Shapes in the Glass

The piece I’m working on at the moment is called Shapes in the Glass. It’s a minimalist piece, in the style of Steve Reich—bright, thick textured, and kind of annoying.

I came up with the idea after Aaron Marx played me a Reich piece in the conference room at Grounds for Thought, back in July. He was pointing out all the nuances that made it a great piece, not just some “mass-mover tool orgy.” Obviously, I am aware of the nuances… I just don’t particularly care for Reich’s works. I mean, I don’t dislike it that much, either… I guess it’s more the hype behind Steve Reich that raises my blood pressure than his actual music. So when I dismiss the music as something I could easily do, I sometimes come off as… well… dismissive. Hm. Anyway, I’m obviously not biased, because within an hour, I was inspired to do a piece in that style. So I worked on it a little bit until I met Aaron again for sushi a couple hours later. Since then, I’ve probably put in a grand total of five hours on it. Clearly, I’m not making it a priority.

I guess I’m just not convinced the piece is even worth my time. Why do I bother? There are pros and cons to finishing this piece. On one hand, it would make a good concert piece at the university—UMKC, Truman, or BGSU. It would be great to listen to if I could get a good recording of it. It would further demonstrate my versatility as a composer—I have a pretty good handle on any style except jazz.

On the other hand… WHY. It’s really not my bag. I’m in no hurry to complete it, but I’m also not about to throw it out. Maybe I’ll just work on it for twenty minutes a week or something. I just don’t care enough. It’s just something to do, to say I’m writing music. The problem I keep running into is, at the post-graduate level, we as composers are expected to give 110% on every single project, and every single project must be a potential national contest winner. Why does everything have to be for a commission? So, while I question whether every idea I come up with this summer is worth my input, I end up doing nothing at all.

Anyway, I have an idea for how to make the piece worthwhile. It starts out plainly minimalist. As the texture grows, the piece slowwwwly navigates through a chord progression, and the instruments gradually exchenge roles with the material… blah blah. You know, carefully nuanced composerly craftsmanship—so it’s more thoughtful than click-and-drag-to-fill-up-three-minutes-until-the-next-chord-change. But by the end of the piece, it becomes a drawn out neo-Classical chord progression on V-I. It will be very gradual, very subtle, until your ear is like, “What the f—waaaaait a second… awww, that’s cool.”

The piece should run at least fourteen minutes. I’m only into it about four minutes now. The instrumentation is: 2 flutes, clarinet, trumpet, vibraphone, piano, 2 violins. The title suggest that everything is blurry, until you gradually make out what the shapes represent—that is, when the end of the piece becomes clear.

People really liked my use of minimalism with the New Music Ensemble in the spring, so it’s not like I’m new to minimalism. I just want to do it my way… ironically, this means it grows into an older, more traditional style! My ultimate goal is to not be utterly annoyed by how the piece sounds.

If I ever do get the thing finished, performed, and recorded, I would certainly be interested to head feedback from Aaron Marx and Brad Fowler. If the piece achieves the effect I’m going for, and someone like Aaron sees it, then it would be a success. I couldn’t care less about what Dr. Beerman thinks of it… maybe I should try to get it performed at BG! At least the caliber of performers is high there…