Collaborative Composing with a Music Enthusiast

With Bonnie McGrath and our pencil sketch
of Bruce's Theme.

Last fall, James Ginsburg (the president of Cedille Records) asked if I’d be willing to offer a composition lesson as an auction item for a Cedille Records benefit event. The purpose of the lesson would be to help someone with presumably minimal musical training to compose a short piece of music. I’d done something similar a few years ago; as part of a residence with the Albany Symphony, I helped forty middle school students write short musical numbers for an oratorio about Henry Hudson. I hadn't tried this with an adult before. Helping a donor compose a short piece in a single composing session was an intriguing idea, so I readily agreed to Jim’s request. Jim listed the composition lesson in the auction, and Bonnie McGrath was the winning bidder. Bonnie is an award-winning journalist, columnist, blogger, and lawyer. She also has a deep and enthusiastic appreciation for music; we are constantly running into each other at various events around Chicago. 

Bonnie and I met for two hours in early December. After mulling over various instrumental possibilities, we agreed on composing a piece for piano. Then we got down to business. As Bonnie experienced firsthand, the basis of composing is to choose a concept for the piece, then make a series of decisions that support this concept. Bonnie wanted to write a piece for her fiancé Bruce, who enjoys the music of Philip Glass. We sat down at the piano, and I played several Glass-like musical gestures until Bonnie heard one that she liked. We had our concept; now we had to figure out what to do with it. I played through several possible harmonic progressions until Bonnie found one especially appealing, and we made this the basis of the entire work. We then experimented with melodic shape, various accompaniments, and phrasing. We also explored how to build tension, when to relax that tension, and what role dynamics and range play in the context of the piece as a whole. We ended our composition by using material found earlier in the piece to give the piece greater cohesion. Finally, we made sure that everything we wrote down would be playable by Bonnie herself. Over the course of the two hours, Bonnie decided that not only would she would dedicate the piece to her fiancé, but that she would also premiere the piece for him herself.

After our meeting, I entered the piece into a music notation program (we had used pencil and paper during our composing session) and gave Bonnie several bound copies along with our pencil and paper sketch. I also gave her a CD recording of the piece played by my husband, pianist Joe Francavilla, so that she could study his performance as she learned it (to listen to Joe’s recording, click here).  After much hard work and secretive practicing, Bonnie gave the premiere of Bruce’s Theme on Valentine’s Day for a very surprised and happy Bruce.

Writing a piece with someone not familiar with the composing process was just as fascinating for me as it was for Bonnie. She learned about the various musical parameters that go into creating a new piece, as well as the vast number of decisions a composer makes to shape every aspect of a piece. I was surprised to learn just how many choices I make at every step in the composition process, even in a one-minute piece! It was refreshing to see this process through someone else’s eyes. This was a mutually beneficial and fun collaboration for both Bonnie and me. On a personal note, I was thrilled to be a part of such a unique experience for Bonnie, and happy that she took this opportunity to turn the entire adventure into something very meaningful in her life. 

Rehearsal Technique for Composers

One of the most neglected topics at music schools, and one which is paramount to building a successful career as a composer, is rehearsal technique. It is difficult to teach; professors don’t usually attend their students’ rehearsals prior to school recitals, nor do they usually demonstrate rehearsal technique in a seminar for composition students. Most composers ultimately learn through trial and error.

Composer Dan Visconti and I tackled this topic last summer at Fresh Inc Festival, where we’re both on faculty along with Fifth House Ensemble. We devised a skit, which Dan christened “Goofus and Gallant” in homage of the cartoon characters from the children’s magazine Highlights whose purpose was to overtly model good and bad social behaviors. Like Goofus and Gallant, Dan (Goofus) and I (Gallant) presented three mock rehearsal scenes along with the help of members of Fifth House Ensemble. I ran the skit again for the students in my Chicago College of Performing Arts Composition Program (this time, I played both Goofus and Gallant) along with the assistance of Gaudete Brass Quintet. From these two sessions, as well as from numerous observations I’ve made over the years of a broad range of composers’ social interactions in rehearsal situations, I have devised a list of things composers should consider when rehearsing with musicians.  While some of the items might seem obvious, I’ve seen enough rehearsals in which they were not to warrant listing them below.

The Dos and Don’ts

Be early to rehearsal in case the musicians have questions on their parts; if you’ve not yet met some (or all) of the performers beforehand and your piece is for chamber ensemble or smaller, then personally greet each performer. Use people’s names instead of calling them by the name of their instrument. Be warm and attentive; bring your score (yes, some people actually go to rehearsals without one) as well as a pad of paper to take notes as you listen on spots that you’d like to check. Find out from the musicians when they’d like feedback from you, as some groups might want to run the entire piece prior to hearing your thoughts, while others might want to intermix smaller sections and feedback. When they’re ready for your comments, let the performers know what you’re really happy with, along with the spots you’d like to address.

Be ready to help the performers get back on course if they’re getting hung up on a spot. One of the most painful rehearsals I sat through involved musicians who were having rhythmic issues on a passage while the composer sat impassively watching them, not offering any feedback on where or how they were getting off track. In addition to burning up valuable rehearsal time, the composer came across as disengaged from the musicians. I’m all for waiting to see if an ensemble can make corrections on their own – I tend to wait on speaking up about anything until I hear the performer repeat the mistake again, as they usually self-correct upon another run-through – but there’s a limit to how long a composer should wait before offering some constructive feedback to solve the problem.

Additionally, it never helps a composer’s cause if you ignore your performers, if you’re rude to them or insult their playing, if you invade their personal space to try to point something out on their score, or if you start screaming at them. Always stay professional and keep your cool. You never know which performers you’re working with today will become frequent collaborators in the future.

Working with a Conductor

Think of a conductor like the skinny part of an hourglass: you’re on one side, and the ensemble is on the other. All interactions go through the conductor, as he/she is the person in control of the rehearsal, not you. So if a musician asks a question during the rehearsal, let the conductor answer; otherwise, he might view this as a challenge to his authority. I always talk with a conductor in advance of any rehearsal to find out when he would like feedback from me. Many conductors will want to run the piece first and then turn to you for comments; some will want to get through the entire rehearsal and receive feedback from you afterward. 

Giving the Performers Space

Performers need time to run through the piece and woodshed challenging spots without the composer present. I also like to give them time to make their own interpretation of my piece. Student composers tend to be responsible for finding performers, as well as organizing and running all rehearsals, but professional composers who are working with pre-formed ensembles should let the performers have time to rehearse first. I never come to an early rehearsal of any work unless the performers request for me to do so; I usually hear the last rehearsal or two, and that’s it.

To wrap up this post, I offer one more piece of advice: thank your musicians at the end of rehearsals. Thank them after the performance, too; post-concert appreciation can be expressed by a handwritten note or email, chocolates or another tasty snack, etc. These small gestures (which are independent of any formal payment you or an organization is making) go a long way in letting performers know how much you value their time and skills in helping bring your music to life.

Listening is linear. Composing isn’t.

In a typical live concert, audience members experience a piece of music as a linear event. There’s no going back to listen to an earlier spot, no lingering over a particularly catchy chord. My experience as a composer is quite different. Over the course of my career, I’ve perhaps composed two or three pieces in which I sat down at a piano and wrote the work from one end to the other without stopping. It is far more common for me to work on multiple sections simultaneously, skipping back and forth throughout the piece as I work. 

This approach works well for me for several reasons. First, it allows for musical ideas that occur throughout an entire piece to be developed at more or less the same time. I can introduce a brief version of a motive early in the piece; I can grow it throughout the main body; I can use it triumphantly at the high point, and then bring it back as a whimper in the finals notes of the piece.  For a work with a longer duration, I am able to develop multiple movements at once that share some aspect of a motive. For instance, in the large-scale oratorio that I’m currently writing, I am finding it useful to work on ideas for multiple movements of the piece simultaneously. This allows me to devise a few main motives that will be used in a variety of ways throughout the entire oratorio. This approach is also helpful if I get stuck on a particular spot – I can jump to another part of the piece and keep working.

The key to a non-linear approach is staying flexible. I tend to initially work with pencil and paper and eventually switch over to a computer once my sketches are detailed enough. With pencil and paper, it is easy to not get too attached to anything I put down, as the score at this stage usually looks like a hot mess, with musical ideas scribbled all over the place. But with a good computer notation program, you can be seduced into thinking you're much closer to a final product than you really are, as the music looks so neatly engraved on the screen and sounds like music when you hit the playback button. I avoid the siren call of the computer for as long as I can; when I finally switch over to notating within Sibelius, I don’t get too committed to any music I put into the program until much further into the process.

Another key is to think organically. When I write a musical idea that constitutes the opening of a piece, I try to simplify it. Does the piece really begin four to eight measures earlier than I think it does? Perhaps even sixteen measures before my current point of entry? The same organic approach applies to the climax of a piece. Sometimes I’ve worked on building material into a high point for so long that I think the section lasts much longer than it actually does (it is hard to listen with fresh, objective ears). I also find that once I reach a high point, I can experiment to see if the music can momentarily stabilize and withstand one more organic push to reach an even higher point than I first imagined. J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, has this approach down extremely well. When she gets to a structural high point of her story, instead of peaking and letting the tension fall away, she turns the high point into a plateau to which she adds more material that climbs to yet another high point. 

Sometimes, after working out of order for most of a piece’s construction, I find it surprising to finally hear it in order at the piece’s premiere. After a while, my ears adjust, and then I can’t hear the piece any other way.

Beginning Terra Nostra: An Oratorio

I am currently working on a project two and a half years in the making, and it is the largest undertaking of my career.  In September of 2011, Robert Geary (the conductor of the San Francisco Choral Society, Volti, and the Piedmont East Bay Children’s Choir) asked if I were to compose an oratorio, what would it be about?  At the time, Bob and I were at the Volti Choral Institute for High School Singers in Occidental, California.  Students from four local high schools were gathered together for a fun weekend of singing alongside choristers from Volti; they were rehearsing one of my Millay sonnet sets that the combined choruses would perform a month or so later in a concert in San Francisco.  Perhaps it was because we were surrounded by gorgeous redwood trees in the middle of wilderness, or maybe because I had recently composed a string quartet based on Gaia (the personification of the earth in Greek mythology) and felt that I had more to say on that subject—whatever the reason, by the end of our three day institute, I pitched to Bob the basic concept of an oratorio in three parts that celebrates the planet, the rise of humanity, and the search for a balance between the earth and mankind.  He liked it, and I sent him a fleshed-out formal proposal after the institute.  It took about a year from that point to be approved by the San Francisco Choral Society and a commissioning contract to be formulated; the Piedmont East Bay Children’s Choir also came aboard as joint commissioners.  By January 2013, all of the paperwork was in place, and I was green-lighted to commence the project.

The size of the oratorio will be physically big.  I am scoring it for four soloists, the San Francisco Choral Society, one of the choirs in the Piedmont East Bay Children’s Choir, string orchestra, piano, and three percussionists.  It is also big in duration, containing three parts that will be approximately 20 minutes each for a total duration of an hour.  The parts will receive staggered premieres, with the first part premiering in November 2014, the second part in April 2015, and all three combined parts in November 2015. 

Additionally, the oratorio is big in scope, involving approximately 22 texts.  I searched a diverse variety of writings for about eight months, and crafted the libretto from a wide range of sources and writers: creation myths from four continents, a passage from the Book of Genesis, verses about the European Industrial Age, writings by John Muir and Walt Whitman, and poetry by Lord Alfred Tennyson, William Woodsworth, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Carl Sandburg, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Edna St. Vincent Millay among others.  Some of the passages I use will be short excerpts, some will be set in full; some might not survive the composing process and be left out.  At the moment, I am still waiting for permission on two copyrighted texts.  I will dedicate a future blog to the topic of copyright permissions; for now, suffice it to say that it can be a long, multi-month process that requires a lot of patience.  I have not been successful in securing all of the texts that I wanted, but in my months and months of researching texts, I discovered several poems that can take the place of my first choices if need be.

So here I am, two and a half years after Bob’s and my first conversation.  I’m starting to put notes on score paper for part 1.  Bob and the San Francisco Choral Society are firming up details on their end, such as choosing soloists (it will be useful to know the singers’ ranges as I compose), what percussion instruments will be available (another detail that will impact my composing), and where the performances will take place.  The scores for part 1 will be due in late summer, with deadlines for the second and third parts spaced out over the next year.  I’ll periodically return to writing posts about the oratorio, from its composing process to the rehearsal stages and premiere performances.

Am I nervous?  Heck yeah!  And excited too.  This is the biggest opportunity I’ve had thus far in my career, and I intend to enjoy every moment of it.

Do your submission materials best represent you?

Over the years, I have adjudicated a number of composition-related opportunities (competitions, applications for college, grant proposals, etc.) and have seen a very wide range of composers’ approaches to preparing their submission materials.  I’d like to offer a few observations on how to select your materials and prepare them to make the strongest impression that you can for any opportunity:

1. If you are asked to submit two or more scores, make sure you send works that contrast each other.  I’ve seen a lot of applications in which the submitted works have extremely similar features – a flashy opening, a constant motor rhythm, and so on.  This approach gives the adjudicator a good idea of what the composer can do with those particular musical parameters, but it doesn’t necessarily flesh out a fuller picture of a composer’s capabilities.  I’d also suggest choosing works that show contrasting instrumentation.  An application containing two solo piano works probably won’t be as strong as an application that features a piano piece and a string quartet.

2. Depending on the adjudicating circumstances, your application might only spend a few minutes before the judges’ eyes.  In my experience, a judging panel frequently has a rather large pile of applications to get through in a fixed amount of time.  Choose your pieces carefully – submit works that have effective (yet contrasting) beginnings.  This doesn’t mean that you should choose works that have flashy openings; select pieces that exhibit something intriguing right away that will lure the panelists to keep listening.

3. Take into consideration what you’re applying for.  If you’re submitting scores for a festival that focuses on chamber music, then sending a large orchestra or concert band piece won’t really give the judges an idea of how you might compose a piece for chamber ensemble.  Likewise, if you’re applying for a grant to write a specific piece (such as a choral work), submit at least one piece that clearly demonstrates that you’ve previously composed in that genre.  Judges are more apt to fund a composer who has exhibited the ability to successfully carry out his/her proposed project than one that is untested. 

4. About recordings: edit them.  Remove long pauses, footsteps, and the tuning of instruments from the beginning so that your music starts right away.  Similarly, take out clapping at the end.  Live recordings are almost always preferred over MIDI, particularly as these show great initiative on the composer’s part to get his/her music played.  If you’re submitting a physical CD (which is getting less frequent, but still requested by some organizations), make sure to write the piece information on the CD case, not the CD itself.  Once a CD is put into a machine, judges can no longer read what you wrote on it.  Make sure your CD actually plays – check it in a stereo or computer before sending.  Ship your CD in a plastic case, not a paper sleeve; I’ve encountered several cracked CDs that weren’t properly protected prior to shipment.

5. If a Curriculum Vitae or résumé is requested, have a section in your document for your list of works.  Be sure to include the title, duration, instrumentation, and year composed for each piece; divide your list into categories, such as large ensemble, small ensemble, and chorus.  You should also include publication and premiere performance information if appropriate, as well as the authors of any texts you’ve set. 

6. Last but certainly not least, make sure the notation on your scores is as clean as possible, so it will leave the judges with a great impression about your level of professionalism.  See my previous First Impressions blog for more thoughts on this topic.

One final thought: even if you’re not currently preparing an application for an opportunity, there are a few things you can do right now to cut down on your future prep time; update your C.V. and list of works on a regular basis, make sure your scores are in great shape, and get musicians to record your works.  Then you’ll be ready to have your materials best represent you when you submit them for the next opportunity.

Behind every success is a string of failures

Failure is hard. When you have put a lot of effort into something and the results don’t pan out the way you wanted, you experience a little twinge of frustration. If you keep working at it and still don’t succeed, those little twinges can add up into entire arms and legs spastically flailing. It can be even more discouraging if you see others around you winning competitions or getting performances, and without much apparent effort on their part. What’s their secret, you wonder?

I’ve wondered about that all the way through school and into my early professional life. I believe it comes down to three things:

1. Stop comparing yourself to others. Over the years, I’ve had several students who cannot resist the urge to compare the works they’re writing to those of firmly established, older composers. The end result usually involves a few tears and some Kleenex, along with my pointing out that those firmly established, older composers were students once themselves who, like my students, probably had no idea of what magnificent musical concept they would discover five, ten, or fifteen years in the future. (I then have my students study early vocal works of Elliott Carter and George Crumb; neither composer showed many hints early on of what they’d later compose - students usually settle down after that.) Once we learn to stop trying to measure ourselves against other people’s achievements, we get more comfortable with exploring our own unique ideas and abilities.

2. People all around us are not succeeding the first time they try something, and perhaps not the second, third, or fourth time either. We just tend to hear about the time that they do succeed, without knowing how many attempts it took. You probably don’t want to announce when you lose a competition, but when you win one, that’s the time to proclaim it to the world.  Use social media, emails, and face-to-face conversations to spread the good news to your family, friends, and colleagues.

3. If you don't do anything at all, you will definitely fail.  But if you try, you might succeed. If you don't succeed all the way, you'll keep learning how to be more successful next time. 

There are two great quotes attributed to Winston Churchill. The first: “Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.” The second: “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” Both quotes perfectly capture what is necessary to persevere in a musical career: unending enthusiasm, a strong work ethic, belief in yourself, and the ability to pick yourself up when you fail, brush yourself off, and try again.

Your Personal Mission Statement

It helps a business define its core purpose and goals. It is the guiding principle of an organization. What is it?  A mission statement.  Businesses typically have these to delineate their range of activities as well as to guide future decisions.  You can usually find an organization’s mission statements on its website listed under their “About” or “Mission” header.

What does a mission statement have to do with being a composer or musician?  Everything!  Just like an organization, we too have activities that comprise our core purpose (be it composing or music-making), as well as goals for our future (such as composing an opera or winning an audition for a professional orchestra).  And similar to companies, we should have a mission statement to keep us focused on our current activities while also taking steps now to ensure the realization of our future goals.

The first step to writing your personal mission statement is to research how companies write theirs.  What kind of activities does each organization cover?  How general or specific do they get in defining these activities?  Here are three great examples of mission statements from Chicago organizations, each of which has approached their statement in a slightly different manner (click on each header to view their webpages):

Chicago a cappella

“Chicago a cappella is a creative enterprise devoted to furthering the art of singing together without instruments.”  Chicago a cappella follows this with their ensemble biography.

Fifth House Ensemble

“Fifth House Ensemble taps the collaborative spirit of chamber music to create engaging performances and interactive educational programs, forging meaningful partnerships with unexpected venues, artists of other disciplines, educational institutions, and audiences of every type.”  Fifth House then lists their five core values that support their mission statement.

Cedille Records

“Cedille Chicago is dedicated to producing classical recordings of the highest quality featuring outstanding musicians from Chicago. Our purpose is to enhance the world’s catalog of recorded music by exploring new and under-represented compositions and documenting important interpretations of standard repertoire. The extensive dissemination of these recordings is designed to bring these artists to a worldwide audience, thus enhancing their reputations and careers, and to benefit as great a listening public as possible.”  Notice how Cedille’s mission statement starts with a broad sentence, then fleshes out its mission in the second and third sentences.  Cedille follows this with a section on their history.

Once you’ve researched a few organizations, make a list of what kind(s) of music you’re creating and/or performing, as well as the your range of musical activities.  Add your goals to this list, both short- and long-term (think of this in terms of projects that you want to do in the next 12 months, in the next 5 years, and in your lifetime).  Now that you’ve got a list, figure out what are the most salient details that comprise what you do and use these to craft your mission statement. Revisit your mission statement every so often to see if you still agree with it; tweak it as your goals shift over the course of your career.

Your personal mission statement is something that you can keep private, or can be incorporated in part or full into your official biography that you post on your website, in concert programs, etc. Ultimately, think of your personal mission statement as a rudder that can help navigate the course of your musical career, keeping you focused on your short- and long-term goals as you go.

Is all self-promotion shameless?

When I was an undergraduate composition student at the University of Michigan, I observed two composers who were masters of self-promotion: Michael Daugherty, my composition teacher, and Derek Bermel, a graduate composition student.  Both had the confidence and ability to walk up to just about anyone and engage them in a conversation about their music.  Both composers’ promotional abilities were amazing to watch, and very difficult for me to emulate.  Granted, I hadn’t been composing as long as either Daugherty or Bermel to have much experience in promotion, nor did I have as many pieces to peddle.  But it was more than this – I was very shy and found it painfully hard to talk up my music to others.  Over the years, I came to terms with my shyness, and have found my own groove for promotion given my personal strengths and limitations: I employ a mix of email cold calls, monthly newsletters, meetings over coffee, and good, old-fashioned concert-going and hand-shaking.

Exploring my own past makes me wonder, what constitutes “shameless” self-promotion?  Are all forms of self-promotion shameless?  What’s non-shameless?  And by whose measurement?  Let’s consider an example.  A fictitious composer writes several new works.  No one knows the music exists except for a few of the composer’s friends and family.  He decides to program the works at a local venue that he rents for an evening.  He then starts a social media campaign via Facebook, Twitter, and emails with an increase in announcements during the weeks leading up to the concert.  He purchases advertising time on a local classical music station, hangs posters at some local universities and stores, and sends out personal invites to music critics and supporters.  Is anything that I’ve listed shameless, or just good business?  Or is shameless doing something beyond what I’ve described? 

Over the years, I have met several individuals that expressed the opinion that if someone is a composer, then this must mean that he/she shamelessly self-promotes.  There are certainly people out there (and not just composers) who many would feel go over the line; for instance, they hound concert presenters via emails and phone calls to be programmed on a concert series, sometimes multiple times per year (or even per month).  While it is important to get one’s name in front of presenters so they remember you when they make their programming decisions, at what moment do your actions cross the line?   

Each of us should occasionally assess how much self-promotion we’re doing, and how people are responding to it.  If you are very aggressive in your promotion, but find your attempts aren’t turning into that many performances, then perhaps you need to tone it down.  Alternately, if you aren’t getting a lot of performances and aren’t promoting your work at all, then you need to step it up.  Ultimately, we all need to find our own self-promotion groove that not only works for us, but also for those we are trying to interest in our music.

Hey Jealousy: Learning from our perceived rivals

The Gin Blossoms, Black Crowes, and John Lennon have sung about it.  Ross and Rachel’s relationship on the popular 1990s TV show “Friends” was constantly thrown into turmoil over it.  Siblings struggle with it daily.  We have all experienced it, but often have a hard time acknowledging it – jealousy.  In the professional world, this occurs in a variety of manners, but can be more or less distilled into a single thought: why is he (or she) getting that opportunity instead of me?

I first experienced this thought when I came face-to-face with other young composers in college (it is easy to be a big fish in the “little pond” of high school when you’re the only composer in town… until you move to a much bigger pond).  On the surface, it looked to me like my peers weren’t doing anything different than what I was doing, and yet they and their music were getting a lot more attention.  I failed to realize two important points: 1. Those composers undoubtedly worked A LOT behind the scenes to promote their music; and 2. I could learn from these people and make their opportunities become mine too.

By the time I graduated from college, I had a strategy for getting past jealousy: research the composer who’s getting the opportunities.  Check out his biography.  Do you recognize all of the competitions he’s won?  Are there ensembles or musicians that you’ve not heard of?  Do you see any connections from one achievement to the next, such as a conductor who performed the piece with a few ensembles?  Try listening to the composer’s music.  Does it do something unique that you find interesting?  Then turn your research into action: do internet searches on anything you don’t know; enter all competitions you qualify for; find out if those ensembles program new music on a regular basis and might be open to getting materials from you.  Even try composing using musical parameters gleamed from the music and see if this leads you to compose in a new direction.

Like Ross repeatedly experienced on “Friends,” no good can come from jealousy.  I’d also suggest the same is true about passive behavior.  So try taking a proactive approach.  Congratulate your colleagues when they win a prestigious award or receive a notable commission. Then learn how they got the opportunity.  Ultimately, careers are a mixture of great composition skills, a strong business sense, a healthy amount of networking and concert-going, and research.  Jealousy has no place in this mix.