a great piece of work, and I wrote it for the competition under a time crunch. I didn’t win, and I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. But I didn’t really look for any other competitions for many years. It was just a few months ago, after I had started working on the symphony, and I got word of a competition that was especially for female composers of symphonic music, that I started to write the last movement to suit the parameters of the competition.

I started keeping an eye out for other competitions, and it kept me to deadlines. Just keep writing, a little bit every day, and make sure it’s done by the deadline. The second competition I submitted to this fall (third in total) was a new song I wrote. I blogged about the journey. I didn’t know what I was doing at first, but I didn’t give up. Just one step at a time.

So today when I got word that I didn’t win the second composition competition I ever entered, I shouldn’t get too discouraged. I remember learning about the philosophies of Eastern religions, and the striving for nirvana, which has to do with a quietness, a freedom from the bonds of this earth. I like to think of it as letting go of the desire for quick success, which is attained by those who are able to not get sucked into the abyss of disappointment that is so easy to fall into when faced with rejection.

And I wrote some more lines on my string quartet today.

Repeating the exposition

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Who writes sonata form these days? I don’t know that I want to follow the form exactly, but after listening to so much Mendelssohn, I feel inclined to look up what people say – does he actually follow sonata form or is it some kind of modified form? I actually found Katie Walshaw’s dissertation, and started reading what she had to say about it. I’m sure I’ll find a lot more if I keep reading it. Basically, she seems to claim that people have been judging Mendelssohn after Beethoven’s style, and that it’s unfair to do that. I’ve always kind of wondered why we would stick to one composer for analyzing form, and her thoughts resonate with me.

I add in a repeat of the first five measures of the piece, and then start diverging again. I feel like I’m coming into a more intense version of the exposition.

It was a lot of fun to have that one cello line leading into the repeat, and then to fill in the other parts, that all lead to a crescendo, landing on a forte. I keep going after the brief repeat, but finally I’m tired of thinking of new lines, and I’m leaving it for today. I’m searching for some new harmonies, and land in a new chord (B-flat minor seventh), but I want to think about it when I’m fresh again. I am not sure where I’m going to go after that landing.

Ten full measures

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Ok, so I felt ok with finishing up when I had gotten at least one part all the way to the added twenty seconds yesterday. But they were not filled out with all the parts. Today when I pick up work on the string quartet, I first fill out the remaining parts, and then I go to work to add another ten measures.

I alternate between contrapuntal movement and unison rhythm sections. I think it’s a lot of fun, and I guess that was a lot of what I heard in my Mendelssohn listening too.

After filling up the ten measures, I have a floating four measures of just cello line to build off of next time I pull out my composing work.

I’ve heard people complain that they can’t focus long enough to write music. I don’t write for very long stints either, usually. It’s intense while I work on it, but then I have to break it up with something else or my mind starts going to mush.

Also, if someone starts playing music in the background it becomes impossible to keep my focus. So that is out. When I’m writing music it is also difficult to take interruptions. If someone wants my attention when I’m writing, I’ll usually hold up a hand, to show them that I’ve noticed them, but they must let me finish what I’m working on. It’s usually just finishing up a phrase that’s hard to interrupt. And in an Allegro movement, there are many phrases!

Non-zero means at least a little bit

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It’s been a long day, and I spent a good chunk of time this morning trying to get better audio files, but not succeeding. I didn’t want to call it quits today before at least writing a little bit on the string quartet. It is energizing, but after giving each of the four string instruments a little more music to play, I’m just tired, and I’m calling it a day.

I’m still pleased, because I wrote a little bit. And what’s more: I like what I’m writing. I can hardly wait to play it with my friends. But there’s no huge rush. The piece is twenty seconds longer than it was yesterday. If I do this for five days a week, for five weeks, I’d have more than eight minutes of music. Not too bad, and I think I can probably write more some days.

Counterpoint rhythms

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I’m thinking of how a regular Bach fugue (for example, listen to this fantastic one for organ) goes. There are usually notes, subdivisions of that note, and then subdivisions of that note, and maybe one more subdivision. The rhythm is pretty straightforward, but the variety makes it so that each part can come out rhythmically at different times. This subdivision is at the heart of the art of counterpoint.

I think you’ll hear that I’ve listened to Bach when you hear my string quartet. I am not trying to write exactly like him, but he was a master of the craft, so if some of it bleeds through, I think it’s ok.

I’m doing nearly exactly the equivalent of what I did in my most recent composing session. A new line for each of the four string instruments, each extending a little further than the last. Except this time, I hear inside myself this viola line that has to come right as the cello line ends its line. And the viola ushers in the next section, and I’ve gotten to two minutes. I’m going to quit working on this for today.

It’s Jeremiah’s birthday, and I’m trying to figure out how to best honor him. We visited his grave, and sang a song. We had some cake, and some of us looked at pictures from the day he was born. I guess the main thing is I want to remember him, even though we didn’t get to keep him very long.

I’m listening to Requiem again, the piece I wrote to commemorate the dead babies I didn’t get to know. It has five movements – Eternal Rest, Day of Wrath, And the trumpet will call me, This tearful day, and Lamb of God.

When I read the scriptures, it really seems like trumpets will play an important role in the resurrection. In fact, trumpets have historically played an important role for many aspects of religious service and worship. For those interested, I wrote an article some years ago about brass instruments and religious worship.

More on counterpoint

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Picking up the string quartet again. I’m listening through what I wrote last time, and I’m adding in a crescendo where it seems obvious I ought to. I add in some slurs where I hadn’t gotten to that earlier. Then it’s time to write another part of the first violin part. True to form, I write on that part until I’ve extended past the end of the last cello line. I put in a rehearsal mark to assist with rehearsals.

And I do something similar with the second violin part. Rests here and there add to the interest of the piece. Trills give you a break from the melodic line. Changing the articulation helps show that it’s a new part. (I’m talking about a staccato section for all the strings at the same time. But it could just as easily be another change. Very legato, accents, marcato, etc.).

As I put in the viola line, I decide to make a little bit of a canon. Letting the viola play what the second violin just played, but delayed two measures. We’ll see how this shapes up! And then a change in mood happens. The careful staccato leads into octave jumps and some accents. I’m going to have to see if I can incorporate that figure into the other parts eventually.

The cello line gets to shine a little now, playing some high notes, and I think it will sound really beautiful. But I’m running out of time to write this moment, and I’ll have to leave it for a while at least.

Next time, more work on each of the lines. It is exciting to see what will happen.

Why add dynamics?

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It’s often one of my least favorite things to do, and I often push it off to the very end. I wrote a song a few months ago called Thou shalt call and the LORD shall answer. My first draft that I gave to the group had no dynamics on it at all. While we rehearsed it, it became evident that we needed to all be on the same page, so I put in some dynamics. It proved difficult to communicate clearly enough for everyone to catch exactly what I meant though, so I updated the score and gave them new ones.

I also noticed at rehearsal that the viola part was a little bit overpowering a few times, and I took out several notes to give the singers more space. It’s a reminder that rehearsal often clarifies things and it’s ok to change things. With the software I have available, it’s a quick thing as well.

Last night at dress rehearsal for the TSO (concert tonight! it’s sold out at the UVU) we were playing an arrangement for Ding Dong! Merrily on High by Heidi Rodeback. We played her arrangement with the choir for the first time, and she was listening. After we had played through the entire program, we got new parts, and played through it again. The entire viola section was disappointed because she had taken out our favorite part. But it’s not important. She decided our favorite part had to go, so that’s how it’s going to be. When you sit in the middle of the orchestra, it is difficult to judge how the balance is working as a whole.

Another note about dynamics. It’s one of the easiest things to change in a piece that’s written. It may say forte, but as you rehearse, your conductor tells you to change it to mezzoforte. Or any other change. But the dynamic marking is a placeholder for a change as much as it is a marking for how loud it is supposed to be. I think I’ll be more careful to put in dynamic markings for any pieces I write. I was going to send in a song to a competition, and I realized I had put in zero dynamic markings. So that’s why I worked through the song again, put in my markings, and wrote this post about why it’s a good idea.