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My #1 Hack for Creative Productivity

heathersavage1

I get a lot done. Most people are astounded – and sometimes overwhelmed – by how much I do in a day, week or month. In this post, I will share my number one productivity hack.

Right now, I am

  • – teaching 12 credits at the local university (3 theory classes and a gen-ed music appreciation class. I have 100 students altogether.)
  • – the pianist at my church, which means a weekly choir rehearsal and Sunday morning services
  • – have a few concerts coming up accompanying local school choruses
  • – finishing up a chamber opera I’ve been composing
  • – continually making instructional videos for the online piano program I have for adult piano learners
  • – making plant medicine regularly (I am an herbalist.)

I often joke that I am like a dog that needs a lot of exercise, and if I don’t get enough, I will start chewing the shoes.

I have a lot of energy to burn off.

This is a characteristic I’ve had all my life. My mother sent me to preschool when I was three years old because I was driving her nuts at home.

So, why am I talking about a productivity hack? If I naturally have high amounts of energy, how is that a hack?

Productivity requires energy management

In recent weeks and months, I’ve come to realize that while I naturally have a lot of energy, there is also a way that I maintain energy. A high-capacity battery still needs recharging.

The way I renew my energy is the hack for getting so much done.

It’s not just about a good night’s sleep powering my whole day. It’s the mini recharges throughout my day that keep my energy up and help me be so productive.

One of the biggest drains on energy is hitting roadblocks or “getting stuck” in your creative project.

In his book The Creative Act, Rick Rubin talks about the technique of “distraction” to solve creative problems. If you get stuck in your project, go do something else. Allow yourself to be “distracted.” Let your mind wander a bit, and the solution will come.

I don’t particularly like the term “distraction” for a couple of reasons.

First, this method is intentional. Distractions are generally not intentional.

Second, it is purposeful. True distractions don’t have a lot of purpose.

I prefer the term “redirection.”

And “redirection” is my hack.

I experience rejuvenation through redirection.

I have used this technique since I was a teenager, if not earlier. No one taught it to me that I can remember. It’s just something I do and have always done.

It took me a while to realize that this is a “hack” that I could explain to other people and maybe help them to be more productive.

So, what is “redirection”?

Redirection is simply pausing what you are currently doing when you hit a roadblock or get frustrated and doing something different for a while.

Instead of trying to push through and beating my head against the wall, I step away.

(Now, mind you, there are some occasions when I will try to push through, but most of the time I walk away.)

What are the roadblocks? These are some examples

  • – Being too tired
  • – Having no good ideas
  • – Feeling down
  • – Questioning the worthiness of the work
  • – Making a lot of mistakes that aren’t improving with practice or reworking
  • – Experiencing feelings of overwhelm or anxiety

Time to stop.

But simply taking a break is not redirection and doesn’t help with productivity.

Redirection means doing something different while you’re taking a break from the other activity.

I have rules for my redirection.

The new activity must be purposeful. It must be rejuvenating. It must make me feel good.

Getting a small task completed will give me a hit of dopamine. A quick walk outside will fill me with good air and sunshine. Meditation will quiet my mind and unblock energy flow in the body. A nap will help if I am physically exhausted.

Some other redirects for me might be organizing my papers, taking a shower or bath, practicing piano instead of composing (or vice versa), working on my herbs, or baking.

Doomscrolling or randomly watching TV is not redirection.

After redirecting for some time, I have found I can come back to the original project and look at it again with a fresh perspective. Perhaps a solution came to my mind while I was engaged in another activity.

At the very least, I am reenergized to tackle the problem again.

Keep track and have a plan

Redirection is not an escape. In a way, it is a form of self-soothing.

It is not wrong to want to feel good, and it is important to notice when we are feeling bad.

If we notice that our mood, energy or motivation is waning, or our stress, anxiety or overwhelm is increasing, we know we need a break.

The trick is to take the temperature of how we’re feeling and then redirect in ways that are healthful and not harmful to us.

Most of the time, it is not possible to take a long break, like a vacation, whenever we want. (And, honestly, vacations all the time will not help productivity.)

So, we need to know what activities are mini boosts for us that we can turn to anytime we need to replenish our reserves.

A redirect does not have to be long. Sometimes just fifteen minutes of doing something else is sufficient.

Creativity is demanding. It requires a great deal of time, focus, mental energy and emotional vulnerability.

It is essential that we be able to replenish our soul’s nutrients the same way athletes replenish their electrolytes after sweating so much.

Having a ready list of small tasks and quick enjoyable activities and self-care practices can help us get breaks without losing momentum.

How do I get so much done?

I keep my energy up through redirection, and I make sure my redirection is purposeful, rejuvenating and makes me feel good.

I don’t rest by doing nothing, but by doing something different.

All those moments of doing something different for a little while add up to accomplishing a lot.

For more thoughts on creativity, visit this post: Creativity Is a Mindset.

Please share your thoughts below! How do you get unstuck and stay productive?

The Case for Program Notes

heathersavage1

To write, or not to write…. program notes. That is the question.

In conversations with composers, the question of whether or not to write program notes often arises.

I am firmly in the camp of “Yes, write program notes.”

I don’t even think that it is optional. In fact, I think composers should write program notes.

Does the music speak for itself?

I get pushback on this opinion. The one single argument I have heard against writing program notes is that “the music should speak for itself.”

Composers who say this have argued that audience members should be able to come to the music on their own terms and create their own meaning, without being influenced or biased by the composer’s ideas.

I find this argument to be insufficient, however.

I wonder if these composers believe that audience members are not having personal experiences with other types of art.

In musical theater productions, the characters, set and storyline are clearly laid out. Art museums contain pieces of representative visual art. Authors describe and name characters in novels.

Even music with a general, non-programmatic title like “sonata” or “fugue” that is tonal and has a traditional form tells the audience how to think about it.

The argument only works for extremely abstract works.

Who is the audience?

Are they trying to appeal to a general audience of music listeners, or are they trying to reach a niche audience with the prior knowledge to be able to come in “blind,” find obscure connections in the music and make sense of it?

I suppose an audience well-versed in abstract music might enjoy having no guidance about the music they are about to hear beyond the instrumentation and the names of the performers.

To me, it sounds like an extreme escape room. No theme, no idea what the time limit is, no clues.

It also sounds like taking a tour without a tour guide.

If I take a tour in a new city, I expect a guide. I can’t possibly be expected to add my own meaning or make a personal connection, know why certain buildings are significant, or anything about the history of the area.

If there was no guide, I would be angry, wondering what the point was, feeling like I wasted my time, and resentful I spent my money on it

I’d leave, vowing to never have that experience again.

I have heard on a few classical music podcasts that 90% of first-time audience members do not return.

I have also learned through business courses I’ve taken that “confused audiences do not buy.”

Program notes can reduce confusion

Program notes may not address every reason why a first-time audience member might feel confused about the concert experience, but they can reduce confusion about the pieces.

Composers and performers of new music need to treat every audience as if it is full of first-time concertgoers.

Because they are first-time listeners of the music performed.

Even if a piece has been premiered, it is not well-known like the pieces that have made it into the collective canon of repertoire. Much of it has not been recorded, and it definitely has not had widespread listenership.

The audience is coming to it without any prior knowledge, especially if they do not already know the composer. And chances are, they don’t.

I have worked in community music for most of my musical career, which means that I have spent a lot of time with music afficianados.

These are people who love music, actively participate in making music at an amateur level, and often attend concerts of all kinds of music, including classical.

But most of those concerts will be full of more traditional, tonal repertoire.

Yet, I get them to listen to – and enjoy – my music, which often brings in atonality and extended techniques.

How do I do this?

Program notes.

Program notes can increase listeners’ enjoyment

The other night, I had a concert and performed my piece Bridges, for solo piano.

The 1st movement is all quartal/quintal harmony. The 2nd movement is atonal. The third movement is a minuet mash-up of an altered “You’re A Grand Old Flag” with the slave song, “Ain’t Got No Money” which alternates between straight and swung 16ths. And the fourth movement is more “classical” with a lot of 16th note runs, but does not follow the rules of functional harmony.

It’s a bit of a strange piece. But they loved it.

Why? Program notes.

One audience member excitedly told me that she had never been to a concert where the program notes were written out with such detail. She said being able to read through them was super helpful.

Another person told me that he could close his eyes and see everything I had written about. He could see the water, the traffic, the old-timey bridge, and the gilded mansions.

Program notes do not interfere with personal meaning

But providing program notes doesn’t mean that listeners did not bring themselves to the piece.

Another man told me he closed his eyes and, even though he had read the program notes, what came to his mind was something entirely different.

Awesome!

Another woman told me about her favorite part of the piece, the musical effect of deep notes in the piano, and didn’t mention the program notes at all.

I have had similar experiences when presenting pieces that incorporate extended techniques.

Program notes offer benefits with no drawbacks

When I have told my listeners what to listen for, they hear it.

Then the music makes sense. Then they feel smart, and they feel good. They have something they can remember and take home from the experience.

Especially when presenting new music to the average listener who might not be familiar with more modern compositional techniques, program notes can explain the “weirdness.”

And if the audience understands why the “weirdness” is there, they accept it and enjoy it for the purpose it fulfills.

The program notes are there for the audience members who want them. Those who don’t want them won’t read them. And people will come up with their own ideas, anyway.

So, why not just provide them?

They can reduce confusion among new listeners and increase the connection audience members make with the music (and the performers and composer.)

What is your take on program notes? Let me know in the comments!

Art for Hope’s Sake

heathersavage1

Sitting around with artists discussing art is a very special experience.

I have been doing this on a regular basis the last couple of months through working on a collaborative project with a visual artist and a poet.

We each bring a unique perspective to the topic, not only because of our different personalities but because our modes of creating change how we perceive and communicate about art.

Our project is about hope. Hope through storms. Hope through tragedy.

Initially inspired by environmental catastrophes like Hurricane Helene and California wildfires in 2024, the project encompasses much more than that. It also is about war, injustice, and civil unrest.

Last week, we were talking about how art is an act of resistance. Hope, also, is an act of resistance.

It’s not necessarily a political resistance, though it could be.

More broadly, it is a resistance against despair. Against cynicism.

This week, I read a couple of newsletters which directly address this topic.

Benjamin Cremer wrote in Why Do the Wicked Prosper? that hope sustains resistance.

He continues,

This is where hope still lives. Not in denial, not in silence, but in faithful refusal. Hope looks like lament that tells the truth…Hope looks like compassion that does not grow numb.

Dr. Russell Moore wrote in Don’t Weaponize Your Patience about the need for “hopeful patience” which “recognizes delayed outcomes but does not decay expectations.”

He says,

Hopeful patience does not refuse to bear witness. 

It is “full of lament but not despair.

Later, he comments that

a waiting that isn’t energized by both hope and lament will lose heart—and give up.

A waiting that isn’t energized by both hope and lament will lose heart – and give up.

That reminds me of Proverbs 13:12 which says that hope deferred makes a heart sick.

The newsletters I read this week fell right in line with what Mary, Cara and I were discussing in regard to our project.

Our project follows this very path of lament and hope.

It is an artistic remembering. An acknowledgement of difficult times. Telling the truth. Refusing to dismiss suffering as either normal, excusable, invalid, or insignificant.

At the same time, we don’t stay there in the pit. Artistically, we point to a time of renewal. Where seeds sprout in the rich soil left behind by sediment and ash.

Life comes again even after death. The human spirit will be revived.

This week, a friend reminded me of Olivier Messiaen’s piece Quartet for the End of Time, which he wrote and performed with other prisoners while he was in a camp during WW2.

Art helps people get through difficult times, at once acknowledging adversity while also uplifting the spirit by pointing toward what is beyond. When safety, freedom and peace come again.

Art is an act of defiance that refuses to let the darkness define us.

Artists, we may not always be at the front lines of the fight against oppression, and we may not be the first responders in a tragedy.

But this we are called to do: sustain hope and combat cynicism and despair.

Onward we go!

Three Lessons Learned in 2025

heathersavage1

At the close of this year, I am reflecting on lessons I learned in 2025. As I get older, it becomes more difficult to find new things I learned, versus re-experiencing old adages that I have known for quite a while. However, 2025 did teach me some new things, at least in ways that seem new to me. Because even though I am a bit older, I am still an “emerging” composer, still experiencing “firsts” in my music career. So, here are three lessons I learned in 2025.

First Lesson Learned in 2025

Opportunities come from unexpected places.

We are familiar with the adage, “you reap what you sow” which means that if you plant beans, you will harvest beans, not squash. But this isn’t necessarily the case in art careers. We know that success is not linear. But it also doesn’t necessarily come directly from what we’re working on.

In early 2026, a couple of professional orchestras will perform my work. In January, the South Bend Symphony will perform my piece Daughter of the Stars, for string orchestra. The Arkansas Philharmonic will perform my piece Arethusa in February. I sought out neither of these opportunities. Along the way, I submitted my scores to various calls, but none of the calls involved either of these ensembles. I knew about South Bend because I interviewed their principal oboist, Jennet Ingle, on my podcast in 2022 when I first started it. But I didn’t even know the Arkansas Phil even existed.

While I was quietly doing my thing, Jennet put my piece forward as a selection for a concert she curated. I had no idea until the decision had been made and the orchestra librarian reached out to me to purchase the score and parts!

Then, truly out of the blue, Rob – a friend I had been in high school band with and hadn’t talked to in 30 years! – reached out to me, asking for a score that he could share with the maestro at Arkansas Phil. Completely unbeknownst to me, Rob was on the orchestra’s board of directors.

I am exceedingly grateful to both Jennet and Rob for putting my name and my work forward.

It was a total surprise, because like I said, I was not trying to pursue these opportunities or in any way “make” them happen.

I believe that you have to be doing “the work” in order to have opportunities, but the type or timing of opportunities that arrive can’t always be predicted. When opportunity knocks, you need to be dressed and ready to go as if you’ve been expecting the opportunity all along!

Second Lesson Learned in 2025

Growth can take place underground and unseen – for a long time.

I’m a gardener, and there is a phenomenon with perennial plants. The saying goes, “First year, sleep; second year, creep; third year, leap!” Essentially, when you first put a perennial plant in the ground, you should not expect to see much happening. It takes time, because the roots grow first and establish the plant. That can take a couple of years. You might see a little growth the 2nd year, but it is not until the 3rd year (and sometimes later) where the plant is fully grown and bursts with flowers or fruit.

This happened when I planted raspberries. Raspberries notoriously take over, but it’s not noticeable at first. The first year I planted ten canes. In the second year, twenty canes grew up. The third year, one hundred canes emerged, beyond the fence and twenty feet away from where I originally planted them.

This idea applies to pieces, too, but the process can take longer. And, like plants, the pieces need tending.

I wrote Daughter of the Stars in 2018.

I recorded it and submitted it to various calls for scores. The North/South Consonance premiered it in 2019. It won 2nd place in the 2020 American Prize for Composition (pops/light music division.) The pro recording I made was presented at the online Society for Composers Inc national conference when it was held online during the COVID shutdowns. I placed it on the Texas Prescribed Music List. It was performed at the 2023 Georgia All-State Festival. One high school group took it to Carnegie Hall when they participated in a festival there. I’ve made a few sales online through MyScore at JW Pepper, but because of the way things are done, I have no idea who purchased them or if the piece even got performed.

It also got rejected a bunch of times.

I saw a little growth, but I had no idea how much was really happening. The performance by South Bend Symphony is a big deal because, to my knowledge, it will be the 1st concert to include my work where an audience member must buy a ticket to attend.

I wrote Arethusa in 2023, which wasn’t as long ago. But it has faced bigger hurdles. Many times, the piece did not fit the available instrumentation in a Call for Scores, so I could not submit it. And the ones I did submit it to? Rejected, rejected, rejected. It won 2nd place in the Reno Pops Orchestra 2024 Composer’s Showcase, but the performance fell through. Then more rejection.

On the surface, nothing was happening. Nothing.

This only made Rob’s phone call and the resulting upcoming performance by the APO so much sweeter. It will be the first performance of one of my pieces be a full orchestra.

You can’t give up. It is very hard to look at bare soil for a long time. But you must keep believing that because you have been faithful to plant and water that the seed will grow.

Someone might even come along and help you water it!

Third Lesson Learned in 2025

If you want to be an artist, you must do what’s good for your art.

This is probably a “reinforced” lesson, not a new one. But it is relevant, none the less.

Every time I write a new piece, I have another plant in my garden. They each need attention. Are they getting enough water, enough light? Are weeds growing up and threatening to smother them? I keep nurturing my pieces by making sure I submit them to Calls for Scores, that I continually seek out performances, that I keep mentioning them to people who could perform them. I can’t forget about them just because I added a new piece to the catalog.

Maintaining my creative environment is also important. Is the soil good for growing plants?

Just over a year ago, I moved out of the “city” further into the “country.” Instead of being in a townhouse amidst a lot of stores, cars and traffic lights, I’m now in a small house on a half-acre. It takes me longer to get to church and school, but the drive is worth it.

Now, no matter what direction I look, I can see mountains. I find the landscape very inspiring, and I believe it helps me be more productive.

Is it a coincidence that these opportunities have shown up since I moved? Julia Cameron, who wrote The Artist’s Way, would say no. She calls this synchronicity. I did something for my art, and “the Universe” rewarded me.

I hope these lessons I’ve learned from 2025 inspire you in your artistic journey. Don’t give up. Keep nurturing your art, even when you can’t immediately see growth. It might pop up where you aren’t expecting it, like the raspberries on the other side of the fence far from where I planted them.

What creative projects are you working on? Let me know in the comments!

Is “Practice” a Dirty Word?

heathersavage1

I recently read a post on Substack by Ted Gioia (of The Honest Broker), who writes on music and culture and is a past faculty member at Stanford.

His article a few weeks ago outlined a few complaints he had about music education, specifically in the realm of private lessons, and I felt they needed a rebuttal. So, here it is.

Ted believes that kids lose interest in music lessons as they get older because there are inherent problems in the way that music is taught. I will not disagree completely with that idea, but I will make a caveat that it depends on the kid.

The biggest complaint I have about Ted’s arguments however, is that he makes claims that do not make sense when comparing music to sports. Many of my students have straddled participation in sports and music in elementary school but, in high school, decided to go the sports route. If Ted’s complaints about music education were correct, kids would also quit sports for the same reasons.

Let me explain.

This is Ted’s first complain, in his own words:

“(1) The first problem is that they’re called lessons. Music-making is fun, but music lessons are something very different. The first change I’d make is eliminating the word lesson from my vocabulary. I’d get rid of the word practicing too.

And fortunately we already have a better word—it’s called playing. You play your instrument, and the experience is one of fun and playfulness.”

Yes, we play music, and sports enthusiasts play sports.

But I played on the school basketball team in 8th grade, and basketball practice was called practice. And we did boring things like run laps around the court. And we did hard things like agility drills. And, yes, they were called drills.

We didn’t do those things because they were “play” or because we found them “fun,” We did them because we trusted our coach to make us better players, and he said we needed to do these things if we wanted to get good and win games.

And when kids practice scales and arpeggios and etudes on their instruments, it is because they believe the teacher when they teacher says these exercises will make them better players.

The problem is not drills or practicing or hard or boring things. Practice is not a dirty word.

It’s about whether or not the student believes that these things will get them to where they want to be. Maybe some kids just don’t want to get that good and play at a level that demands this kind of practice.

I quit basketball. I didn’t care enough and music was more important to me.

This is Ted’s second point”

(2) Music carries the heavy baggage of the entire education bureaucracy, and this makes everything boring and burdensome. As Paul Graham has rightly pointed out, the single biggest impact of early education is to convince students that hard work is pointless and should be avoided at all costs. Too much of homework and testing is designed solely for the purpose of convincing a teacher of your competency. The idea that you might work hard for your own benefit is never taught in school, and many people never realize that important fact.

Music lessons suffer because they rely on similar metrics, and are often integrated into our bureaucratic educational system. So even something intrinsically fun (like music-making) starts to feel burdensome.

I honestly have to say I don’t even know what he is talking about here. What metrics? The metrics of practicing a lot so you can win an audition in the local regional or state-wide youth orchestra that you find fun to be in? I would say that kids in music DO learn that they get personal benefit from learning music.

That is, as long as their teacher gives them some agency, and most do!

Kids who learn the pieces they want to learn or work towards goals they want to achieve realize they are getting themselves there with hard work and proper guidance.

Ted’s 3rd complaint:

(3) Parents are part of the problem—maybe the biggest part. Suzuki, the great music education innovator, realized this early on. He found that parents imposed all sorts of negative attitudes on to their children. They yelled at them to practice more. They sat in judgment at recitals. They had vague ambitions about how their children’s performances would enhance their own status. Etc.

Is this not also a problem in sports? How many times have we heard parents scream at their kids for not catching a ball or making a mistake on the field? How many times have parents ended up in the news for making a scene at a kid’s sports game? Perhaps it has died down in recent years (or maybe others news has become more important given the political climate…)

But it is ingenuine, in my opinion, to claim that this is a problem in music when it is a problem in all categories of life. Sure, kids that feel pressure from parents may want to quit anything. But why is this a problem in music education? Couldn’t this also be why kids want to quit school or sports or working for the family business?

Ted’s complaint #4:

(4) The endless round of recitals, auditions, and competitions create a perfection-driven culture that diminishes—and often kills—the sheer joy of music-making. Ethnomusicologists have studied many societies where everybody participates joyously in music-making—but that only happens when you don’t have auditions and competitions to weed out poor performers. If the goal is to enhance your inner joy and satisfaction, you would do things very differently.

Endless round of recitals, auditions and competitions? I suppose when the entire year is considered, there is always something to be preparing for, whether it is a spring recital or early fall auditions for local ensembles or late-fall auditions to All-State or early-winter applications to summer music festivals.

That’s IF – and a huge IF – the student is playing at a high level and wants to get into these ensembles and festivals and so forth. It is certainly not a requirement that the average music student do all this competing!

And if the teacher requires it, time to find a new teacher!

This is a parent problem if they don’t find an appropriate teacher for their kid.

That said, all the preparation for competitions is a great preparation for life. For adulthood.

There are always deadlines at work. Does everyone want to quit their job because of them? Or do some people understand that there is an ebb and flow and some weeks or months are extra stressful because of looming deadlines and accept it as part of the job?

But, even more – aren’t SPORTS full of competition? Isn’t that the WHOLE POINT of being involved in sports – to try to win? People don’t just get on the field and run around aimlessly. Even if it is a good-natured game where it doesn’t matter who wins, the teams do try to win.

To say that music is all about competition is also terribly ignorant. There are many, many ensembles that are “no audition” ensembles. Community orchestras, bands and choruses for youth and adults can be found in most places.

They are one big team “winning” by learning and performing music together.

One of my favorite things about music is that no one is left on the bench. The whole ensemble plays together. If you are in an ensemble, you are always with the ensemble, even when you have measures of rest, even if you are not the best.

(OK, I know, I know. Depending on the ensemble, some pieces do not use all the forces. So let’s just think one piece at a time.)

And, let me be frank. I have been in groups where some people are not trying to improve (sports or music or group assignments in school or group projects at work.) Those people are wasting everyone’s time.

We should all be in competition with ourselves to be a better person than we were yesterday.

Competition is not a bad thing, in and of itself.

Ted’s complaint #5:

(5) The ultra-intense hype on music lessons as building blocks of high educational achievement just aggravates the situation. Sure, I believe all the hype about the links between music-making and improved academic performance. Music probably does activate and nurture the same part of the brain you use for math and science. You probably do get better grades if you’re a focused, dedicated musician. But this kind of attitude treats the music itself as a negligible byproduct, instead of celebrating the intrinsic joy of music-making.

If you learn music for this reason, you will never get the greatest benefits from it, which can’t be reduced to a GPA or SAT metric.

NO ONE is telling little 6yr old Johnny, “Dear, you need to study piano so you can grow up and ace your SATs.”

The argument for the academic benefits of music are aimed at adults, because we’re trying to keep funding for music education in public schools. Even if this is the reason parents put their kids in music lessons, they are not trying to explain this to their little kids who would have no idea what they’re talking about.

And if it is the only reason why parents are keeping their children in music lessons when their kids have no interest, see point #3.

Finally, Ted’s complaint #6:

(6) The Western classical music tradition is amazing, and I cherish it every day of my life, but an educational system that just focuses exclusively on scrupulously playing note-for-note compositions written by people who died long ago is a mistake. If you want to convince people that music is stagnant, you couldn’t find a better method. Let’s keep Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, and all the rest—I love them dearly; but let’s also embed them into a larger practice that is alive and vibrant.

I have to mention here that Ted is a jazzer. So, there is a bias here against the classical approach to playing every note exactly right the way the composer wrote it.

That said, there is some truth here. Classical music is still alive and well, but the system has focused on the music of dead, white men instead of what is happening now, and instead of broadening the variety of historical composers’ work.

However, that is slowly changing. Every day, new ensembles are formed that focus on performing new and lesser-known historical works. Organizations exist, like the Boulanger Initiative, that work to bring attention to women composers or composers of under-represented groups.

I find that Ted’s 6th point is two-fold, though. One point is about the “dead composers.” And the other point is about “playing every note exactly right.”

Here, we have to be careful not to denigrate the focus on playing every note scrupulously well. While I think it is important to protect the minds of young people against perfectionism, the exactness of classical music is incredible mental training.

Paying attention to so many details is a very high-level skill, and it is something that is demanded in many fields. We want our surgeons and engineers to have that level of precision!

And, classical music is not the only “fun” area where precision is judged. Think about gymnastics or figure skating where competitors are judged on how they land a jump.

So, again, it is not right to point these things out as problems in music education when they are part-and-parcel of many areas of life including other “fun” things like sports.

Not only are these things not real problems, many of them are incredibly beneficial.

The fun is in figuring out the puzzle. The fun is in the problem solving. The fun is in conquering what you can’t do today. The fun is being able to say, “I can do that.”

Music lessons help kids with this.

The question is whether or not kids want to study music, and whether or not they are with the right teacher. Don’t force them to study music if they’re not interested. And find them the right teacher if they are.

Guest Post: Shifting Gears – Driving Over Mountains & Driving a Music Business

heathersavage1

The following is a guest post by a new acquaintance and fellow musician, W. Paul Pulsipher. He suggested a collaboration, part of which involves swapping blog posts, and I said, “Why not?” So, here it is. Paul’s essay is a testimony of how his adventures in pursuing his goals in music business have parallelled his faith journey. You can find his contact information at the end of the essay.

The last several years of my musical career have taken some unexpected turns for me. I’ve been playing piano for over 30 years, writing music for almost as long, I do amateur guitar, a little vocals and percussion. Anyone who’s been doing music for as long as I have should know by now to expect the unexpected when you are trying to accomplish something you’ve never done before. After you’ve learned to drive and you take your first big road trip you notice things about the journey that you never would have if you were only the passenger. The same thing has happened with me recently in both long distance driving and in trying to drive my music business forward; and before I really dive in, let me clarify there will be a lot of “we had plans and then God had better plans” throughout this.

When I began my Associates Degree in Music Recording Technology at Salt Lake Community College, I found out that I would need to take two music business classes in order to complete the program. I thought, “great, that’s what I want to do anyways.” At the very beginning of the first one when we were talking about the financial, social and personal impact of starting a music business, I thought I would just dive in head first and see if I could swim. I registered a new business name with the State and just got busy trying to apply the marketing skills I was learning in that class right away. It took a while to gain any momentum and I learned through trial and error (more often error at first) about volume, what a good sales pitch looks like and how to balance catering to the masses while still staying true to my own artistic expression. I learned from a conversation with a Youtube star that gone are the days when you can just approach a talent agent and say, in a manner of speaking, “hey, sell me!” You have to build up your own solid content, followers, subscribers on social media, or whatever else you think you would want an agent to help you sell and then go and basically say to them “I have tons of awesome content for you to use to help sell me and make something from it as well, let’s team up!”

So that is what I started doing. You can find out just how much work I’ve done in that department with the links at the bottom of this page. Fast forward about two years as I graduated from SLCC with a newly developing skill set in composition, recording, mixing, production, songwriting and all that stuff. At first I was confident this was how I wanted to continue, and be done with school. I had spent a long time in a prior season on my life proselytizing the Christian faith, knocking on doors, learning how to approach complete strangers and relate our collective life experiences to any desired subject matter, so surely I could work hard, get into the good old “pounding the pavement” habit and grow my professional presence there in Northern Utah. This is where I begin to get to the “God had better plans” part of this.

After finishing at SLCC, my wife Collette had asked me if I had any intentions of completing another two years to finish a bachelors. In response I kind of poked around with no serious intention of continuing on with more school, but, again, God had better plans than me. You know how it goes with Universities. You send even a whimsical email to a school just kind of poking around to see what they offer, and once you’re in the system, you are “in the system” and they don’t stop emailing you. Well SUU sent me one of those emails and one of them happened to be about their marching band. I had sort of a pleasant, nostalgic laugh about it at first because I was the Pit section leader in my high school marching band about 20 years prior and we won state two years in a row back in the day. I forwarded the email to Collette joking that if we ever when there that might be fun. Her response kind of shocked me. She said she felt the Holy Ghost very clearly say we were supposed to go there! 

What!? I was kidding! *Looks up* Really, God? Um… okay I guess! But You’re going to have to make this happen financially because we absolutely do not have the funds to make a move like that anytime soon. It really shocked us both because she loved her job teaching pre-school and did not want to move. I took a leap of faith and registered for fall classes at SUU and, thanks to one miracle after another, a lot of faith and support from family and friends and donating a lot of plasma, we made it down to Cedar City, Utah. We barely made it by for the first little while. Collette’s new job actually ended up falling through because of a really stupid, careless lie from the hiring crew, so we had to rely on welfare type services to get us through our first few months while she found a more sustainable income (which she did) as I continued school in fall of 2023.

It was shifting gears socially, professionally and geographically. But we made it! But during my first two semesters at SUU, things took a turn that actually made me really nervous me at first. I had entered their relatively new Commercial Music program with the intention of getting into their Masters of Music Technology afterwards and then moving back up to Northern Utah where we already had established a strong social and musical network we could easily return to. In my first few semesters of conversations with Dr. Tebbs (head of Commercial Music there), my intent to enter that Master’s program came up one day in his office. Among other things, he mentioned that his observations of my learning style made him think I would do better in an in-person learning environment rather than the online program they had. He was quick to clarify “don’t get me wrong, we have a really good program here, but I wonder if it’s really right for you or not?” After some deliberation, he sort of began to wrap things up by saying, “well, regardless of what you do if you even get a masters degree or not, I think you would do really well professionally in Nashville.” I was a little blown away by his confidence in my abilities and, upon my doubting that out loud, he doubled down and said Nashville would love my Contemporary Christian composition and songwriting style. Well, I was thankful for his confidence, but mentally brushed it off again. But then I walked out of his office and felt the Holy Ghost say very clearly, “I told him to say that.”

Again, I looked up again and thought “What?!… are we doing this again?! Well, okay, but once again You’re going to have to make this work financially because, once again, there is no way we are in a financial place to make this happen on our own any time soon.” This was not just a 300 mile trip within the state. We’re talking about a distance more than 5 times that over the mountains and to a place where neither of us knew anyone at all. I talked about it with Collette and, once again, she got a first impression that surprised her, too, that we were supposed to move in the Spring of 2025 right after I graduated. So we trusted, exercised faith and prepared the best we could. I continued to work on my business and schooling through the next summer (of 2024), got all my Gen Eds out of the way that summer, and got quite a few course overrides with the Music Department and the Honors office to stack several classes on top of their prerequisites, with about 10 classes each semester that fall and spring to graduate by Spring 2025. This was important because she had also gotten an impression from the Holy Ghost a month or so before I finished at SUU that her last day at her job (as a cook for 150 kids a day) was supposed to be May 16th. The only time before this where we had received an exact date like this from God was when we were married… in 2020… during COVID… when every place we wanted to get married was closed on May 22 (our anniversary date). God made that work, too, the place we were married opened up 2 weeks before our planned date and it worked out! I figured He must have a plan to make this work out, too.

Graduation was fantastic. I graduated with Honors, member Phi Kappa Phi, Summa Cum Laude as a part of the very first class of Commercial Music Graduates from SUU. I had found out among all the graduation celebrations and Honors banquets and events. etc. that most of the other Commercial Music grads also had plans to head to Nashville, so no pressure there! But I learned that when you act in faith, God responds. About two weeks after graduation, we still didn’t see any way financially to make such a huge move possible, but then Collette suggested we just act in faith and start packing, even if it’s just stuff we don’t really use a lot. So I did. I began boxing up books I knew I wasn’t going to read any time soon and then crazy started happening! And when I say crazy, I mean it in a very wonderful but stressful way. Things got a quick shove from “whenever” to feeling like “let’s do everything RIGHT NOW!” That very night when I boxed up those books, we got a call from someone who asked to remain anonymous who made an offer I could hardly believe. They said they had stumbled upon some financial resources they didn’t know they had, thought of us, and knew we were trying to find a way to move to Nashville. They basically said “we will cover all your moving costs.”

Once again,. I looked up again, feeling something like “You knew all along, didn’t you?” May 16th was about 2 weeks away at that point so we had to move fast! I won’t go over the whole story, but let’s just put it this way. Getting everything else packed up, my business ready to move, Collette set up with a new job, finding a place that could get our housing application processed fast enough and everything else was a total whirlwind. God made it possible, so it was time to do a huge gear shift both personally and mechanically over the next 3 weeks.

Followed by a series of even more complications and associated miracles from the Lord than I have time to discuss here, we’re in Nashville now, but here are a few key lessons I learned.

1. When God tells you He wants you to do something on a timetable you think is impossible, believe me, He will make a way for it to happen when you act in faith.

2. If you are really serious about wanting to see God work miracles in your life, you need to be ready to accept that your own greatest ideas are most likely not going to be the same as His best ideas.

3. You can make all the plans for your life you want, but when you’re really dedicated to your music and discipleship to Christ, He’s going to ask you to do things that rarely align with what makes sense to you, and believe me, His plans are always better than ours. You just have to be open to making very unexpected changes.

When you are on the gospel path in music, just be ready to shift gears when you least expect it.

For those who want to hear any of the fruits of the Lord’s work through me, click here or look me up on Spotify under W Paul Pulsipher. If you live near Nashville and want to collaborate in person, fill out my contact form at pulsipherproductions.com

Arting According to Conviction

heathersavage1

I could feel the flat affect on my face while my composition professor was talking to me about my new piece. He didn’t like my ideas. It wasn’t an issue of technique, but personal opinion. In his estimation, they just wouldn’t work.

I sat there not responding. I didn’t smile or nod. I didn’t comment. All his ideas were bouncing off me and sticking to him.

After a bit, he realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to convince me of his opinion, and I was resolute to try my ideas whether or not he liked them.

I’m glad I stuck to my guns.

The piece in question is my most experimental to date. It is a guided improvisation of sorts, with very minute and gradual shifts within the whole tone scale. The instrumentation is flexible. There is no set tempo or rhythm, and the form of the piece follows a narration. The score is essentially useless, except for the three pages of performance notes, more like game rules, explaining the notation and how to move through the piece.

It’s almost a musical version of Stone Soup. I provided the “stone” – the idea, and the performers bring what they have to add to it.

The truth is, I didn’t know if it was going to work. How it would “taste”, how it would sound.

I was just going on a hunch, by intuition. I had a general sense of it in my head, how I imagined it would turn out. But while I could engrave the score and parts on the computer, it was impossible to use the software to create a mock-up of the piece.

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    I am very happy with how it turned out, and I received positive feedback from both performers and listeners. I have already submitted it to three different calls for scores because I believe it is good enough to get in front of new music ensembles.

    In the process of conceptualizing and rehearsing the piece, I realized how much it not only involves a different approach to playing music, but how much it changes how the ensemble works together.

    I have a background in jazz, including playing in combos, so I am familiar with what it means to listen to another player, to respond to their licks, to fill in gaps, when to become more prominent and when to back off. Listening to what is happening in real time is paramount to a successful jazz combo performance.

    I don’t want to give the impression that classical musicians don’t listen to each other. Of course they do! But most of the time, the actual music that is played doesn’t change based on their listening.

    My piece, though, requires players to be open to making adjustments to what they are playing in response to what others are doing around them. Is the narrator taking more time in a segment than you anticipated? Then you need to fill the space with more sound. Is the other string player now using the technique you were planning to use? Switch gears and try something different. Ultimately, the ensemble works together to come up with how they want to perform the piece. I have given the general instructions, but the specifics are up to them. Every iteration of the piece will be different. Different individuals, different instrumentations, different approaches to the improvisation, different interpretations.

    My favorite aspect of music has always been its collaborative nature. When I was eight years old, I began learning clarinet and joined the school band because I wanted to make music with other people. Prior to that, I was taking piano lessons but practicing by myself, though I found meaning in that, was not fully satisfying. Music, to me, is at its heart communal.

    With today’s technology, it is possible to create music completely alone. You can make a track of all electronic instruments. You can record yourself performing. Everything can happen in your own room.

    But I believe something is missing in that approach. I believe that music-making is a situation where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts and is best done in partnership with others.

    When I wrote The Night Sky is Always Changing, I was able to maximize on my conviction that music making is collaborative and communal, by handing more autonomy over to the performers for what they will add to the piece. Not every piece I write will be this loose, but I am definitely inspired to try something like it again.

    Another way this piece reflects my conviction is in the experimental nature of the music. I believe the definition of beauty is very broad. As a Christian, however, I have come across some who share my faith but believe the definition of beauty is very narrow and limited to tonality. In their view, anything else is dishonoring to God.

    I disagree, because I believe that there are aspects of the world and our own personal experiences that cannot be fully or accurately expressed through tonality.

    Outer space is one example. The pictures I see taken with the Hubble Telescope and others are so far outside our everyday experience. Mind-blowing, stupefying, majestic, transcendent. Truly awesome.

    How can that be honestly reflected in tonality with a predictable harmonic sequence and a singable melody? It is my conviction that it cannot. The night sky explodes with wonder. So, the music must break out of convention as well.

    There is no way my music can match the sublimeness of space, but I do think the piece captures the mystery of the unknown in the outer reaches.

    You can hear the premiere of The Night Sky is Always Changing below:

    There are many writers and musicians I would like to follow, but I cannot read their work without a subscription. There are only so many I can afford, and I know I am not the only one overwhelmed by appeals for subscriptions. So, I have decided NOT to put my writing behind a paywall.

    However, if you would like to show appreciation for my work through a financial contribution like you might tip a busker in the train station, any amount is greatly appreciated! You can do so here: https://buymeacoffee.com/heatherniemisavage

    In Praise of Old Ladies

    heathersavage1

    I began writing this blog post three years ago. But as things often go, life got in the way, other topics became more urgent or easier to get out, and this one went into the draft pile. Since then, though, I’ve accumulated more to add to the story, so waiting was worth it.

    In 2022, my good friend, Jerry, was 89 years old. She’s a composer, too, and I was fortunate enough to see her at a conference. She had quite the tale to tell about her travels. The first leg of her flight was delayed, causing her to miss the second flight. By the time she arrived at her room in the overpriced airport hotel, it was well past midnight. She had to be up at 3am the next morning to get the earliest flight to her destination, where she picked up her rental car and drove straight to the conference. She only missed the first hour.

    That’s a lot of determination.

    Did I mention she was 89?

    After a couple of full days of walking across campus from venue to venue, she was still up for going out for a late dinner with friends to cap off the weekend, as long as I did the driving in the dark.

    That’s a lot of energy. Did I tell you she was 89?

    She is now 92, but she hasn’t really slowed down.

    Jerry’s enthusiasm for life isn’t just in the amount of energy she can maintain. It also shows up in her career. She still invests in learning. She embraces new ideas. She is not deterred by new technologies. I saw her at an online conference in January. We email regularly, and she told me about some recent coaching she had received from another composer less than half her age, and how much it had helped her grow her composition career. In the last few years, the number of performances and commissions she has received has grown tremendously!

    She is generous with her time and knowledge, too. She has told me about workshops, conferences, organizations, websites, and other things that will help me move forward as a composer. She has given me tips on some techniques related to composing. In turn, she has also been eager to hear what I have to share, asking me to comment on her in-process pieces and where I find public-domain poetry.

    She loves to collaborate. She has teamed up with several undergraduate vocal majors to write art songs for them.

    Jerry amazes me. Her zest for life is inspiring.

    Since I began writing this blog post, I have met more women around the same age – other musicians, in fact – who blow my mind with their tenacity and vivacity.

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      I have a new student, Dorothy. I am teaching her how to use Sibelius. She is 92 years old! At the end of our first lesson, she remarked, “The world has changed so fast. I’ve got to catch up!”

      Instead of complaining about how things aren’t the same as they were back in “her” day, she sees it as her responsibility to change and grow with the world.

      When the person who was engraving her compositions could no longer do the work, she decided it was time to learn the computer software herself. She is going from pencil-and-paper to computer in her advanced age. Yet, people less than half her age are moaning about switching from one notation software to another (Finale vs. Dorico.)

      (By the way, I Googled her and discovered that she gave a public piano recital at age 90. Just wow!)

      Then there’s Helen. Though she has slowed down a bit in the last year and no longer gets to church every week, she still sings in the choir when she can. Even though she sings from a wheelchair, her voice is remarkably clear and strong for someone so old. She is a retired church music director and, for a special treat, conducted the choir on her 100th birthday!

      Three years ago, the impetus for this post was the death of Estelle Harris at age 94. As I started reading the list of roles she had played (I was most familiar with her roles in Seinfeld and Toy Story), I started doing the math. Wait a minute. She was how old when she did that??? She was seventy-one when she began her role as Mrs. Potato Head.

      They say age is just a number. And it’s true.

      But we have to make sure this doesn’t remain just a saying.

      It’s important to find and model ourselves after those who are living out this truth, who are not letting age determine their identity, value or accomplishments, who are living with a zest for life that is almost other-worldly.

      These women are in decent health, but they don’t move fast. Despite this, their minds are on fire! And they are determined to maximize whatever opportunities and abilities they currently have.

      It’s as if they are living in the present so much, the present never ends.

      Obviously, not everyone lucks out to have great mental and physical health at such an old age. Yet, the fact that these three 90+ year old women who are tackling the world like they are still twenty tells me that this zest for life is not pure luck.

      They didn’t develop this mindset in their later years. They already had it, which I believe has enabled them to continue in it.

      As Michale Scott wrote in The Warlock, “The day we stop learning is the day we die.”

      These women, in their 90s and older, have not ceased learning and exploring.

      Let us emulate them to the greatest extent possible.

      And for those of you who have to switch from Finale to another notation software, take a cue from Dorothy and determine that it is on you to catch up to the changes. If she can do it, so can you.

      There are many writers and musicians I would like to follow, but I cannot read their work without a subscription. There are only so many I can afford, and I know I am not the only one overwhelmed by appeals for subscriptions. So, I have decided NOT to put my writing behind a paywall.

      However, if you would like to show appreciation for my work through a financial contribution like you might tip a busker in the train station, any amount is greatly appreciated! You can do so here: https://buymeacoffee.com/heatherniemisavage

      Be Yourself, But Not Like That

      heathersavage1

      A while back, I entered a composition competition. Shortly after, one the judges, who I personally know, went on a slight rant on social media about the use of Papyrus as a title font.

      The argument was that it’s kitschy, overused, and communicates that the music within is “less than.”

      It also happens to be the font that I use for my titles.

      Before you judge me, hear me out.

      I am aware that there is a level of disgust (from some people) about the use of Papyrus.

      They complain about the movie Avatar using this font – a movie that came out over fifteen years ago. A decade-and-a-half is a long time for someone to hold onto a hang-up about a font.

      At the same time, I have received compliments about my font.

      But, yesterday, in a meeting I was warned by another composer that my font gets mixed reviews.

      It’s divisive, for sure.

      Knowing this, I have looked for another font – multiple times. But I have not found another I like that is available across all the platforms I use. Sure, I could create something that I then have to graphically insert into my scores.

      But why should I do that to please other people?

      The judge I mentioned above said something about Papyrus being fake hieroglyphics. But he was wrong. Papyrus was the material hieroglyphs were written on. This is important, as I will explain.

      I chose Papyrus because it best communicates me and my music. It communicates something ancient and natural.

      Most of my music is inspired by extra-musical sources, primarily related to my (ancient) faith, literature, and the natural world. My brand archetype is “philosopher”, and I approach life through a metanarrative lens.

      My piece, Eidolons, takes its title from an ancient Greek word. My piece Arethusa is about a story from ancient Greece. My piece From the Four Winds draws its name from a phrase in the Bible. My piece Mountain Heartleaf is inspired by a species of wild ginger. These are just a few examples.

      Papyrus is a perfect fit.

      We are told to be our authentic selves. Then, we are told, “Well, don’t be that way.” That way is kitschy, uncool, overused and outdated.

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        Let me ask you a few things.

        1. Have you ever listened to and enjoyed a piece of music, only to wonder whether or not the publisher of the score used a good font?
        2. Have you truly judged a score by its cover? (If so, why? Did you not look at it or listen to the music?)
        3. Have you examined other scores, especially choral works? Do you realize how boring most covers are?
        4. Have you looked around at book covers and noticed how overused many covers are, especially for non-fiction titles?
        5. What is the music really about? How the cover looks, or how it sounds?

        When I see the titles of other scores, they feel bland to me. They don’t call to me. That doesn’t mean I won’t examine the score or listen to the music. However, I personally like to make my score covers a little more decorative by using the Papyrus font with some shadow.

        If that turns someone off, I can’t control that. If they see my cover as lame and assume that the music contained within is also lame, without giving it a look or listen, then they are not “my people.”

        But my guess is that some will like my font and understand it communicates that my music connects to something beyond ourselves.

        I have given this a lot of thought, and despite the insecurity I sometimes feel when people warn against the use of Papyrus, I’m going to keep it.

        I’m going to be myself.

        And, you know what? It hasn’t hurt me too much.

        In my meeting yesterday, I was told that I needed to highlight more of the good stuff buried in my CV, in particular the pieces that have been performed in peer-reviewed settings.

        Like Eidolons, which was recently performed at the UNK New Music Festival.

        My pieces have been performed in peer-reviewed contexts several times.

        And I get sales on JW Pepper.

        It seems the title font is not a problem, after all.

        A Plant-astic Piece

        heathersavage1

        Last summer, I was commissioned by Gabe Porter (Fr. horn) to write a piece for woodwind quintet about a threatened or endangered plant in North Carolina. Since I am an herbalist and love plants (rather am obsessed with plants), I eagerly accepted the opportunity.

        I chose the “Mountain Heartleaf” (Hexastylis Contracta) species of wild ginger.

        Wild ginger is an herb native to the woodlands of eastern North America which has a scent and flavor similar to the Asian ginger found in grocery stores. It has a history of use among Native Americans and early European settlers, but there are also warnings it could be toxic.

        I have never used wild ginger, but I have grown it.

        Common wild ginger grows fairly quickly, but other types of wild ginger, like the Mountain Heartleaf grow very slowly and require more specific growing conditions, which is why it is rare. The Mountain Heartleaf species grows only in the mountains of Eastern Tennessee and Western North Carolina, and there are fewer populations of it in WNC.

        Back to music.

        All of my music is inspired by extra-musical ideas, mostly philosophical or literary.

        Writing about a plant is different, yet also the same.

        It’s impossible for music to directly represent a physical reality. If I were to paint a realistic picture of wild ginger, with any skill it would be recognizable as wild ginger. But how does one represent a plant in music?

        To do this, I decided to approach the plant from more of a philosophical perspective, asking “What is its essence?”

        What makes this plant different from other plants? What are the components of the plant? What characteristics do they have? How does the plant grow? Where does it grow? What are its qualities? What vibes do I get when I consider these aspects of the plant?

        I used two pitch class sets to write the piece: the first five notes of the major scale, and the first five notes of the minor scale. Using extreme dissonance, extended techniques, or electronics did not seem to fit this modest plant.

        Following are the program notes I wrote to explain how my music relates to five aspects of the plant that I used for inspiration. Due to the determined length of the commission, each section lasts about one minute.

        Prelude: Conditions of growth. The Mountain Heartleaf lives in the deciduous forests in mountainous regions of Tennessee and North Carolina populated with Mountain Laurel and Rhododendron. The opening chorale establishes the rich, dense harmonic landscape of the piece.

        Perpetual Permeation: Rhizome. The Mountain Heartleaf spreads across the forest floor by a rhizome, creating a ground cover. A constant eighth-note pulse permeates and propels this scherzo-like movement.

        Overlapping and Variegation: Leaves. The leaves of the Mountain Heartleaf are heart-shaped, slightly variegated in their color patterns, and overlap each other, shading the forest floor and keeping it moist. A five-part canon provides overlapping and variegation in sound between the instruments.

        Exquisite Simplicity: Flowers. The flowers of the Mountain Heartleaf are understated, subtle, and elegant, often hidden by the leaves. This movement borrows from Satie’s Gymnopedies, which I believe are the epitome of exquisite simplicity.

        Vim and Vigor: Hot Herbal Energetics. Because Mountain Heartleaf is threatened, it should not be used, but it shares properties with other species of wild ginger*, and the root has a similar spicy taste to the Asian culinary ginger. The last section of this piece is a fast, energetic finale fitting for a plant with “hot” energetics which help to activate and enhance the actions of other herbs when blended with them in medicinal formulations.

        *Before using any wild plant, be sure to do thorough research regarding benefits and risks, and make sure you have a proper ID and are using an appropriate species.

        I loved working on this project, and now I want to write a set of pieces about plants for woodwind quintet!

        Here is a video of the premiere of Mountain Heartleaf. I hope you enjoy it!

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