Chapter Twenty-Two - The Originals
I won my first Young Authors’ prize in 5th Grade for that book of poetry. It had nothing to with my decidedly poised elementary-school-level comprehension of haiku. It was the composed piece of music that went with each poem which were included on a cassette of me playing. The judges dragged out a cassette player for the awards ceremony, and everyone was forced to listen to the warblely recording.
I knew this was why I had won. Because the next year, when I scribbled a few bars of music as borders on top of each page, the announcer goes, “Last year, he wrote these beautiful compositions. I don’t know what happened this time.”
I also won the 1st Annual Herbert Zipper Prize in Composition. Hopefully it was for something better than “Rainfall”.
It’s odd that I used to get in trouble while practicing piano when I started improvising. It was creative. I like rhythms, so a lot of it sounded percussive and loud. To my mother, it was banging on the keys and not practicing Hanon.
I also like TV shows, so many of my improvisations sounded like the theme from “Hunter” or “Hill Street Blues”. The tune I was most proud of turned out to be a direct rip-off of the music from the last TV movie of “Emergency”. But to The Mom, this only meant she had let me watch too much TV and that got taken away the next week. (Probably not true, but you get the point.)
I did not get serious about composition until much later while film scoring at the UCLA Extension to replace my lack of piano playing.
When I first started talking about putting originals on the Dream Concert, Matt was working at Avid, the company that made the music writing software, Sibelius. This was months before I got serious about concert prep, and the ideas were just conjecture.
Matt gave me a copy of Sibelius 7 to compose away with. Having written everything by hand before in pencil on 11x17 score paper, this would change my composing life.
I think to Matt this was no big deal. To me, this was the official green light of the Dream Concert and approval of original music.
It meant everything.
To learn Sibelius, I began with “The Norwood Homicide” score and rearranged it into an orchestral suite for 51-piece orchestra, expanding sections and composing some new material. I could now easily substitute 16th notes for 8th notes, write faster and more complicated passages, and double instruments in the orchestra with ease
To have the opportunity to revise your compositions, even years later, is important for the growth of your music.
Remember my video mentor’s advice about not substituting technology for your creative vision?
It’s a similar concept here. While the Sibelius software was miles better than pencil and paper, it was important to understand why Norwood would work in expansion.
The cues needed more development and organization to grow from a handful of 1-3 minute cues into a cohesive piece. This was not just stringing music together.
Unlike scoring for film, now it was necessary to take the listeners on a journey. How do the instruments develop? Should I add counter melodies? How is this properly orchestrated with full orchestra instead of 15 pieces?
Although the original scoring session was exciting, this fully orchestrated suite had maturity. At least I thought.
When Matt listened to the first version, he commented that it lacked a thematic through line. I went back in and connected the dots. Revision and iterations are imperative.
Unfortunately in performance, the orchestra got lost, losing a minute of music until they got on and that particular segment introduced the main backbone of the entire piece. The thematic problem remained.
Nonetheless, I felt a certain sense of validation when the principal bass player thanked me for putting a piece like this on the program.
Another of my performance signatures has become to play “Chopsticks” at the opening of each concert.
Before working on the showcase piece, I decided to write a fun intro which would not be listed on the program. It was essentially variations on “Chopsticks” for full orchestra, previewing portions from all the works to be played that night.
When initially conceiving the originals, I listened to every possible Pixar and Dreamworks Animation score. ITunes raked in hundreds of dollars from me as Apple Music was not a thing yet.
Those composers are the new contemporary classical torch bearers, and it was important to study their orchestrations (and thematic thru-lines). Our hope with the Inception Orchestra Young Composers Mentoring Program is to nurture the next generation.
In one cue from “Finding Nemo”, Thomas Newman used harp and strings. I loved it, but had no familiarity with writing for harp. This was one instrument omitted from our film scoring instrumentation class because asking a harpist to cart her instrument from the off-campus parking lot to the music building would have put us dramatically over the materials fee budget.
I asked the Dream Orchestra harpist, Hee Jin, to give me a lesson. She dragged her instrument to my apartment and taught me everything she knew... every trick strum, what notes not to put together and how to give her enough time to reset to the low strings after a high run. At one point, I wanted to compose a piece for harp, piano, and orchestra for the two of us, but she had to settle for featured soloist in the opening number (because again, I am lazy.)
Originally there was a gag where I would ride the pit elevator up with the piano, rise onto the stage and play “Chopsticks”. Because of the acoustics in the Aratani, we had to move the orchestra forward rendering the pit non-operational, and invent a vignette where Daniel steps off the podium and calls me because I was running late to play “Chopsticks”.
Daniel was brilliant and funny, and thank goodness this happened because of the idiocy of the second half opening. But pieces like this only work if you remember not to take yourself too seriously all the time in your compositions.
The surprise hit of the night was “A Concerto in Crayon”. It was written for my nephew Kai, depicting his adventures as he drew.
Daniel was convinced that everyone would leave the theatre singing Variation 18 (Rachmaninov). I’m very proud that more people remembered and talked about “Crayon”.
Composing this piece was crazy. My birthday was three weeks prior to the concert. I was not halfway done writing the music. and was eating cake instead. I was newly dating the “Music of the Night” girl at the time, and she did something so selfless. She refused to text, call, or talk to me until I got this piece done. It took four days.
I realize that most of my music sounds film score-ish. In fact, many people say that to me. But I know it’s because I feel good pieces have to tell a story. I was like that in video editing, too. Every montage had to say something, even if it was just a bunch of pictures being cut together.
I was very clearly able to see the visuals for this piece. Kai doodling at table, his crayons taking him out to sea, captaining a boat, fighting off pirates, climbing a huge wall, slaying a dragon and saving a princess.
For some mentors, it is about structure. Story is also structure. Beginning-middle-and end. Make it grow. Take us on a journey.
Julia and Claire, twin daughters of our business development guy at work, were picked out from the audience and would play rain sticks. I would strum the piano strings with drum sticks and pound the keys as crashing sound effects with no specific notes. The percussion was intentionally all over the place. A bass trombone was brought in just to give the dragon that menacing low brass blasting sound I love.
In the end, “Crayon” was the show piece of the evening.
Click on the video below for "A Concerto in Crayon:
Our Concert Master reassured me in advance not to freak out the first time I heard the originals sight read through, because everyone would be finding their way with new material. She also told me I failed to put dynamics into all the parts.
“So the opening? Do we play loud or soft?” Grumble.
The musicians in the orchestra were AMAZING!!! And sooo supportive. I am humbled to have had the opportunity to perform with each one of them.
At the first rehearsal, the hair stood up on my arms when they started to play the Rachmaninov, because it was the first time I was performing with such high caliber, professional artists... something you only imagine when you were younger.
And how incredible is it when these are the musicians playing the film scores to all the current summer block busters performing your original pieces. It is an experience we want to give to young composers at Inception. Let them hear their works by interpreted by pros.
It always amuses me that people distinguish Classical musicians from rock stars. Largely I’ve discovered musicians are just musicians. Classical musicians are more buttoned up on stage, sure. Off stage they’re equally crazy, demanding, obnoxious, and freaking talented! I can admit it.
Composers, treat your musicians well, and they will forever be in your corner. I had one pianist who was hired for every film scoring session at the UCLA Extension. He was tough on my “simple” writing at first, so I kept making his parts more complex. He got a kick out of it, and by the end told me he most enjoyed playing my scores and wanted to always get it right for me.
I’ve always had another goal of making Classical music accessible at performances. Do this, and your musicians engage. And your audience will respond.
My friend Trina said, “I went to the concert to support you, not really expecting to like it, but I really enjoyed it.”
Several people have commented it was the most fun they’ve had at a classical music concert.
Chil called me “the Rockstar of Classical Piano”. Ha!
The Dream Concert was a huge, collaborative effort. I could not have done it without everybody... fellow musicians, crew, audience, sponsors, friends, and family.
I will be forever grateful.
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