ORCHESTRA
Clunker Concerto (2011/2013)
for percussion quartet on junk car parts and orchestra
19 minutes
Commissioned and premiered by the American Composers Orchestra (George Manahan, Music Director) and LINE C3 Percussion (Zankel Hall, Carnegie Hall). Subsequent performances by Contemporaneous (David Bloom, conductor), Kaufman Music Center Face the Music (David Bloom, conductor), and SUNY Purchase Orchestra (Ransom Wilson, Music Director)
Performance by SUNY Purchase Orchestra.
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When starting Clunker Concerto, my first impulse was to write a raucous, in-your-face piece in which a junk car is broken down into its constituent parts, creating an arsenal of new and abrasive junk percussion instruments. And while there is still plenty of that clangor in Clunker, as I began to explore the array of junk I’d acquired on my several trips to the local junkyard, it dawned on me that it might be more fruitful to not just use the junk as a means of adding extra grit to the orchestra, but to delve as deeply as possible into the subtleties of each junk instrument in order to see what sounds might be coaxed out of them, and how the orchestra could respond to and interact with those sounds.
Whether it is a tam-tam made of sheet metal whose pitch spectrum informs the orchestral harmonies played against it, or the acoustic beating of two closely-tuned car wheels mimicked by woodwind multiphonics, or even the inherent pitch abilities (or more aptly, limitations) of a bowed fender being used to determine the orchestra’s melody notes; I try to explore the nuances and capabilities of each junk instrument as carefully as I would were I writing for a violin, clarinet, or any other traditional instrument. The result is a rather “unpercussiony” percussion concerto – just as often as items are struck with mallets and hammers, they are bowed, scraped and massaged. (The bowed fender goes so far as to involve bowing with the right hand while fingering the fender like a fretboard with the left; this allows the bowed pitch to be adjusted by a semitone, which ultimately turns it into a fully chromatic instrument!) I was happy to discover that by using the idiosyncratic and often wonky natures of the junk instruments as a starting point, I was able to come up with musical ideas I would have never otherwise thought of. Much of these ideas focus on seeking out the common timbral ground between these unusual junk sounds and those of the orchestra, and finding ways to fuse those two sound worlds as deeply
as possible. The other, more playful, side of the piece, is its desire to capture the rickety, hobbling nature of a junk car. The music sputters along through off-kilter grooves, has abrupt shifts in tempo akin to an old car haltingly changing gears, and features belligerent and uncouth orchestrations.
Though some of the junk used in Clunker Concerto is unlikely to catch on (few orchestras have access to psychedelically painted VW Bug hoods), most of what I have used is readily available in any junkyard.
Furthermore, many of the junk instruments turned out to be surprisingly robust and versatile, which gives me hope that some of them will become more common additions to percussion ensembles and orchestral percussion sections in the future. Perhaps there is room for a bowed hubcap orchestra somewhere.
Documentary videos on the making of the piece.
Emerald Oasis (2019)
for orchestra
9 minutes
Commissioned by the Redlands Symphony Orchestra (Ransom Wilson, Music Director)
Click link on right to listen to premiere performance on the Redlands Symphony website.
Excerpts from performance by the Lamont Symphony Orchestra (Lawrence Golan, director)
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Driving through the American West and Southwest, much of what one sees are long stretches of beautiful, harsh, and uninterrupted desert. But occasionally, the desert is punctuated by inviting bits of lush greenery that seem to almost impossibly burst forth from the dry landscape. These are often signs of civilization (a city, a golf course) though other times they are natural formations (a sudden change in flora, an unexpected riverbank). While beautiful on their own, these unexpected shocks of green are all the more enchanting because of the way they stand in relief to their surroundings. Emerald Oasis is inspired by these experiences of seeing something beautiful and bountiful come out of a seemingly inhospitable environment.
The pulsing and expansive music that opens the piece captures the feeling of driving through the open desert – the steady speed; the expansiveness, peacefulness, and beauty of the surroundings; and the danger of being in an unforgiving natural environment. This opening music transforms into something lush, tender, and intimate – a musical oasis. The final third of the piece is a triumphant celebration in which the musical ideas from the beginning and middle of the piece come into joyful focus.
Noise Gate (2013)
for orchestra
10 minutes.
Commissioned by John Adams for the Cabrillo Festival (Marin Alsop, Music Director). Premiered at the Cabrillo Festival (Carolyn Kuan, conductor). Subsequent performance by the University of Northern Colorado Orchestra.
Recording by University of Northern Colorado Orchestra.
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One of my favorite aspects about living in Los Angeles is the speed with which I can move from a bustling urban environment to a vibrant natural one. In less than ten minutes, I can get from my home to a point on canyon trail in which I cannot see or hear anything man-made.
Though the natural beauty of these trails is inspiring itself, what I find most fascinating is observing the process of my ears recalibrating themselves from the sounds of the city to the sounds of nature. At first, I seem to hear nothing. Then, I realize that what I thought was silence was not: I notice the most prominent bird calls, then the quieter ones, the wind, and finally, small animals rustling in nearby bushes. If I sit motionless on a rock, the rustling animals will get closer and louder as they forget that I am there. Before much time has passed, I find that the sounds of nature seem to become just as loud and complex as those from the city, but with an entirely different character and purpose. I always find this experience transfixing and invigorating, and Noise Gate takes its shape and energy from it.
The piece begins with a blast of urban assault, capturing the excitement, grandeur, and overwhelming character of life in the city. After these opening minutes, the piece gradually passes through the noise gate; as the music becomes quieter and the more bombastic parts recede, new textures and colors emerge that could never have been heard in the opening section. These ideas become the focal point in the spare, playful, and incredibly quiet middle section; gurgling gestures briefly poke their heads out of a barely audible tapestry of sound that lies beneath. As our ears adjust to this new level of sound, the gurgling ideas become more pronounced and insistent, until what seemed like vague silence has developed into an equally dense and exciting musical space as the opening of the piece. The piece ends with the suggestion of the inevitable return back to urban life.
A noise gate is computer hardware or software that is used to control the volume of an audio signal. Any signal which is below a certain threshold will be completely eliminated, thus removing the quieter "noise" from the final product. One could imagine the form of this piece beginning with a noise gate with a high threshold that is then gradually lowered as the loudest sounds disappear, allowing the more delicate ones to come through.