New Video (Below):

I always enjoy sharing audio files of my new compositions here, but I can’t do it very often because it usually takes months to complete one! This piece seemed to pass through my body more quickly, though. It felt as though, one minute, I was completely dry, as I you may recall, and the next minute, there it was – a full 47-page, 13-minute orchestra score. I hope you enjoy it. See info about it below.

This is the first movement to be composed for what will be my new Symphony No. 4: The Enchanted Lake, though it happens to be movement two. That’s the traditional “slow and pretty” movement. Like my previous music, it is in a neoromantic and melodic style.

Today’s virtual mockups sound way more realistic than they used to, even enjoyable, but obviously not quite as human as a real orchestra. So, this is just a kind of “sneak peek” until human musicians can finally record it when all four movements are composed.

This time I am adopting the theme of “scenes from an enchanted lake.” There is a very short Russian tone poem by that title from 1909 and even a couple of actual lakes by that name, but this lake is entirely imaginary and truly enchanted – a musical lake! Each movement’s description will feature a different kind of bird and a mysterious hint that the lake has a mind of its own. Here is my whole program note for this movement: 

“II. Night: The Loon. In the moonlight, the mournful wail of a loon echoes across the enchanted lake, and from the distance receives a mysterious reply in wave upon wave of consolation, which only the loon can hear. The solo oboe plays the part of the loon at the beginning, at the end, and a few brief times in the middle, in a kind of conversation with the lake. These oboe solos can serve as anchor points for the listener along the way, since the lake’s many ‘waves’ of replies (mostly from the strings) are themselves in a rather freeform dream-state – better just to lose yourself in it than to look for a strict classical form.”

Although I prefer to listen with my eyes closed, for my more visual friends I have paired this mockup with a haunting slide show of moons, loons, and lakes at night, about one photo per minute, which of course won’t be seen in the concert hall or on the eventual CD/album.

Symphony No. 3:

Meanwhile, regarding my recently recorded third symphony, I have now received a big box of 150 advance copies of the CD! It is always pretty thrilling to open these boxes when they come to my home. They represent so many months of composing, editing the score and parts, and the whole recording process. It’s amazing how heavy 150 CD’s are!

I hasten to add how many people there are to thank for their contributions to this album, which is scheduled for release on Feb. 7 (Amazon, iTunes, YouTube, etc.). After all, I have been known to say that a composer without musicians is as helpless as a beached whale. This has been a team effort by well over a hundred people!

Briefly, first kudos go to conductor Robin Fountain, who spent so many hours studying the score to conduct it. He didn’t just wave a baton but rehearsed and taught the orchestra all the swells and particular tempo nuances for a musical interpretation. Then there are the 92 great musicians from several professional orchestras who come together to make the European Recording Orchestra. They truly made these nuances their own and played so expressively. It really wasn’t “just another gig” for them. Then there were the excellent recording engineer team, the fabulous post-production engineers and art/design staff at Parma, my wife (who put up with me when I was a basket case), and some crucial donors and close friends who cheered the project onward.

Parma’s PR staff just sent me a link to their beautiful new web page about the symphony, seen in this screenshot. I’ll share the link when they release it in connection with the Feb. 7 album release.

Hilltop News:

To shift topics now, here’s an update on my “Unhook the Feedbag Diet.” I’ve kept losing and am now going for a total of minus 40 pounds this week. I do feel so much more energy, not carrying the equivalent of four 10-lb. bags of flour around! Onward and downward! Not sure how much remains to lose, we’ll see.

Meanwhile, two days ago Crystal led kids from several grades at her school in a major production for a packed house, “A Festival of Lessons and Carols,” and it was lovely and so impressive. In her five years at this new school, she has grown the choral program from a few reluctant and fidgeting kids who could just manage to sing in unison (or stand there and not sing at all) to three large, enthusiastic choirs singing challenging arrangements in three parts and behaving perfectly.  Here’s a snap of her directing just one of choirs that sang.

Some people have noticed that among my recent CD albums are symphonies numbered 2, 3, (and 4, above, in progress). They ask why there is no symphony no. 1. Well, there is one, a youthful indiscretion from my checkered past. Upon some cringe-worthy listening to a concert recording of it this week after a long time, I realize it needs some serious revision, but I do hope eventually to add it to the list to complete the set.

Our holiday plans are pretty typical of many people’s – get-togethers, a live tree, giving and opening gifts, eating, making my lasagna for family, some travel by Crystal for a few days to see her mom’s family while I cat-sit, and with any luck we’ll both get some rest. I wish you all safe travels and happy celebrations, beginning with a very happy Christmas!

On a more serious note, I leave you now with the poem that actually inspired the above music, deeper than any birds or lakes. It has recently haunted my musical imagination and, I think, partially caused the above new melodies to finally begin playing themselves again in my head. Funny, the things that trigger that. For me, this poem is primarily about a peaceful, wondrous, and transcendent state of mind. I hope it does the same for your state of mind, amidst any holiday craziness.  

A Clear Midnight (1891)

“This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,

Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,

Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best,

Night, sleep, death and the stars.”

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass