Thank You for Waiting [2012]
For large orchestra (3 3 3 3 - 4 3 3 1 - 4 perc. - hp, pf, strings)
Duration: ca. 15'
For large orchestra (3 3 3 3 - 4 3 3 1 - 4 perc. - hp, pf, strings)
Duration: ca. 15'
Listen:
First performance: February, 2013 by the USC Thornton Symphony - Donald Crockett, conductor
Selected for the American Composers Orchestra's 2013 Underwood New Music Readings and winner of the 2013 Underwood Emerging Composers Commission
In the last few pieces that I’ve written, I’ve been obsessed with finding the “ghost in the machine” – that is, I’ll imagine some great big engine or device which is mechanically cranking out music, and over the length of the piece I’ll try to uncover the spirit within that machine, or the core emotion that seems to be driving the whole process.
In Thank You for Waiting, the "machine" is a melody that unwinds throughout the work in various states of strength and decay. When the tune first emerges, it seems simple enough - a sequence of rising and falling thirds and fifths - but after a while these notes get wound tighter and tighter, spinning out in increasingly manic phrases as the momentum of the music becomes more relentless. In one sense, I was trying to be a good boy compositionally and employ strict motivic development to generate this material. At the same time, however, I often regard the task of "developing themes" in my music as a bit of a chore, and I was hoping to reveal a comic or mischievous tone to the music as the initially mundane proceedings gradually overheat and begin to go off the rails. Picture someone trying to read, say, a lengthy piece of legislation to you as you're both going over a series of whitewater rapids, and the effect that your adventure is having on their monologue, and you may see what I'm getting at.
Because these melodies give the impression of going on endlessly, never landing or completing themselves, the title of the piece is an expression of hope on my part: that the unsettled, hyperactive and/or satirical nature of the musical material can be heard as a texture in and of itself, and that the "waiting" on the part of the listener is its own reward. It's a phrase that I feel implies a small amount of bureaucratic absurdity to go along with its generous sentiment, which seems appropriate for this work. It is also an honest and genuine statement of gratitude to my spouse and children, who all did lots of waiting of their own for me while I finished the piece.
Selected for the American Composers Orchestra's 2013 Underwood New Music Readings and winner of the 2013 Underwood Emerging Composers Commission
In the last few pieces that I’ve written, I’ve been obsessed with finding the “ghost in the machine” – that is, I’ll imagine some great big engine or device which is mechanically cranking out music, and over the length of the piece I’ll try to uncover the spirit within that machine, or the core emotion that seems to be driving the whole process.
In Thank You for Waiting, the "machine" is a melody that unwinds throughout the work in various states of strength and decay. When the tune first emerges, it seems simple enough - a sequence of rising and falling thirds and fifths - but after a while these notes get wound tighter and tighter, spinning out in increasingly manic phrases as the momentum of the music becomes more relentless. In one sense, I was trying to be a good boy compositionally and employ strict motivic development to generate this material. At the same time, however, I often regard the task of "developing themes" in my music as a bit of a chore, and I was hoping to reveal a comic or mischievous tone to the music as the initially mundane proceedings gradually overheat and begin to go off the rails. Picture someone trying to read, say, a lengthy piece of legislation to you as you're both going over a series of whitewater rapids, and the effect that your adventure is having on their monologue, and you may see what I'm getting at.
Because these melodies give the impression of going on endlessly, never landing or completing themselves, the title of the piece is an expression of hope on my part: that the unsettled, hyperactive and/or satirical nature of the musical material can be heard as a texture in and of itself, and that the "waiting" on the part of the listener is its own reward. It's a phrase that I feel implies a small amount of bureaucratic absurdity to go along with its generous sentiment, which seems appropriate for this work. It is also an honest and genuine statement of gratitude to my spouse and children, who all did lots of waiting of their own for me while I finished the piece.