This symphony bears the dedication: For Michel Edward, friend and teacher, without whose support
I would not have found the courage to write this work. It is in five moments and clocks in at about
25 minutes. I use classical forms, but with a twist. For example, the 1st movement is in a traditional
sonata form, but the repeats of themes are variations on them. In the exposition section development
has already started.
The other movements are: 2. Scherzo; 3. Fugue; 4. Passacaglia. Despite the forms, they are
very contemporary in style. It was as if I had to get it all off my chest. I now feel ready to move onto forms of my own making.
The S. S. Newfoundland: 1914 August-September 2006
A tone poem, in memory of the 78 men and children who lost their lives when they were abandoned
by their captain during a North Atlantic winter storm in March, 1914.
The music opens with an introduction to the scene: fog shrouding a large ice field where herds of
Harp and Hood seals are gathered. The steam-driven schooners move in and begin unloading hundreds of
men and boys armed with gaffs with which to cull the seals.
One ship, the S. S. Newfoundland, is
trapped by the ice, miles from the killing fields. The captain sends a crew of about 150 to scramble
over the twisted dangerous landscape. Thirty-four return to their mother ship; the rest of the crew
boards the S. S. Stephano where they are fed, then ordered to return to their own ship. The men set out
in late afternoon, only to be trapped on the open ice by a blizzard that raged for more than two days.
Fathers and sons were found frozen in each other's arms.
Music is an intimate part of the human experience.
Fascination with rhythms and varying pitches is as much a
defining element as is speech and abstract reasoning. I don't
know if intelligent beings from elsewhere in our universe would have a music
but I suspect they would, as music seems be an essential part
of the basic framework of intelligence.
It is so difficult for me to tell you what a symphony is "about." It is a creation
unto itself. In this one I recognize elements that pull the listener forward while
reflecting on the past. Hence, the subtitle. Each of us brings our own experience with us when
we listen to a soundscape. For me to talk about technical details like the forms, the harmonies,
the rhythms, the scales, and instruments would add nothing to your understanding of the glimpse of
the world I inhabit.
Memories of the Outaouais September - November 2005
The Outaouais is the region of Western Quebec surrounding the Gatineau River
where it empties into the Ottawa River.
It is the reminants of a very old mountain system that was worn away before the Rockies formed.
The composer lived there for about 20 years.
The work is organized into twelve segments, each representing a two-hour period of the day beginning at 2:00 am,
ending at midnight. For small orchestra.
I have no patience with people who divide music into broad categories,
such as "tonal" versus "atonal," and then make judgement calls reminiscent of George
Orwell's Animal Farm ("Four legs good; two legs bad"). Sometimes they go
so far as to claim "pre-1900 good; post-1900 bad."
Where does my music fit into this imaginary dichotomy? It is from within me, a man
who has grown up during the latter half of the 20th century. I could write in the style
of a pre-1900 master; or in the style of some of the experimenters of the early 20th century,
but such music does not grow out of my experience and it would be as artificial as a composition
homework assignment.
This symphony grew in a world where leaders use primitive thinking processes to turn the world into
a comic book. It grew from the restless and uneasy search to find footholds and from the hope
that there is loving intelligence—somewhere.
Duet for Harp and Violin Part 1: August 2005; part 2: June 2006
This work is still growing. I wrote the first movement in one evening sitting in 2005. Comments from the
on-line composers' world were so enthusiastic in their response that I felt compelled to continue
it. The 2nd movement took almost a year to write. Nickie Fønshauge recorded both movements
and has agreed to record more movements as they come.
A Winter Sonata: for violoncello and piano Winter 2003 - 2004
Winter has so many faces. Grey and damp. Driving wind and snow with stunning cold.
A crystal clarity. Children sliding and tumbling down soft hills. Every day a new and different day.