Browse Items (868 total)

• Integrated Elements No. 3 "Divide by Five"

  “Divide by Five is a visual and auditory overload that leaves the viewer with a high that is difficult to shake.”
  
  – Adam Castañeda, Houston Dance Source
  
  The Integrated Elements series features solo instruments and pre-recorded sound. The aim of this series is to use the sounds created by instruments, electronically produced sounds, and the sounds made by the human voice or mouth to create an integrated sound world.
  
  Integrated Elements No. 3 “Divide by Five” was commissioned by Kyle Maxwell-Doherty. Kyle has taken several trips to Ghana to study African drumming, dance, and gyil playing with the famed master xylophonist, Bernard Woma. Knowing that there is a well established gyil tradition, I wanted to create a new context for the gyil as opposed to writing more traditional melodies with electronic accompaniment.
  
  The gyil is a fourteen note, pitched, wooden percussion instrument. It is tuned to a pentatonic scale. Thus, the instrument contains two full octaves and a partial octave. It was this idea that lead me to the title, Divide by Five. Underneath the wooden bars of the gyil are suspended, hollowed out gourds that act as resonators. Each gourd contains small holes in its body that are covered with paper. Air forced into the gourds by striking the bars is pushed through the paper which gives the instrument a buzzing sound. This is an odd instrument, from the western perspective, because by definition, its purest sound contains distortion. I took this idea of distortion and applied it to the electronic elements.
  
  The fixed media contains five categories of sounds. Sounds from the instrument itself (shaking the gourds, rubbing the bars, ascending and descending glissandi), electronically produced sounds, sounds from my voice, a series of notes from a prepared piano, and various sounds from the piano itself (knocking on the body, letting the lid drop, and sounding all 88 keys at once). The prepared piano acts as a counterpart to the gyil due to both the inherent distortion in the pure form of the sound and the tuning abnormalities. Many gyils are tuned differently because they are made by different people. There is no such thing as equal temperament in the gyil making community. To make sure this piece has a life beyond the premier performance I made sure not have any specific tonal references to any gyil or any specific tones for that matter. All of the pitches heard in this piece are “out of tune” to accommodate for multiple gyils and multiple tunings.
  
  Lastly, I used the notational system for the gyil presented in the dissertation “Performance Practice of the Dagara-Birifor Gyil Tradition Through the Analysis of the Bewaa and Daarkpen Repertoire” by Dr. Michael Vercelli. As in all other West African traditional music, gyil music is passed through an aural tradition which does not conform to any notational practices. There is a shorthand notation common to Woma’s students but, I think that this notation best displays the harmonic and melodic possibilities of the instrument.

• Failing to Resist

  It was my wife who pointed out to me that I tend to fidget with objects for long periods of time. Feeling, manipulating, figuring them out as if touch were the only sense available to me. The resulting sounds tend to annoy her after some time. It was this vice that became the germ for this piece. Sound sources include a bicycle, foam, paper, metal water canteen, bicycle helmet, a lamp, and my wedding ring taped on a number of different surfaces.

• Passacaglia on a theme by Mark Rothko

  Passacaglia on a theme by Mark Rothko began as an idea I had while sitting at the Menil Collection in Houston, TX looking at four Mark Rothko paintings, all from his color field period. The piece comments on how I look at Rothko’s art and the process my eyes take when dissecting each work. At first, the surface simplicity is very attractive to me. Looking deeper, I notice brush strokes and movement. I am drawn to the outlines of each field and how they straddle the role of background and foreground. I focus on sections of the work; the particular texture, color, role in the work. Finally, I am able to see the work as a whole and how each element functions with the framework.

  This piece is constructed with several processes working at once. First, the passacaglia aspect provides a harmonic background. The chords forming the passacaglia begin as simple three note chords. With each repetition, a new pitch is added. As the piece moves on the chords duration progresses from longer to shorter and more and more noise is introduced to the chords which distorts them. The other sounds come from objects from my kitchen. This is a literal reference to the history of the steel pan (an everyday object becomes an instrument). Also included is the sound of a comb.

  The steel pan functions as an observer, commenting on the sounds with his own. While the part is mostly improvisatory, guidelines such as pitch, ratio, and dynamics are given. At a point just over the middle of the piece, the steel pan enters a process of gradual unfolding of a melody in which the sum of the parts can only be seen at the end and the listener does not know where these parts begin or end.

• now our grief is put away

  now our grief is put away uses the poem titled Khao Lak Paradise Resort by Anne Shaw in her book, Undertow. I found Anne after searching for poets I wanted to set for a different project. This poem leapt off the page with its vivid imagery and haunting descriptions of the tsunami that occurred on December 24, 2004 in the Southeast Pacific which included Thailand, the setting for this poem. Due to its length and singularity of subject, I decided to not include this poem in what would eventually become Transit for soprano, vibraphone, and double bass but rather set the work as its own piece. The poem is filled with Anne’s own description of her experience in the relief efforts, sayings from Thai culture, and descriptions from survivors of the tsunami. Shaw writes, “Thai culture allows a mourning period of 100 days, after which the soul of the departed - and the lives of the living - must move on,” as a description for the line, now our grief is put away.

• The Gate

  The Gate was conceived in conceptual collaboration with dancer and choreographer Ashley Bowman. Ashley and I had been speaking for a few years about writing a piece for string quartet and electronics for the specific purpose of being choreographed. Since the first piece we had ever worked together on was In My Mother’s Garden, we decided to revive the garden theme for this piece as well. As such, The Gate is a programmatic journey through gardens. However, these gardens do not merely consist of flowers and plants. The journey takes place as if in a dream where the rules of reality, while present, can be bent, broken, and completely disregarded. The settings and situations are based on my own reoccurring dreams.

  The journey begins with the character in a “labyrinth” or maze garden. Tall hedges prevent any sense of bearings. The journey consists of decisions en route to the middle of the labyrinth. Once the character has reached the middle, they find “the gate.” A decision of whether or not to pass through it looms and is musically represented by a chord which will return in fixed pitch and register assertion; a chord that presents a question. The character passes through the gate which leads downward; underground.

  The character is immediately ensnared by many vines, aggressively pulling the character downwards. At first, out of shock, the character does not struggle. Then, when their fate is realized, the character begins their attempts to escape. The vines will not release. The clash becomes more violent. Fear pervades the character. Not only do they see their doomed fate before them but, they are battling an opponent completely foreign; an opponent without logic or reason. After many escape attempts (represented musically by the first violin), the character, exhausted and ready to submit to the end, makes one final attempt to break free and does so. Now, a chase in dark tunnels ensues. Just as the vines are about to assail the character, the character leaps out of reach and into space, suspended, without knowing what lays before them.

  The character wakes in a room, the first garden, empty except for objects hanging from the ceiling. No section of ceiling is exposed as pieces of wood, metal, and glass are suspended in a close grid resembling wind chimes. The character begins to explore the space, apprehensive at first and then more playfully. They touch some objects at one end of the room which creates a wave effect throughout the space. A hole in the floor opens revealing clear, blue water. The character jumps in.

  The second garden, an underwater garden, is cultivated by its inhabitants; fish, crustaceans, rays, etc. Though the character is human, they possess the ability to breathe underwater and swim effortlessly. The character dances among the surroundings while sunlight streams down from the surface.

  Just as in the dreams, the surroundings immediately change. The final garden is that of memories. The character finds themselves in a dark empty room with many flickering projections of memories. Home sick and alone, in a unfamiliar place, the character yearns for the security of home. Musically, the movement is almost completely made up of a single sonority.

  The character sees emotional memories and starts looking for a way out of this garden. In this search, hints of the vines return. Suddenly, the room lights up and the character is surrounded by the vines. The chase begins.

  The final iteration of the question chord appears and unlike the previous occurrences, it is now resolved. The resolution is built from the same sonority of the third garden. The sonority of memories of home become the sonority of home as the character escapes and returns back to reality; waking from a dream.

  The Gate

  I. labyrinth
  II. down the rabbit hole
  III. Garden I: suspended from the ceiling
  IV. Garden II: light below the surface
  V. Garden III: memories on the walls and on the floor
  VI. in pursuit

• untangle my tongue

  untangle my tongue (2011) is a piece for fixed media in collaboration with poet, Alix Anne Shaw. We sent each other small samples of new work for use as material to inspire new words or music. After months of trading work back and forth, the piece was realized. Some sounds in the piece are cicadas, cars/trains, text being read by Alix and whispered by Hilary Purrington, and various instrumental sounds.

  The title is taken from Alix's poem inspired by my sounds, Small Bang Theory. It directly references that there is text that is altered, distorted, and overlapped. However, a deeper statement is being made about the current pace of our lives. I am a culprit of this technology and social media-driven lifestyle. Yet, when I went on walks to record sounds for this piece, I was forced to slow down, listen, and be present and engaged in the sounds around me.

• The Lightning Field

  The Lightning Field for baritone, bass clarinet, trumpet, bass trombone, and computer was written for the loadbang ensemble with text by poet, Anne Shaw. The Lightning Field is a land-art work in the western high desert of New Mexico by Walter De Maria. The work consists of 400 stainless steel poles sticking out of the earth in the shape of a grid. The poetry was written during a trip to view the work.  The overriding concepts at play during the compositional process were isolation and introspection. This work is the fifth collaboration between myself and Anne Shaw.

  The four seamless movements track various emotional states that Anne encountered while walking through the field and writing. The third movement exhibits a numerical connection with the original land-art. The first 400 unique words of the poetry were recorded and are played at random creating a murmuring texture above the ensemble. The harmonic material likewise was put through process of my own design, which involves pitch set evolution as opposed to variation. The final movement features Anne’s own voice reading a letter about her time spent at the field while viewing the piece.

• Travelscapes

  Travelscapes is an ongoing series of short fixed media works containing material recorded during vacations, weekend journeys, and day trips. The pieces may be grouped together in any fashion and can also be performed separately. The works not only function as aural snapshots for the composer but also as captured sound moments when technology was absent. On a daily basis, we are surrounded by a sensory overload of technology that we have come to not only tolerate but, embrace. Just as cell phones have made our ability to remember phone numbers obsolete, I wonder if by constantly being bombarded with sound pollution, Muzak, and incessant advertisement we are losing some of our refined listening abilities as a species. I hope in listening to these works, you will find the peace that I attained during the process of recording and realize that listening, in your everyday lives, is a rewarding activity in which to engage.

• Homologic

• Mythical Spaces

  Mythical Spaces explores the intersection of myth and place. Mythical spaces are imaginary, real, natural and human-made. They are the sites of mythical events and bridges to the spiritual world. Sonically, Mythical Spaces captures the essence of each space as well as its mythical significance by reproducing material physicality through the use of a different featured “vessel” in each movement.

  i) Underground
  People and gods used to live underground until they emerged from the depths and into our world. These myths are prevalent in the American southwest as well as the Trobriand Islands. This movement explores the idea of the subterranean world as primordial, where the emergence into our world represents a journey from darkness to light.

  ii) Water
  The “earth-diver” myth, where a being dives to the bottom of the ocean to grab a particle of sand that will be used to create the Earth is one of the most diffuse and common origin myths in the world. This movement sonically retells the narrative of the creation of the Earth—from a single particle to shimmering harmonic landscape.

  iii) Forest
  From Sub-Saharan Africa to Japan, forests are viewed as sacred by cultures worldwide. Animist beliefs imbue the individual elements of the forest with living spirits. These forests may be viewed as natural temples, places where humans can enter the supernatural world. Wind rustling through the trees and an environment rich with the energy of spirits pervade this movement.

  iv) Mountain
  Valhalla, Mt. Everest, Mt. Olympus, Mt. Denali, and Mt. Fuji are examples of mythical and real mountains that are considered sacred. Mountains are home to the gods. Evoking a sense of heroism, this movement contains the sounds of dramatic rumbling gestures broadcast over great distances.

  v) Temple
  Earthly temples have their duplicates in the transcendental sphere—the heavens. The temple represents the efforts of more centralized societies (more “civilized” in the non-pejorative sense) to build a bridge to a mythical place. This movement employs sounds of sacred instruments and a strong element of ritual that constructs a ceremony of transcendence.

  Mythical Spaces was written in 2010 for percussionist Shawn Savageau.