A 365-Day Project"We Are All Mozart"A project to create ![]() ![]() |
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Not that we ever learn much with our hard heads, but we did find out that people take competitions very seriously, even if they're warned off that idea. But fortunately, most of the participants -- composers, performers and judges -- kept the good humor in mind. They looked for every excuse to vote compositions off the island ... and found them. Our mistake was once again taking on too much, and if the gods of composition hadn't smiled on us, it would have been a disaster. The network was active and fast. The audio worked. The composers got their electroacoustic pieces and acoustic scores through to us -- even if Miriam had a software failure and Claudio had a power failure. The perfomers all showed up. The clinch conductor was spectacular. The microphones worked. The engineer was on top of it all. The broadcast started and ended on time. The transmitter and streams stayed active. No one broke down, freaked out, or got sick. K2 was everything we could have asked for, but the stress informed us that next time -- when we take this K2 project on the road, and yes we will -- we'll have to prepare better and be ready for emergencies. The single greatest flaw was composers writing beyond the time allotted and resources available, considering we all knew it would be single acoustic round early in the day. Several composers wrote pieces which asked something not possible within a single daytime reading -- such as difficult-to-read layout, important missing details without which a piece couldn't work (Kalvos forgot an important senza vib on his voice lines), weak or incorrect handling of ranges that included tessituras not achievable before the evening, and most crucially, complex or missing instructions. All the pieces were expertly created, but in the stress of time, almost every composer left out aspects of a score that would have made it instantly readable and musical. But what we learned the most is the the NonPop Revolution is so well underway that we can happily participate once again as composers ourselves. |
In retrospect, we learned even more beyond these technical flaws of organization or the enthusiasm for competitions. We discovered an enormous wellspring of ability and craft as well as what, for lack of a better term, we might call inspiration. Forty-one pieces were created from those simple rules, and aside from the "manifolds" done by James Bohn, no two were even a hair alike. I began to wonder about those who did not participate. There were philosophical objections and practical ones, schedule conflicts and lack of interest.
But what if the objectors overcame their reluctance, if the schedules coincided? It intrigues me to know what musical thoughts were stirred by those who ultimately did not participate. Did they daydream, even a little, about what they might have written? Were there but a few seconds of possibility? The morning glories were in full bloom during those two days last September, and for days before & after. Did the plants consider not blooming one of those days? Was there a day when they had no flower ideas?
Having been through the composer productivity survey responses many times, I daydreamed about those who, like Debussy, could not write a piece in only a few months because it took him "that long just to decide between two chords." What if he had been hurried? What surprises would we have heard? A composer of craft can work quickly enough. I have before me a preview copy of a new piece by Noah Creshevsky, based on vocal samples of the voice of Chris Mann (who voice also served as the source of the 121 compositions in The Frog Peak Collaborations Project). From concept to completion -- I was privileged to follow the progress long-distance -- this eight-and-a-half-minute composition demanded four months, most of it recording, sampling, and cataloging source elements. But once the library was built, the composition seemed to be pushed forward by great waves of ideas. The result is a delicate and meticulous set of continuous miniatures.
In effect, after the library of sounds was organized, the composition of Noah's new piece Free Speech was done quickly. For acoustic composers, the source sounds are part of their milieu. There is no struggle to collect sounds -- at best, they may invent a technique or two, but the greater part of new composition of dot-music is the organization of existing sonic threads into new weaves. Few composers are spinning spools of thread anew. Is the very ordinariness of acoustic sound the reason composers must struggle mightily? To overcome the ennui of yet another violin?
To the survey of composer productivity eighty-five composers responded. Of them, only fifteen composed more than ten pieces in an average year. Think about that. And this: Only ten wrote more than two hours of music in an entire year. It is a concept that escapes me entirely. If a composer is responsible for creating the electroacoustic source ensemble every time, that self-limitation makes some sense, though I would expect many studies to spin out of it. James Bohn, whom I've mentioned, creates manifolds. I like the term, and have adopted it. My Glossolalia series of electroacoustic manifolds has run to more than twenty. But acoustic music? Where is the blockage?
Oh, I've lost you. I'm just talking numbers, an affront to the concept of art. And yes, maybe that is so. My interest in increasing visible productivity is in bringing the idea of the composer into the world of, if you will, teachers and journalists and improvisers and illustrators and the many other creative beings who make new work every day of their working lives -- and do not respect us for our wasting of craft and stinginess of output. The only means to examine this discontinuity is to compare not process but result. What is it we make as composers? How does what we make inform the next thing we make? How does making more let us be richer than making less? Is less really more, or is it a consequence, an artifact, an artifice of our lack of ideas or our unwillingness to be part of a capitalist culture that demands we be productive drones?
When I watch Project Runway (it's cycling through to the West Coast audience now) I don't see productive drones. I see the firing of imagination in the heat of close contact with other artists. Emotions run high and time is short, but beauty is created -- and failure is allowed. I want to hear the fireworks of brilliance and the dismal thud of failure, not the steady drone of the occasional chord of Debussy.
The second day of Komposer Kombat in Studio Z at WGDR on September 17, 2005. Clockwise from left, Lisa Jablow, Lucy Yates, Amanda Baker, Carla Parodi, Lydia Busler-Blais; Ravi Rajan, conducting.