Tag: music

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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    Has it Started to Get Hard Yet?

    heathersavage1

    I was asked this question the other day, in regard to my efforts in music composition.

    It is a truly ridiculous question. Out of respect, I won’t say who asked it, but I will say this person should have known better.

    While I rolled with it at the time and didn’t take offense, thinking about it more (and discussing it with my husband and my best friend) I realized it needed a better answer than the one I gave.

    And that answer deserved a blog post. So, here it is.

    Has music composition “started to get hard” for me?

    Well, music composition has always been hard. Or, at least not easy.

    It’s hard when I don’t feel like I have any good ideas.

    Yesterday I worked at composing for five hours and wrote nothing down. That doesn’t mean I didn’t experiment with ideas. It just means I didn’t catch any worth keeping. Like undersized fish.

    It’s hard when, instead of going out to see my husband’s gig, I stay home by myself and compose.

    I have learned to be by myself. A lot. Sometimes, I like it. Sometimes, I don’t. Either way, I feel I am communicating that I am antisocial. I’m really not. But I have to work, and this is my work.

    It’s hard when I feel discouraged about how slowly my composition career is growing, and I wonder if it will get off the ground before I die.

    I can relate to orchardists. Do you know how long it takes for a fruit tree to produce fruit? Several years. An orchardist must invest a tremendous amount of time, effort, and MONEY into purchasing the land and the trees, planting and tending, for YEARS before even a first modest crop is produced. That’s what a composition career is like. But instead of buying and planting trees, I am writing pieces. And, like the orchardist, I can use the best skills I have, but I am still susceptible to things outside of my control, like the weather (or in my case, public opinion) that could ruin everything before it even starts. Unlike the orchardist who can get a loan from a bank, I can’t even get funding from a grant before my work is proven.

    It’s hard when there’s no/not enough money coming in from my composition.

    Yes, I work. Not just at composition. I do other work, mostly playing the piano or teaching, that brings in income. But it is demoralizing to compose and not see rewards from your efforts. The Bible says workers are worthy of their wages. But our society says workers are only worthy of their wages if society determines that what they produce has value and only the wages society is willing to pay. This problem is not unique to artists, but it is hard nonetheless.

    It’s hard when I don’t hear back from calls for scores and competitions.

    It’s worse than rejections. At least a rejection makes me feel seen. Like I actually exist. But not hearing back feels like I just sent a piece into a black hole and no one cared enough to respond.

    It’s hard when it feels like other musicians don’t respect composers.

    Like the people who don’t let composers know the results of calls for scores and competitions. Composers spend many, many hours composing the piece. But they can’t spend 20 minutes getting an email written? I see performers complaining on Facebook about the cost of scores. They wouldn’t play for free. But they want to composers to do their work for nothing? I see certain ensembles asking composers to pay them to look at their scores, but if they perform the pieces, they don’t pay for the copies and probably don’t even report a performance properly so the composers can get royalties.

    Of course, not all musicians are like this. Many ensembles treat composers fairly.

    But it is hard to do the work of vetting who I will send scores to.

    It’s hard to write music in a style or combination I have not used before.

    It’s hard to figure out how to communicate and notate how to produce non-traditional sounds.

    It’s hard to figure out how to reproduce a percussion sound you fell in love with, but the instruments aren’t made any more because the inventor and sole producer died.

    It’s hard to write music in combinations for which there are no models (at least that my professor could think of.)

    It’s hard to know if all your ideas are going to work.

    Composers don’t have a true lab. Sure, a computer program can reproduce some sounds. But not all. And there aren’t always live musicians around to try out what you need to hear when you need to hear it. And sometimes the set-up needed is not something that can be assembled without a great deal of planning.

    Sometimes, the test happens in real time on stage at the premiere in front a live audience. What if it flops?

    This hasn’t happened to me yet – and I certainly hope it never does – but that would be hard.

    It’s hard to go through the process of composing.

    Thankfully, I have done this often enough that I know what to expect of my own process. (Every composer’s process is a little different.) I know it can take a long time for a good idea to ferment in my mind. Sometimes that is scary because I feel like I am getting way too close to a deadline. And I am not a procrastinator! But I can’t magically make a good idea. I can not-so-magically come up with a bad one, though.

    As George Crumb said, “it is easy to write unthinking music.”

    But hard does not mean not worth it.

    I wrote to my dear friend, Jerry, a 90 year-old composer who I consider to be my adopted grandmother, this week about the thoughts I’ve been tossing back and forth in my mind regarding my plans for after I graduate in ONE YEAR. Time flies by faster and faster as you get older, and I can’t believe I am already halfway through my master’s.

    I shared my frustration with the significant number of views my compositions get on YouTube. But few score sales. No comments. The significant number of hits on my website. But few subscribers, few comments, and few score downloads. It seems many experience my music or my writing, but just don’t engage. I feel like I am missing the mark.

    That’s hard.

    So, what happened in the two days since I wrote to Jerry?

    Two people liked blog posts and I got a new subscriber.

    Then, a huge surprise – my piece, Eidolons was selected for performance by chamber music players of the Raleigh Symphony!

    The life of a composer is like a roller coaster. Serious dips. Glorious highs.

    But riding a roller coaster all the time is hard.

    Knowing whether or not you should stay on or get off the ride is hard.

    Is it “starting to get hard?”

    No, it is not starting to get hard.

    It has always been stinking hard.

    Expect the Haters

    heathersavage1

    I recently had the opportunity to attend an online entrepreneurial music business workshop. Several presenters gave ideas and suggestions on all aspects of building one’s personal brand, networking, marketing, creating content like podcasts, and finding new students. It was all very helpful. But one session in particular stood out: Jeremy Todd, in his session on “Building a Business Mindset,” said straight out: “Expect the haters.”

    Wow. That phrase shocked me: EXPECT the haters. In other words, getting push-back or a lack of encouragement, even from people you love – family or friends – is inevitable.

    This is something I wish I had known years ago.

    Learning new things as an adult is hard. When we’re young, learning new stuff is a way of life, for everyone. When we’re in school, our classmates are also learning, even if it’s not at the same rate. Based on my own experience, I would argue that most kids do not know how much they have to learn. They don’t yet have an end-goal in sight. Failure may sting, but it’s not particularly risky. We might get a bad grade or embarrass ourselves, but we’re not going to lose our house. However, as adult learners, we have a different perspective. We’re more aware of how far behind we are as beginners and how fast we need to catch up if we’re trying to establish a career. We’re more aware of our personal limitations; we’re more aware of who is already successful; we’re more aware of the cost of learning, in terms of money, time, and effort. It’s stressful.

    Venturing out on a new project or working to turn a dream into reality as an adult is even harder. It’s one thing to make the effort to learn a new skill. It’s quite another to take that skill and make it public, whether through a new business, an invention, or a piece of art. What if it fails? The adult life is one full of responsibilities to other people. It could be a family dependent on you to provide food; it could be the bank or a landlord expecting payment. There’s not a lot of room for risk and failure.

    It is easier to play it safe.

    (This is not a criticism of those who choose not to go on career or creative adventures. I do not think everyone is given an entrepreneurial spirit.)

    What happens sometimes is those who want to play it safe may criticize those who start new things. They become the “haters”: those who outright discourage you from trying, tell you it won’t work, demonstrate disinterest, don’t show support, and refuse to lend aid or make an investment, however small. Jeremy Todd says you will get even more push-back from those who are close to you, but it makes sense. He likes to think it comes from a place of love: these people are afraid for you. They don’t want to see you fail. Or, he says, it might come from a place of feeling inferior: their feelings are hurt because they don’t have the talent, inspiration, or motivation to do what you’re doing.

    Earlier this week, I read “Ignore Everybody and 39 Other Keys to Creativity” by Hugh MacLeod which, incidentally, is probably the best book I have read thus far on creativity, though I am obligated to give a warning about the language. MacLeod takes a very practical look at working and living as a creative individual, which makes this book stand apart from other, also favorite, excellent, but more philosophical books such as “The War of Art” by Steven Pressfield, “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert, or “Walking on Water” by Madeleine L’Engle.

    In “Ignore Everybody…”, MacLeod has a different take on “haters.” He says, “Good ideas alter the power balance in relationships. That is why good ideas are always initially resisted.” Wow. It’s not that other people want to control you. They just want things to stay the same – the way they know and expect, an attempt to retain a sense of internal comfort.

    This really does help me understand why I should not take things too personally. I have never expected everyone to appreciate my music, but it is enlightening to understand now that some of the worst push-back can come from the people who are the closest. That connection may be precisely why some are so uncomfortable with my new ventures.

    I have always liked sharing, and that includes discoveries I make along the way. I admit it is disappointing when those I care about want to stay back rather than join me in the adventure. But at least I now know, despite how it is communicated, that is not a rejection of me but a reflection of where they’re at.

    As Hugh MacLeod says, “There’ll be a time in the beginning when you have to press on, alone, without one tenth of the support you probably need. This is normal. This is to be expected.”

    Maybe, someday, the haters will change their minds.

    Thank you for reading! Subscribe to receive these posts in your email. Share this post with anyone you think may enjoy reading it! Please consider supporting my work through making a donation.

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    A professional recording of my piece for string orchestra, Daughter of the Stars, is now available. It can be found here.

    We’re Having a Music Theory Issue in This House

    heathersavage1

    The issue is Ben Shapiro’s definition of music.

    I was watching Adam Neely’s video, “Music Theory and White Supremacy” the other day. In his video, which I highly recommend watching, Adam shows a clip of Ben Shapiro making the argument that hip-hop music is not music, because “according to his father who went to music school”, music must contain three elements: melody, harmony, and rhythm. Since rap music doesn’t contain melody (it doesn’t? Not ever?) then it doesn’t qualify as music.

    His definition is just plain wrong.

    While most of what we call “Western (Euro-American)” music contains all three elements of music, some doesn’t. And it’s not just rap.

    Let’s take, for instance, the plainchant used by the early Catholic church. While we could argue that it does have melody, I would challenge any music school graduate to use their ear training to notate it. The melody doesn’t have a lot of movement, and the rhythm is just about indiscernible. As far as harmony is concerned, the earliest chant had none. But I’m going to guess that Ben Shapiro would still classify plainchant as “music.”

    Technically, harmony is any two pitches sounding against each other. A mother singing a lullaby to put her baby to sleep is singing a melody. It may have rhythm, but does it have harmony? Is it, then, music? One could argue that melodies have implied harmonies. If that is true, what harmonies are implied? The fact is that a melody could be harmonized many different ways; thus, the harmony is not predetermined by the melody. Arnold Schoenberg even said that music students with a modicum of training in music theory (figured bass and part writing) would have difficulty effectively harmonizing someone else’s melody. (Theory of Harmony, p.14) If that is true, and I believe it is, melody does not dictate harmony, and a melody alone cannot count as two elements of music. So, I ask again: is a mother singing a lullaby alone to her baby making music? This is a rhetorical question – of course it is!

    Speaking of Schoenberg, does his music have melody? This is a bit tongue-in-cheek. Some of it does have a distinguishable melody, but his later 12-tone music can be hard to follow, and it definitely does not have a tune one can take home in one’s back pocket. Does that make it not music? Of course not! We can argue about whether or not we like it. We can discuss whether or not it is beautiful. But there is no question that it is music.

    The same goes for John Cage who opened the world’s ears to the sounds of the prepared piano. The prepared piano substitutes nicely for certain percussion. Cage’s Sonata No.5 for prepared piano sounds astonishingly similar to a gamelan ensemble; it is rhythmic-based, without a singable tune or identifiable harmony. Again, we can say whether or not we like it, but it is most definitely music.

    There are many other classical composers who have not required their music to have all the elements of melody, harmony, and rhythm. But it’s not just Western classical composers whose work doesn’t fit Ben Shapiro’s ignorantly narrow definition of music.

    Music from all over the world often lacks one or more of the three elements. Traditional Celtic music is often accompanied by only a drone. Does that qualify as real harmony? I already mentioned gamelan music (this example is Balinese, and as you will hear there are only tiny bits of singable melody.) It is fascinating music, but it is nothing like what most Westerners are used to hearing. Much of African music also is primarily rhythm-based. I have a recording of African women washing clothes in a river. While washing, they sing a melody (no discernible harmony) and turn the river into a percussion instrument by plunging buckets into it or slapping their hands on the surface of the water. The size of the buckets and the way they hit the water with their hands creates different tones and textures, making the water sound like multiple different instruments. Not only is it music, but it is beautiful demonstration of turning a mundane task into a joyous celebration of community. The examples abound from around the world.

    So what about hip-hop and rap?

    I just spent the last month as a juror judging music videos for a competition. Out of about one hundred ten entries, over 60% were hip-hop/rap. I am not a hip-hop and rap connoisseur, but I can tell you it is music. First of all, much of it does actually include melody. If someone doesn’t know this, they haven’t taken the time to listen sufficiently to make a fair judgment about the music. Second, unlike Ben Shapiro claims, rap is more than “rhythmic speech.” Spoken word, which in a sense could be called rhythmic speech, is a performance art with it’s own genre. Most hip-hop/rap is accompanied, and the accompaniment includes: harmony! The mix of beats, bass, sampling, and a wide variety of instrumental and textural options provides a lot of interest. As I argued above, the lack of one particular element of music does not disqualify it from being music.

    Even if there is only one element, it is still music. It is difficult to have a discernible harmonic progression or melody without rhythm, but rhythm can often stand alone. Consider a marching band during a parade. As they walk by when the wind instrumentalists are resting from playing, the drum corp is still playing in time. The watching audience might even be moved to boogie a little while they go by. Just drums! Just rhythm! Does Ben Shapiro think that they are not playing legitimate music?

    It is unfortunate that Ben Shapiro’s music theorist father who went to music school did not teach him that music does not need to have all three elements of melody, harmony, and rhythm to qualify as real music. This kind of thinking allows a person to inaccurately and unfairly judge certain styles of music as inferior. As I said in my post, “Is Music Theory Racist?“, analysis of music is very limited to only a certain style of music in a certain place at a certain time. To hold all music to the same standards is, at best, ethnocentric and irresponsible. As a public figure, Ben Shapiro is accountable for the opinions he spreads about music, and as extension, other cultures as a whole. Ben Shapiro’s comments, whether he intended it or not, denigrates the music and culture of entire regions of Africa and Indonesia, as well as Aboriginal and Indigenous tribes, and there are likely other musics I am as of yet unaware. As a public figure, Ben Shapiro is spreading his own personal opinions of music, claiming that they are based on a universal standard, and leading his followers to agree. However, the very basis on which he is making his statements – his definition of music – is just plain wrong.

    There are three elements of music. (Actually, I would argue that there are four, the fourth being form, but that discussion is for another post.) We can agree that three elements of music are melody, harmony, and rhythm. But music does not necessarily contain all three at all times. A wide variety of music exists. Sometimes it contains just one element; sometimes it uses a combination of two; sometimes music does contain all three. This is true of folk and classical musics, from around the world and in the Western tradition.

    Next time you whistle a tune you made up or sing in the shower or beat a rhythm on your body, know that you are enjoying a tidbit of music. It may not be the world’s next masterpiece, but it is still music.

    Thank you for reading! Subscribe to receive these posts in your email. Share this post with anyone you think may enjoy reading it! Please consider supporting my work through making a donation.

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    A professional recording of my piece for string orchestra, Daughter of the Stars, is now available. It can be found here.

    Where are the Dancing Elephants?

    heathersavage1

    I have a love-hate relationship with Gustav Mahler.

    I love dark Mahler. When Mahler’s music is in the depths of despair, I am right there with him, my eviscerated soul laid bare writhing in agony. There is no milk chocolate in Mahler’s world. That dark music is a gourmet flourless 80% cacao chocolate torte, so rich the flavor lasts for hours. But other times Mahler, as I like to put it, “goes Disney” – you know, the happiest place on earth. Sickeningly sweet. Like an overloaded ice cream sundae with caramel, hot fudge, peanut butter sauce and marshmallow, finished off with the obligatory whipped cream, walnuts, jimmies, and of course, cherry.

    I don’t have a sweet tooth.

    It’s the syrupy music of Mahler that disqualifies him from being my favorite composer, even though his somber, haunting music leaves me “deep into that darkness peering…wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before” to quote Edgar Allan Poe, a fitting pairing.

    But despite the fact that I cannot bear listening to Mahler’s “Disney” music, I think I understand what he was doing. First, if music isn’t emotional, what’s the point? Second, the music must be what it is. Mahler doesn’t hold back. He allows the music and the emotion to achieve maximum fullness. It is incredibly intense, like the colors in a Fauvist painting. This is what I admire most about Mahler’s work, and I aim to emulate the courage to write passionate music regardless of the potential embarrassment of being too much.

    A few months ago, I was commissioned to write a Christmas piece for the Greater Tiverton Community Chorus. As I finished it up over the weekend, I asked my husband to listen to it. I was concerned about it being “corny.” While my husband is not a composer, he is a musician with good taste and I implicitly trust his judgment. He listened, turned to me and said, “No, it’s not corny. But…it seems like something’s missing. Your ending needs more.” As I asked for more details, he sighed and replied, “I’m afraid you’re going to have go Mahler on this one.” I knew what he meant: Disney Mahler.

    I revised the ending by giving the sopranos some higher notes and making the harmony more complex, then brought it back to him for another listen. In his best Edna Mole imitation, he said, “No, no, no, no, no! Dahlin’, where’s the BIG? Where are the dancing elephants?” Mahlering this up really meant working hard to pull out all the stops. Suddenly, I understood why only a touch of happiness wasn’t enough. There was still something missing, stifling the impact. I had to figure out what it was.

    It finally came to me – I was missing percussion. I didn’t have the option to add timpani to the piece, but I had a piano which, in one light, is a percussion instrument. I made the left hand fill in for timpani and the right hand fill in for chimes. I gave the trumpet part more flourish and higher notes. Finally, it was finished – as over-the-top as it could be. I imagined Mahler coaching me, “That’s it. You’ve got to be all in. Go big, or go home.” I must have done it right because the director loved the piece and called it “magnificent.”

    Am I falling in love with Disney Mahler?