Thursday, August 25, 2005

Heroic efforts with heroic material



Karlheinz Stockhausen.







To say much about this man is to try to explain how a duck quacks. Or how a balloon full of helium floats upward. You just have to sit and listen. Or walk and listen. Or get involved and listen. It's about letting the music get into your personal stream.

Listen. Live. Listen. Live.

A hero? Not in a traditional sense. In my book, his feet of clay, his grey matter and his efforts to advance his little corner of our musical heritage qualifies him for something. Heroic efforts often do yield heroic results.

On a personal note, I wish to study with Herr S. in Kurten next year or before he either stops teaching or passes from us. I may miss that train.

I hope I do not miss that train.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Please pardon my mess




It is the dawning of a new day. My personal exposure to those around me has expanded. What is my reponsibility to move forward the game pieces of my creative life? I am not playing against anyone except perhaps Time. In The Seventh Seal, the Knight plays for his life and the lives of those companions sheltered in their personal bubble beside the Plague. I am set to move my creative charges ahead to the outer sphere I would call the world.

Some of my musical additions have been learned and played. Many of my paper creations are in the hands of others. More singing is on the horizon. Other digital images and paperart await the push beyond my personal perimeter. The game is afoot.

Though I've had qualms about bringing my creations to the table before, I have an inner mandate. It is time. 'Create and share'. 'Create and share'. This is no time for 'Create'. It is time for the full cycle. Time is always precious. Something about 50 brings the momentum of share even to the more reticient of us humans. I am one of the reticent ones.

Please pardon my remodeling mess. Reticence is in transition to Reception and Resurgence and Replenishment.

Please pardon my mess.



Friday, August 19, 2005

It is the only moment you have




There are no heroes for this post. They will come on another day. Today is a day to be grateful and to look for the hope of a better today if not tomorrow. Tonight is an art opening in a new venue. Sunday a group of local pianists are to premiere my first set of Preludes. If the tendrils of my mind would only loosen their grip on the soggy, mouldy, rotten detritis of Court, Unemployment, Breakup, ad nauseum. Loosen...

"Ah, life. Don't talk to me about life."

Look forward I must. Hope I must have. Be in the moment I can stay.

Yes, Grasshopper. Be in the moment. It is the only moment you have.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

The Innovative Curmudgeon from New England


Charles Edward Ives.

A Yankee from Connecticut. Born in one century and developed in another. His shadow in two fields- insurance and music- cast long expanses of shade. There are a few reasons that I find him inspirational.

First, his music does not allow easy digestion on first hearing. He has layers of melodic line, harmony and texture. His specific musical references may be archaic to my ears from the 20th and 21st century but his combinatorial powers are as fresh as ever.

If something musical does not allow repeated hearings without reducting into a staid bland pap of sound, then there is a potential in that music that I personally may wish to return again and again to it. The music of Elliott Carter, Dmitri Shostakovich and Karlheinz Stockhausen come to mind. A risk in their music is that density and dissonance will become the end result in itself. Beauty, however, comes in the thorns as well as in the flower.

On the other side of that coin is the music of Arvo Part and Jan Garbarek among others for whom music almost attains the form and movement of a glacier. There is not a pap of sound but a measured metamorphic transformation from one moment to the next. As a singer, I look forward to someday tackling some of the works of Part with my fellow singers in the Festival Singers of Kansas City.

Second, the actual forms of Ives' music are interesting to me. The actual structure of his piano works especially gives me inspiration for my own work. Since I do not "hear" my compositions when I look at them on the page, I must rely on playing them back through the difficult medium of the MIDI interface. As I compose, I often have relied on a more visual mode of selection than an aural one. Without specifically giving examples, let it suffice to be said that Ives' work in print and in recorded and played expression has given me tremendous encouragement. He is the mentor I never met who gave me some of the permission to go "off the path."

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Warmth, fire and grace


Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. The name to me conjures warmth, fire and grace in musical expression. From the early 1970's, I have had a great admiration for the voice and demeanor of the notable German baritone. Even before I really had much desire to sing in a more formal manner, I found inspiration in his voice and the literature he had selected to present.

Now that I am singing more formally, I still find inspiration in his tone, in his diction and in his repertoire. I am too old to aspire to his greatness. I am not too old old to reach for his level of expression to be found in some way in my voice and persona.

I have selected this artist because of his inspiration to me. Greatness is a matter of degree. Fame doth not always smile on its recipients. Greatness may be worn with more grace and aplomb. It also calls for a nod to the source of the gifts from which greatness is wrought. I thus nod to the giver of all gifts. Each of us has innate greatness within us of some sort. It is, in my lifelong opinion, the essence of life to one, find the gifts; two, develop the gifts; and three, share the gifts. All is else is ultimately chaff. Interesting chaff, perhaps. But chaff nonetheless.

Find. Develop. Share.

Monday, August 15, 2005

First in an informal series of my "heroes"


At the beginning of another week, I feel led to give some small nod, honor to one of the small list of people whom I would not hesitate to call a "hero" of mine. Feet of clay and all, this group will not include total unknowns. The effort on my part is to shine my personal spotlight on the larger personality and life so as to give credit and thanks for the life of another.

Brian Wilson. I certainly do not claim to have new info on this remarkable man. No. He has always been my nearly-constant musical companion since 1964 or so. At a tender age, I found the harmonies launched like Athena from the shield of the Four Freshman and HiLo's. His dense combinations of notes and timbres moulded my fertile mind and gave me the inspiration to walk into the uncharted scope of "harmony." Everyond around me walked the thin red line of melody. I was drawn to the thicker, wilder if you will, blue line of harmony. Armed with the open door of so many other notes upon which to draw, I was never at a loss for some other way to express myself.

The real payoffs came for me early and still come now. Beauty of expression is for the edification of one's own self and for the others around when there are soundings. I feel so fortunate to have been privy to Brian's distillations and expressive quirkiness. His blazed trail gave me a path away from the usual. Where he walked and sang, so did I. Thanks to Brian Wilson for pulling notes and spirit together and pushing it to the doors of my mind.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Ok- so how is it that I came into this room?



Hello, Dave. I really wish you wouldn't do that.

How many words of other minds have we used essentially as our own? We make points, we woo lovers, we vie for prized jobs from out of the heads of our fellows. Today, I start my blog with the words of another. Is my memory of that phrase clear? Does it really matter?

From this point on, I wish to extend a permanent invitation to you to extract my words for your use. It is the pleasure of creating toughts from the pool of possibilties that draws me into the shallow end of the pool, the ocean we may name blogspace. Welcome to this little corner called Ephemera Etcetera. I welcome your company at any time.

The posts will not likely come often. Yet they will come with alacrity from between my ears. Strap in for a fun ride.

Be ready for Anything...

Jim