Monday, March 16, 2009

Tangled/Triangle

Firstly, many thanks to Matt, who took time out from his busy server-moving, Linux-crunching schedule over at the NIN Hotline to iron out a few bugs on the performance page, huzzah. While he was at it, I replaced a couple of the sidebar widgets on this blog page which were unsatisfactory. The Flickr slideshow I had been using, for example, suddenly started sprouting ads. Goddamn.

Last week, Network for New Music performed my latest piece, Tangled/Triangle, a sound/art collaboration with the amazing artist Becca Burrow:



This Thursday, a 20-minute selection from my Gonzales Cantata is being performed at the West Chester University New Music Concert (free admission!), along with lots of fantastic music from fellow WCU students and some lesser known amateurs named Lutoslawski and Corigliano. Once that's done, I'll augment the rehearsal session and full performance with the new audio, and hopefully have a really good recording to add to the official cantata website and send around with the score.

In the meantime, I am desperately trying to juggle Macbeth performances, Hamlet rehearsals, my teaching schedule, and the final weeks of my undergraduate degree. Despite this craziness, I managed to find time last week to discover the perfect necklace, which I would probably buy if I had ever spent anything close to $250 on an item of jewelry in my life.

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Thursday, July 24, 2008

Paging theninhotline

I have lately been getting multiple e-mails per day asking for this, so here it is.

Lights in the Sky (Sibelius file - readable for free with Scorch)
Lights in the Sky (PDF)

I have no idea how to access the Hotline anymore, since the interface changed and nobody has let me know what to do. So I guess I'll just point everyone who's been asking to this blog entry until someone uploads the files to the site and posts a news article.

[Edit] Situation with the Hotline resolved; sheet music for Lights in the Sky is now available here on Know the Score.

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Thursday, July 17, 2008

Explosions in the Sky

Tonight I started listening to this band because I had Friday Night Lights playing in the background while I worked on the house all day, and I liked the music more than anything else. Sounds like Godspeed You! Black Emperor. It's the first music in weeks (months?) I've been able to listen to and ... enjoy may not be the write word. It gives me a kind of sweet pain and sometimes makes my arms break out in hard gooseflesh.

Ten minutes ago, I found their MySpace profile, and played the first track "Yasmin the Light." As the climax approached, I heard a loud crack, and I glanced out the window beside me just in time to see a burst of green and purple in the sky. The chances of a leftover firework from July 4th being ignited at the right time and in the right place, with me seated at the right angle, combined with the fact of the band's name and the nature of their music, had me in tears with completely indescribable emotion. Sometimes I don't know quite what the universe is doing with me, but I think it's giving me a pretty wild ride.

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Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Two tracks from the Gonzales Cantata

Currently, when I'm not rehearsing with the Philadelphia Shakespeare Festival, I'm supposedly working on my composition degree. As I think I've mentioned on here in the past, one piece I'm working on is a cantata based on the Senate Judiciary Committee hearings of Alberto Gonzales.

Because half the reason I'm writing it is that hardly anyone I speak to in the real world seems to know anything whatsoever about Gonzales, it's pretty unashamedly pop neo-Baroque. It's about half-finished; I guess it will be about 40-45 minutes long when it's done. I created the libretto from the actual transcripts, and for shits and giggles, I reversed the genders of all the performers, so every role (Gonzales, Specter, Leahy, etc, who also all double as the chorus) is sung by a soprano or alto, with the exception of Diane Feinstein, who is a tenor. Instrumentation is chamber strings and harpsichord.

Anyway, I had two pieces from the cantata played at a new music concert at my college the other day, and I recorded a rehearsal:

Freedom Overture (har har har, it's a French overture, geddit?)
Aria: "Differently" (Gonzales)

DIFFERENTLY
Text excerpted from US Senate Judiciary Committee Hearing, April 19, 2007.

GONZALES: Looking back,
things that I would have done differently?
I should have told him,
And I think he should have --
I should have asked him
I should have told him the factors
that I thought were important for him to consider.
I should have told him,
And I think I would have told him --
I should have told him,
And we should have a list.
I think these are the things --
I think these are the kinds of things, in hindsight,
that I wish would have happened.
I think it's also unfair
(I think it’s all so unfair)
It is clear that we struggled -- not struggled –
Where we made a mistake, clearly -- I think --
is once we said "performance,"
we should have defined that.
Because performance, for me, means lots of things.
It means whether or not you've got leadership skills,
whether or not you've got management skills.
It may mean whether or not
you support the president.
It may mean that you don't have --
that you have a sufficient --
that you have relationships.
And so there are lots of things that fall within
the definition of performance-related.
And I think that we should --
we should have defined what we meant by that.


(This aria comes right before the final chorale of the cantata - "God Bless America" - and is composed of cut up quotes from the hearing -- his stumbles, mostly.)

Anyway, it's just a crappy recording from a rehearsal, but I thought I would put it out there to kick my own arse into finishing it.

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Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Many little updates

Things you may not know about me, since I have been so slack in blogging, I haven't mentioned them.

Months ago, I got a free 30Gb Zune as a result of doing promotions for Zune at the Tweeter Center all summer. It is pretty boss, although I think the software is a little buggy and non-customizable. Still, I prefer it to iTunes and I rather enjoy shunning membership of the iPod borg.

I did get that job teaching theater at my local YMCA, and it's a load of fun, although after factoring in (a) the money I spend out of my own pocket organizing costumes for the performances because HOLY CHRIST HOW DO THEY EXPECT SMALL CHILDREN TO PERFORM WITHOUT COSTUMES, (b) the hours I spend putting together lesson plans and writing at least two scripts per semester, and (c) the fact I have zero time to take advantage of the free Y membership, I am actually losing money in the enterprise. But the kids are great.

Yesterday I called in sick to the YMCA because I was running a fever and had a sore throat from hell, and the woman in charge of youth programs had the hide to get tetchy and borderline rude about it. Like I have some sort of obligation to ignore debilitating malady for a $9-an-hour job.

I've decided that one day, when all my other ideas have dried up, I'd like to open my own drama school, where I can teach my own (AMEB/TCL) way. They'll start with learning how to recite poetry properly, then move onto monologues, and they'll get a good grounding in the physiology of voice production. I'll even run an eisteddfod, old-school-Australian-style. My graduates will land every theatrical and cinematic child role in Philadelphia, because nobody is teaching the next generation of actors how to audition, nobody.

Last night, thanks to an unexpected windfall, I did the UNTHINKABLE. I bought a guitar. A GUITAR. This is all thanks to an anti-Ron-Paul punk song* I wrote at the end of last semester. I discovered that my hands are too small to comfortably play bar chords, so I began looking into smaller guitars. My next revelation was that guitars are, on the whole, too heavy and would probably kill my neck after prolongued playing, so I searched for something lighter. Finally, the cheapskate in me wanted a great deal. Behold:



Daisy Rock's Stardust Retro-H semi-hollow electric guitar has been discontinued, so it's possible to find them for only $150 delivered. It's ordered and on its way.

Apparently I am going through a fulfillment phase of gear lust, because I also recently became the proud owner of one of these:



Years ago, I heard Brian Eno play with a Korg Kaoss Pad in a radio interview, improvising Autechre-style beats. Covetousness was instant. Two weeks ago, Matt found one on Craigslist for $200.

WRONG MAN = flowers and/or chocolates for Valentine's Day. LAME.
RIGHT MAN = Kaoss Pad 2 for Valentine's Day. YES.


Last year, after deciding that enough was enough, I decided to give antidepressants a try, specifically fluoxetine, as I was (am) pretty sure my SADS is getting worse. It was an interesting experience, sometimes negative, sometimes positive. On the negative side, I was neurotic and anxious for the first few weeks, my sleep patterns went haywire, and I continually had mildly disturbing dreams. On the positive side, my PMS disappeared. In fact, when I told Matt one day that it was that time of the month, he was stunned by my complete lack of symptoms. On the I-can't-decide-if-it's-good-or-bad side, Prozac took the edge off my drive. I didn't feel like I had to kill myself to do well at school, for example. This perhaps resulted in some substandard work, but I also allowed myself to relax more than I usually do, which some people claim is a healthy way to live.

We're coming into spring, and the dreams were becoming annoying, so I took myself off them. No side effects of cessation to report so far. The dreams, which I will document in a later entry, have gone away. A recent study says Prozac is useless, which is interesting.

I'm about to head into tech week for Romeo & Juliet. As previously mentioned, I am sick as a dog.


*I did actually record this, though it seemed stupid to put it online after Ron Paul received his expected drubbing in the primaries. Still, maybe I'll post it for lolz sometime.

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Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Recording of 'Black Thunder' from the Kimmel Center

For everyone who couldn't make it to the Poetry Project concert at the Kimmel Center last week (or for those who want to hear my piece again), here is a recording of Black Thunder taken on the night. Enjoy!

And some reviews/mentions are in:

  • Philadelphia Inquirer: "In the second half, Luke Stromberg's marvelous poem "Black Thunder," about the aftereffects of drink, was given an appropriately bluesy haze by Melissa Dunphy."

  • John Clare: "Notable was Melissa Dunphy's Black Thunder. Not only is she a friend, it turns out she is a delightful composer, writing very idoimatic for piano trio and baritone, but also with great sensitivity for the words and music."

  • Lesley Valdes, WRTI Critic-At-Large: "Melissa Dunphy's setting of Luke Stromberg's Black Thunder reflects the extravagance and paranoia of young love and its powerful ending."

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Friday, December 21, 2007

Break on through to the other side

I have been avoiding blogging because it so much has happened that writing about it is a daunting task. To lubricate the muse, here is a video that I have just watched many times in a row.


The Jingle Cats - White Christmas

Finals are over, and if the Facebook-propagated way to check grades through some kind of security flaw on the university's website is to be believed, I made it through without blemishing my 4.0, huzzah.

Finals week just about killed me, though. I hit upon a novel way of dealing with the psychological stress of 18.5 credits: every time I finished the final piece of assessment for a course, I would subtract that course's credits from my total. After the orchestration reading, for example, I was only really taking 15.5 credits. After my jury, I was down to 14, and so on. For some reason, this approach helped.

I feel like the papers I turned in really weren't my best work, but only enough to get me the grade I needed, which is a shame because they were damn interesting papers. I wouldn't mind readdressing a Marxist analysis of the music industry in grad school one day - though no doubt, by then, someone will have already written the thesis.

This week, I have a temp job in an office in Conshohocken to help pay the Christmas bills. This is important because I have been rather taken by a dress on eBay, and through the listing, by the designer, Jessika Madison-Kennedy of Dadadie Brucke. Seriously, I think this might be the new style I've been vaguely searching for these past few years.

Finding a new visual style is important right now because Matt and I are about to completely overhaul this website using this magical thing we have for two weeks called spare time.

In PHILADELPHIA IS MY OYSTER news, the Philadelphia Shakespeare Festival announced their new season with the quote: "Romeo & Juliet is directed by Carmen Khan and features Festival favorite David Raphaely and Festival newcomer Melissa Dunphy in the title roles."

Also, here is a link on the Philadelphia Orchestra website to the Network for New Music concert at the Kimmel Center next month, with a composition by me. I wonder if the fact that I am so tremendously excited and puffed up about it somewhat negates the "real composer" cred. Incidentally, if you're interested, Network for New Music has a YouTube channel.

Speaking of composition, I had the overture and an aria from the Gonzales cantata played at the end-of-semester composition final, and they've been picked up for the New Music concert at West Chester University on January 31st, which is exciting. I really should devote some of my newfound and short-lived free time to finishing as much of that sucker as I can; I'm terrified that if I delay too long, Gonzales will blow over in the news, given the fickleness of the American press and public. I was pleased to note that he made Bill Maher's Dickheads of the Year list.

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Sunday, December 02, 2007

I'm having a composition performed at the Kimmel Center!

Way back in May, West Chester selected me as one of a group of composers participating in the Network for New Music's 2007 Poetry Project. Basically, students poets write poems, student composers blindly select from those poems and write art songs, and the best ones are performed.

Results are in, and my song was picked! I will be one of six student composers performed at this concert at the Kimmel Center. I am so happy!

The song is called "Black Thunder," and the poem was written by Luke Stromberg, who also goes to West Chester, as it happens. Dan Shapiro, fellow WCU composition major, is also having a song performed. I can't wait for rehearsals to begin.

But for now ... back to writing an essay applying Marxist theory to the music industry. It's an exciting topic, but sudden immersion in Marxist theory is proving a little rough.

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Sunday, October 07, 2007

short cuts

If you haven't seen the picture all over my Facebook/Myspace profiles, I had myself a haircut last weekend, right before the lovely Cliff and Danan and Tony Randazzo descended upon our house for a mini ETS get-together. Not that I have much time these days to spend on ETS, but it is nice to see people again in the flesh.

More daring even than my haircut, I am entering L'homme Armé in the SEAMUS electroacoustic composition competition, since I don't have anything to lose; nothing is going to come of it, because the piece is in a vastly different style to the usual SEAMUS ambient noise fare. The deadline is before the New Music concert, so I had to mock up something approaching a recording this weekend. The daring part is posting it here so you can listen to it.

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Saturday, September 29, 2007

Citizenship ahoy

God bless the land that gave us birth!
No pray'r but this know we.
God bless the land, of all the earth,
The happy and the free.
And where's the land like ours can brave
The splendor of the day.
And find no son of hers a slave?
God bless America!
God bless the land, the land beloved
Forever and for aye!
God bless the land that gave us birth.
God bless America!


This week, I filed my citizenship papers. I cannot wait for my vote to not be counted like everyone else's!

I am seriously excited to complete the civics test and prove that I am more qualified to be a citizen than most natural-born Americans. Matt quizzed me the other day with the practice questions at the back of the citizenship guide, and I got nearly all of them right - including naming the original thirteen colonies off the top of my head, yay! I missed the questions about Patrick Henry (unheard of in Australian history classrooms, and his name is too goddamn generic to stick in my head) and how many members there are in the House of Reps. An informal questioning of educated Americans in my college classrooms reveals that, in fact, nobody knows how many people are in the House of Reps.

The answer, which I will now remember for life, is 435. (Answer subject to change following the next census).

The processing time for the I-400 is something like two years, so it's likely my vote officially won't not count until 2012.

In unrelated news, I am completely addicted to Scrabble on Facebook.

  • Jason sent me a link to this completely terrifying and wonderful video of two robots covering Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy." The robots are playing percussion and a theremin, and they are doing rather a wonderful job.

  • The Blob was filmed around Downingtown, where I live. In this trailer, you can see a shot of the diner which is just down the road.

Speaking of the theremin, I am currently modifying mine to include a sort of fingerboard, for more accurate intonation -- I have to play it at a concert next month of new music at my college. On the program: that L'Homme Arme thing I composed last semester. I have to retool some of the actual music as well. Hopefully I'll get a decent recording.

Speaking of things musical, I did a transcription of NIN's The Becoming for Know the Score. The new version of Sibelius with Sounds Essentials is lovely, I highly recommend it.

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Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Kill

I want to throttle my orchestration professor.

I mean, he's cool and all, and a decent teacher, but goddamn, this was the homework for this week. Keep in mind that I am in no way hurting for things to do.

"Due Tuesday, Sept. 18
1. String project reading session: bring three revised scores and a set of parts to class.
2. Wind project. [Bring to class – digital and printed] Compose an original work in any style, approximately 2 minutes in length scored for flute, oboe, clarinet and bassoon."

ARGH! Having never written anything for winds before, writing the second project tonight was like pooping a pineapple. In a hurry.

So, yes, in case you were wondering, school is driving me nuts. I've probably bitten off more than I can chew with twenty credits, and I've embarked on a ridiculously ambitious composition project for the semester - I'm writing a cantata based on the senate judiciary hearings of Alberto Gonzales. Come on, if you had an idea like that, you'd sacrifice sleep and sanity to follow through as well. The only question in my mind is whether to call it Gonzales! The Cantata or stick to something more straight. I spent my first semester weekend cutting an 11-page libretto out of 240 pages of transcript from two separate hearings and his resignation speech. That's probably at least partly why I'm scrambling to catch up in every other aspect of my college life. Don't even ask me about practicing the cello.

The highpoint of my excessive workload is a 5-page essay assignment defending the authenticity of a modern-day rock protest musician. I will give you one guess which musician I picked. In fact, I give you no guesses; you ought to know.

The worst thing about all this is I love it. School is killing me, and giving me murderous thoughts, but I fucking love it. School is crack. I would make a pun here about school shootings, but add that to the faux death-threat at the beginning of this blog entry, and I'd probably be dragged off to a loony bin tomorrow. Just so everyone knows, I'm not thinking at all of pulling a Columbine. Hell, I even think the Second Amendment should be repealed.

I need sleeeep.

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Thursday, August 09, 2007

Philip Glass Music on Sesame Street

In a composition class last semester, my professor asked me when was the first time I ever heard Philip Glass. I searched my memory, and was just about to say something about Einstein on the Beach, when I had a very sudden revelation.

"My God ... I think it was on Sesame Street. Do you remember those kaleidoscope segments on Sesame Street? Was that Philip Glass music? Jesus, it must have been!"

Dr. Nelson didn't know what I was talking about, despite having a kid about my age, but since I had my laptop in front of me, I ignored the class for a few minutes to search for a clip on YouTube (God bless YouTube), then interrupted his lecture to insist that everyone listen:



Of course, Dr. Nelson confirmed that it was unmistakably Philip Glass, and I was left to marvel at what a deep impression Glass' music must have made on me as a child of two or three. Who knows? Maybe being exposed to Philip Glass at such a young age was the reason I was so receptive when I heard Einstein on the Beach as a teenager.

I bring this up now because there were originally three Philip Glass scored segments on Sesame Street, and the other two were recently discovered by Matt, who knew I'd been looking for them at the beginning of the year.





This last one is the one I remember the most clearly.

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Sunday, July 22, 2007

kraftwerk

Sometimes I forget just how much I love Kraftwerk.

This summer, I'm teaching at a Shakespeare camp in Lancaster, and part of my job is ferrying groups of campers across town to the theatre's costume shop. With four teenage girls in my car, I threw on a Kraftwerk CD, and it was magic. They even asked me to drive around the block a few times so they could hear more of "Pocket Calculator." Obviously, the girls have wonderful taste; my hope in the teenage population of America is restored.

I don't understand how Kraftwerk makes music so awesome. It's remarkably difficult to do, as evidenced by the fact there are ten thousand electronic acts in the world, and none as good as them, then or now.

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Friday, May 11, 2007

Obligatory YAY FINALS ARE OVER post

Finals are done! I am a free woman. I feel completely lost and unable to fathom what I should do with my freedom. I need structure! Lists of minute tasks! Obligations! Instead, all I have is a long, lazy summer stretched in front of me, interrupted by one pissweak general ed class and a broad idea of some of the things I want to achieve:

  1. Reorganize the Center for Music Technology. It is a mess, and I have been given access by the department and license to fix it up. That's going to be a fun task that Matt is helping with too. The only not-fun thing about it is that the lab is full of Macs. Ugh.

    On a side note, here is a chat conversation I had the other day while hanging out in the lab:
    me: Wow
    There are these big desk rackmount things in here
    At least, I thought they were just racks
    but then I looked closer
    and they are freaking SOUNDPROOF.
    Leviathant: Wha? Soundproof racks?
    me: They are these big boxes for the servers that lock everything up in this soundproof container
    Leviathant: Ooooh.
    me: We have to set those up in the summer
    Leviathant: ok
    me: clear glass front, covered on the inside in foam, compressing foam in the door
    Leviathant: That makes sense, because servers are loud. But they are also hot.
    me: motherfucker it has a fucking temperature sensor
    digital readout in the front
    fuck, here it is http://www.norenproducts.com/Acoustilock/xCAB.html
    Leviathant: Phwoah.
    me: I just downloaded the price list.
    it's $2350
    for a desk
    Leviathant: For a soundproof temperature regulating desk.
    WITH LABYRINTHS

  2. Fix the house. This stage of renovation involves tiling the basement, finishing the tiling in the bathroom, installing good shelves in the basement, and destroying the living and dining rooms and re-drywalling them. When I've done that, I can buy a piano!

  3. Make a garden. My big task for the summer is to build a retaining wall and erect a fence. When I've done that, I can buy a chicken! Theoretically.


In terrific post-finals news (actually, I was tipped off in the middle of finals, on hell day, which was almost more than I could bear emotionally), I am being awarded the Harry Wilkinson Music Theory Scholarship. It's a lot less than the alumni association scholarship, but it means more, since the people who gave it to me are my professors.

Hell day was Tuesday, when L'homme Arme was performed. I played the theremin like an oaf (though I forgive myself - can you believe I only built it five weeks ago? It seems like six months already). Ioana's click track failed. Because I was playing and not in the audience, I had no idea what the mix was like, and I'm told there were some balance issues. But it went surprisingly well. The faculty seemed to like it - they'd like it performed again at some new music concert next semester. I should add "practice the theremin A LOT" to my list of things to do over the summer.

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Saturday, May 05, 2007

HAPPY DANCE!@!!!

I am doing a happy dance! The Alumni Association gave me a lovely, lovely scholarship!

This is an especially happy dance because I am ineligible for financial aid. See, Matt and I like having an investment portfolio. It is not only lucrative, but informative, and it keeps us interested in the stock market and economic news. When we bought our house last year, we decided not to throw all our investment money into the house, but to keep it and get a home loan. The interest we earn on our investments is greater than the interest we're paying on our loan anyway.

Unfortunately, the existence of our investment portfolio means I can't get a lick of financial aid other than unsubsidized loans. The fact that my liabilities are worth far more than my assets is immaterial to Federal Student Aid. In fact, several FAFSA sites advised me to spend my investment portfolio in order to qualify for aid. This seems to me a really stupid thing to do.

So, my only alternative was scholarships. I couldn't apply last semester because I was a transfer student and therefore ineligible for most scholarships. I put my mind to kicking arse so I could maybe land one this semester.

And they gave me one!! They gave me four thousand dollars!!! Callooh! Callay!

In composition news, I am working on two things.

L'HOMME ARME

This semester, I took Music History I and Theory IV, so I was studying early music and twentieth century music at the same time. This was, in my view, helpful. The periods before and after the "tyranny" of the common practice have a sort of Wild West similarity to each other. It was particularly interesting to see that most of the techniques used to develop twelve-tone themes were firmly established in the fifteenth century (The main difference, as I see it, is that the composers of the fifteenth century actually gave a shit what their music sounded like to regular people).

I fell vastly in love with Ockeghem, a Bach-like genius who is virtually ignored today. I also found myself fascinated by a technique in which he excelled - the mensuration canon, which was developed before modern time signatures came about and died afterwards. When my history professor explained the concept of a mensuration canon in class, I was intrigued by the mind-blowing mathematics involved. My first instinct was to assume they didn't sound all that interesting. Then he played the Kyrie from the Missa Prolationum to us, and I had a hard time not bursting into tears - partly because it was so beautiful, and partly because Ockeghem must have had a brain of god-like proportions.

When faced with a god, the first instinct is to worship; the second is to emulate (to be "Closer to God AHAHAHAA"). "I will write a mensuration canon!" I decided. "It will be a lot easier now than it was then, anyway, since I can make horrible dissonances and everyone will just think it's modern!" I started to write a piece with the working title Ockeghem's Razor. It was supposed to be sort of jokey.

Then the Virginia Tech massacre happened, which made me think about a lot of things that are wrong with the world. I was probably listening to too much NPR again. At any rate, the music that I was writing sounded awfully depressed. I couldn't call it "Ockeghem's Razor" anymore.

Around the same time in Music History, we studied the cantus firmus mass. Back in the day, the day being the fourteenth and fifteenth century, everyone and his dog wrote a cantus firmus mass to the tune of "L'Homme Armé," a little French folk song.



The armed man should be feared.
Everywhere it has been proclaimed
That each man shall arm himself
With a coat of iron mail.
The armed man should be feared.


The tune is as relevant today as it was five hundred years ago, not only because of the gun violence in the USA, but because the original song was a call to arms for the crusades. Here we are in the 21st century, still having at the Muslims. I'm fairly angry and upset about that too.

So, I threw the "L'Homme Armé" in as a cantus firmus in the cello line, put it in retrograde in the clarinet line, wrote a mensuration canon between a theremin and a tenor (seriously), and threw a French horn in with some free counterpoint for good measure. Currently I'm spiking the whole thing with vaguely Reich-flavored news grabs and audio samples on a tape (figuratively speaking; actually Cubase).

It's either going to be fairly moving, or the sort of thing you get sick of after about thirty seconds, because I'm really ramming my anti-second-amendment anti-violence message down your throat.

BOULEZ IS DEAD

In 1951, Pierre Boulez wrote an angry essay titled "Schoenberg is Dead," in which he blasts Schoenberg for not going far enough in his pursuit of serialism. Yeah, I know, can you believe this guy? According to him, we should serialize not only pitches, but note duration, attack, dynamics, you name it. He invented insane compositional processes that were absolutely impossible for any listener to discern, and the results are only listenable if the performer makes them so by hard-selling them.

Boulez really pisses me off. But it would be pointless to protest his philosophy by writing a tonal piece, so instead I am taking the ironic stance that Boulez didn't go far enough. Serializing pitch, rhythm, and dynamics is all well and good, but did he serialize the actual sound? Nooooo. What a pussy.

With some help from Matt, I put together a program in C# that generates randomly a 90-second piece for theremin, cello, and General MIDI. All three parts have pitch, rhythm, and dynamics serialized. However, the third part also serializes the 128 voices of general MIDI, which - for those of you who have never played with a crappy Casio keyboard in your youth - includes not only MIDI approximations of the usual orchestral instruments, but "bird tweet," "seashore," "goblins," "telephone ring," and "helicopter."

It sounds like balls. That's the point. The best part is that we put a picture of Hannibal Lecter in the background of the program's GUI. He is swinging a telescoping baton and looks like he's conducting. It's a serial piece, get it? Also, the "Go" button says "Kill Boulez," and when the piece has been generated, a message is displayed: "BOULEZ IS DEAD."

The full title of the piece will be "Boulez is Dead: A serialist piece in C#." Ahahaha, I kill me.


One more quick composition story before I get back to finishing writing these two pieces: the other day while I was driving, an interview on NPR reminded me of the short story "The Nose" by Gogol. I read this story years ago and loved it. Suddenly, I thought to myself, "By god, that would make a terrific modern one-act opera!" I turned off the radio and began composing themes for the opera out loud. I had pictures in my head of a guy in a nose costume singing my tunes. When I got home, I raced to Google to seek out the story and read it again.

Can you fucking believe it? Shostakovich already did it. In 1930, he wrote an opera based on "The Nose." I swear, I didn't know. I thought of it entirely independently. That fucking bastard Shostakovich.

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Saturday, April 28, 2007

Spring fever

I haven't written in a while, mainly because I am horrible sick. Some throat thing. I don't think it's strep, but I've had an excruciatingly sore throat for going on four days now, plus general utter wretchedness. Most of the school has it, or has recently had it, and Matt came down with it right before me. I went to sleep on Thursday at 3pm and when I woke up, twenty-four hours later, Rostropovich was dead. Also, I missed classes, which is never a good thing this close to the end of semester. Damnit.

Today is so beautiful, though. We're in that three-week window right now when the weather in Pennsylvania has the potential to be perfect. Thinking of blowing off schoolwork and going to Longwood Gardens.

I'm trying to write a mensuration canon with a L'homme Armé cantus firmus as a reaction to Virginia Tech and assorted other events, like the Iraq War. So far, it sounds very depressing.

Writing a blog is useful because I point people to Wikipedia links which end up informing me. I didn't know that Karl Jenkins wrote an Armed Man mass for peace. That's sort of why I'm borrowing L'homme Armé too. Darn. Guess I'll have to check out his work before I go any further.

  • I have a terrible desire to see this awful-looking movie from a few years ago called Equilibrium. It's all very Year Zero (humans forced by despotic regime to take drugs that suppress emotions, etc), but Christian Bale playing at kung fu with guns is fun-looking.

  • Dog Police. I watched this again and again and again.

  • The Revealer: Teenage Holy War. Another good impetus for the L'homme Armé piece.

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Monday, April 09, 2007

Joshua Bell the busker

Pearls Before Breakfast: Joshua Bell tries his hand as a street musician - with a fucking Strad - and earns about $30 in 45 minutes.

I used to do a lot of busking in Brisbane and Sydney, back when I was eighteen and not really earning enough in regular employment to live by myself in inner-city Sydney. I usually made $35 an hour. If I wasn't making $20 an hour, I'd go home. On good days, I made $50 to $60 an hour.

Having busked frequently, I worked out a few rules and guidelines which Joshua Bell might have figured out on his own if he hadn't done it only once, and only for three-quarters of an hour.

  1. Always start with money in your case. Always. Sadly, sympathy is nowhere near as effective as the sheep mentality, which I guess is why more money gets thrown at Paris Hilton than at cancer victims. An interesting trend I noticed while busking is that if I started with larger denomination coins (in Australia, we have gold one-dollar and two-dollar coins) and small bills in my case, I would receive generally the same kind of denominations from passersby - like attracts like, if you like. That's not to say that I would earn overall more money, but at the end of the day, I would have a conveniently small bag full of gold coins and notes, as opposed to a large heavy bag full of five-cent pieces that the bank doesn't want to count.

  2. Location, location, location. If you play somewhere where buskers set up every day, people will take you for granted. Set up somewhere slightly unexpected, and more people will notice you and appreciate you.

  3. The audience doesn't want to hear art, it wants to hear crap. It is a rare beast who will give money to someone playing a gorgeous concerto or sonata. Stick to classical music that everyone knows, like Pachelbel's canon and Eine Kleine, or popular songs from musicals and the like. People want to hear the kind of stuff they will recognize and wander off humming. This is the cruelest truth of being a classically trained street musician. Your audience is made up of Philistines. This is also the number one reason why I can't busk too many days in a row - I become the worst kind of contemptuous misanthropist.

  4. How you dress really matters, especially if you're a girl. Some of this obviously doesn't apply to Mr. Bell, but I'll say it anyway. Wearing a skirt will get you more money than wearing pants. Wearing contacts will get you more money than wearing glasses. Wearing lipstick will, oddly enough, get you less money than going without - you look somehow less approachable, I figure. Wear a short skirt, and you'll see the results in your case. Especially if you wear a green microskirt on St Patrick's Day and play nothing but jigs and reels. Smile. A lot. People will give you money if you can make them smile too.

  5. Make friends with people around you. If you busk near shops, go in and buy something in the shop, and chat to the proprietors. If they become your friend, they'll probably pop out every now and then to give you money.

  6. Make friends with other buskers. This is how I hooked up with a South American folk band and played the Newtown Festival in front of tens of thousands of people.

  7. Play outside pubs or gambling establishments. Once, a guy stepped out of a pub while I was playing some crap and dumped a fifty-dollar note in my case. It was about ten in the morning. I assume he won some money on the poker machines.

Anyway, I haven't busked in years, and I've never done it in the USA, but I assume busking is the same pretty much anywhere. Joshua should have asked me for tips beforehand.

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Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Alarm Will Sound

Here I am playing the theremin. This was taken the night I finished it, so I don't really have a technique yet. In the days since, I've started playing it in a manner vaguely similar to the way Lydia Kavina plays it. Here also is a picture of Matt demonstrating the controversial "angling" technique, which he figured out on his own in about five minutes.

Yes, making a theremin turns your house into a mess.

Over the weekend, I went to an Alarm Will Sound concert. They are amazing. Amazing. I want to shun all worldly concerns and devote my life to writing a piece of music good enough for them to play. They play arrangements of Aphex Twin and Autechre tracks. They make chaos sound tight. They perform - and you can't help but love every sound they make when you watch them.

Joining the ensemble for this and another concert on the 24th was a friend from high school, extraordinary clarinettist Eileen Mack. It has been twelve years since we were in high school together. Now we're in the same part of the United States, and she's playing with Alarm Will Sound, with whom I'm newly obsessed. Wacky. We got drunk together at an AWS house party afterwards. Well, I got drunk. Eileen held her liquor. I am a Cadbury.

I also smoked too many cigarettes, causing the high Bb I tried to hit for my choir audition (solo for upcoming concert) to sound ... interesting. Also, I lost the ability to trill. Nevermind; I didn't really expect or want to be given a solo - there is a soprano at West Chester who also auditioned with a voice so perfect it makes me want to believe in God again.

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Sunday, March 25, 2007

THEREMIN

Feeling a little nuts. Just spent nine hours non-stop soldering. No plumbing disaster this time - I now have a complete circuit board for my theremin.

This is the first circuit board I have ever made from scratch. (Well, I assembled all the circuitry from a kit. Obviously, I didn't make the actual board, because that would be insane.) I was a little daunted when I opened the box to find a jumbled bag containing hundreds of resisters, diodes, and capacitors, and a virgin board, but it wasn't all that bad. If only Mr. Hayward, my high school physics teacher, could see me now.

I really wish soldering were more highly regarded as a skill (i.e. that I could make my mother proud by earning a Ph.D. in Advanced Soldering, then go on to have a distinguished soldering career complete with fame and loads of money), because, damn, I am better at soldering than I am at just about anything - this includes singing, which I did at a church this morning, for money, goodness.

Also, one day I am going to write a cyberpunk novel in which there exists a drug called flux, which would of course come in a paste and be burnt and inhaled a la heroin.

As you can see, I now have bright orange hair. The congregation seemed to like it, surprisingly, even the elderly ladies. It was a very cool church (as far as churches go).

This weekend I learned that the Danish word for 'end' (in the context of, for example, 'The End' on the final interstitial of a silent film from 1916), is 'slut.'

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Thursday, March 15, 2007

Update of my To-Do List

Update:
  1. Clean the damn house I have half-cleaned the house. Sort of.

  2. Write song cycle based on Lucy's blog. I already have one song started, but I'd like to have at least three by the end of next week. First song is completed. I have an idea for the second.

  3. Tidy up recording of bass and pianist for "So You Want to Write a Fugue?" Done. Incidentally, Glenn Gould is a goddamn snot, the sort of snot that makes me want to punch him in the face and kiss him at the same time, which is the best kind of snot, I guess. Observe this passage towards the end:

    Hello, surprise atonalism in the middle of a Bach homage. Also, there's a section of the accompaniment that I'm pretty sure is a Wagner allusion.

  4. Finish reading American Shaolin and get started on the Proust.
  5. Study for my music theory exam
  6. Finish tiling and grouting the kitchen floor and backsplash, and install the dishwasher
  7. Practice the cello - PRACTICE IS NEVER FINISHED
  8. Practice the bassoon - PRACTICE IS NEVER FINISHED
  9. Practice singing - PRACTICE IS NEVER FINISHED
  10. Rebuild my laptop

  11. Rip Metropolis to my laptop and choose a nice fifteen-minute section of it to score in the next year. VIGOROUS SWEARING AND GNASHING OF TEETH GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR CUNNYKICK. Apparently, despite the fact that Metropolis was made in 1927 - that's eighty goddamn years ago, in case you weren't counting - it has not passed into the public domain. Wait, let me correct myself. It was in the public domain, but because of Sonny Bono's stupid fuck Mickey Mouse Copyright Extension Act, it suddenly became non-public property again. I didn't think that was possible, but holy fuck, it is. Words are insufficient to express my rage at the corporate-toadying US legal system's stranglehold on cumulative creativity. This is not the fucking point of copyright law! *smash*

    And no, this does not only apply to the 2002 Kino restoration, but to all copies of the movie. Check this out from a lawsuit filed in 2001 against the Attorney-General in this matter:
    Copyright restoration has had a similarly devastating impact on Festival Films's business. Before § 514 went into effect, Festival Films offered a wide selection of foreign titles of works that were in the public domain for failure to satisfy the requirements of the relevant Copyright Act. Festival offered these movies for sale to the public specifically because they were in the public domain. But, with copyright restoration, Festival can no longer. Copyright restoration has forced Festival to remove approximately 50 to 60 foreign titles from its selection, including such favorites as ... the classic Fritz Lang film Metropolis.
    So my grand plan to create a score for it and conduct it live in front of a projection of the movie as my senior project has been involuntarily canned. Instead, I'm laying my hands on a 1916 Danish silent film, Verdens Undergang (The End of the World), which has vaguely similar themes, I suppose. (I watched Cigarette Burns a few weeks ago, but that doesn't have much to do with it, I swear.)

    Incidentally, Metropolis will enter the public domain again in Year One 2023, unless some fucking Disney flunky douche asswipe bastard decides to extend the goddamn law again. I guess I should be thankful I didn't get this idea a few years ago, write it, then suddenly find my work unperformable in public as originally conceived without paying exorbitant fees.

  12. Counterpoint homework
  13. Build a theremin (if the parts arrive) (they haven't)

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Friday, March 09, 2007

Land ahoy!

I can't believe spring break begins for me in a couple of hours. HOW? Whither the first seven weeks of the semester? Where have I been? Was I here? There's a niggling feeling in a corner of my brain that any moment I will wake up, and it will be the beginning of January ... 2002.

Life's good, though. My conjunctivitis was gone in two days without any kind of treatment. I noted this week that it's impossible for me to walk through the music school without seeing people I know and like, and smiling. I just sorted out my schedule for next semester, and I'm looking forward to it. And 300 is open this weekend. What more could a girl want?

Here is a boring list of things to do over the break. Hey, it's good to have plans. Even if I have doubts about accomplishing any of them.
  1. Clean the damn house
  2. Write song cycle based on Lucy's blog. I already have one song started, but I'd like to have at least three by the end of next week.
  3. Tidy up recording of bass and pianist for "So You Want to Write a Fugue?" We're cobbling together the recording since our bass is spending spring break in Israel. Basically, this process is going to be like Frog and Toad all over again, I can tell. (Only, you know, without an immediate member of my family passing away in the middle of the chaos, touch wood.)
  4. Finish reading American Shaolin and get started on the Proust.
  5. Study for my music theory exam
  6. Finish tiling and grouting the kitchen floor and backsplash, and install the dishwasher
  7. Practice the cello. Maybe if I practice hard enough, I'll make up for all the lack of practice. Is that how this music thing works?
  8. Practice the bassoon
  9. Practice singing
  10. Rebuild my laptop
  11. Rip Metropolis to my laptop and choose a nice fifteen-minute section of it to score in the next year.
  12. Counterpoint homework
  13. Build a theremin (if the parts arrive)

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Saturday, February 17, 2007

Hold On to My Violent Heart

Remember what I said about My Violent Heart when I first heard it a couple of days ago? I couldn't shake it. To that end, I made my first foray into the ridiculously untalented world of mashups:

Hold On to My Violent Heart

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Friday, February 16, 2007

Honk! If You Love Fred Durst

Soon after I bought my charmingly cute and functional Hyundai Accent hatchback, I graced its behind with a cherished sticker, given to me by Anthony before I left Australia, which reads "Honk! If You Love Fred Durst."

I do not love Fred Durst. If you look closely at the sticker, you will notice that it also depicts a Jesus fish containing the letters "TISM." The sticker is a piece of promotional merchandise manufactured for an Australian band called This is Serious Mum, otherwise known as TISM. I rate TISM among my favorite bands in all the world. Their music ranges from electronic to rock, and their lyrics range from hilarious to angrily hilarious to thought-provokingly hilarious to quite poignant in a slightly hilarious way. In any case, there's always some kind of social or political commentary involved.

In 2001, TISM released an album called De RigueurMortis. The album contained a single called "Honk If You Love Fred Durst." Here are the lyrics:
God looked at the spreadsheets for Christianity.
"We need more than product placement on R&B CDs.
Youth masses ain't workin, cut the Pope's budget back.
Get the youth demographic thinkin' Jesus ain't wack."

Honk if you love, honk if you love,
Honk if you love Fred Durst, beep beep!

"We need a teenage pop diva, a virgin sex-kitten:
Carnal knowledge, innuendo, immaculate conception.
Start a shrinking-violet, bedroom-wannabe S Eleven.
Be bad, girls, be nasty, and you will get to heaven."

Jesus rocks tha' mic.

"For our next apostle, we need to go for cred.
Get a vegan greenie DJ with a shaven head.
He can rip off some old bluesman like a real techno vandal,
But tell everybody he's unfit to tie my sandals."

It's time for the Messiah of Hardcore Christian Inc.
Son, reverse your baseball cap, jerk your arms like Lancelot Link.
It's born-again, stone phat, bitch-ass, boy-fantasy religion.
Feed the holy moshpit Limp Bizkit communion.

Of course, Americans don't know who TISM is, and they certainly don't realize that my "Honk! If You Love Fred Durst" sticker is a reference to a song criticizing hypocritical marketable sanctimony in pop culture. I don't know what I was thinking putting that sticker on my car. Maybe I thought the Darwin fish next to it would somehow clue people in to the fact that I think Fred Durst is an utter douche.

The number of drivers who have honked at me because of that sticker in the last two years is depressing. People express their genuine love for Fred Durst with vigorous toots of their car horns and delighted waving at least once every two weeks.

Today, while stopped at a traffic light, I heard a honk behind me. I glanced in the rear-vision mirror to see a forty-ish couple in a minivan grinning at me through their windshield. The husband in the driver's seat pointed at his wife, who was flapping her hands and beaming. I saw him mouth the words, "She loves Fred Durst!" My eye caught sight of some writing on the front of the van.

It was a church vehicle.

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Wednesday, February 14, 2007

My Violent Heart

Here's a picture. It's a snow day. I should be catching up on school work, but instead I'm cleaning the house, blogging, and taking pictures of myself. Lame.

"My Violent Heart" from the new NIN album Year Zero is Trent Reznor's Valentine's Day gift to the world. I like it. However, the first time I heard it (through the bedroom floor this morning while half-asleep as Matt was playing it downstairs), I thought it was a remix of the Sam & Dave soul hit "Hold On, I'm Coming." You'll understand when you get to the chorus. Maybe.

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Friday, February 09, 2007

Dissociative fugue

I have a terrific idea for a new composition. Now I just have to get it together and write it. By next week.

Fugue, n. [F., fr. It. fuga, fr. L. fuga a fleeing, flight, akin to fugere to flee. See Fugitive.]
  1. dissociative disorder in which a person forgets who who they are and leaves home to creates a new life; during the fugue there is no memory of the former life; after recovering there is no memory for events during the dissociative state [syn: psychogenic fugue] [Hel-LO, ternary form]
  2. a musical form consisting of a theme repeated a fifth above or a fourth below its first statement

dict.die.net/fugue


Dissociative Fugue is one or more episodes of amnesia in which the inability to recall some or all of one's past and either the loss of one's identity or the formation of a new identity occur with sudden, unexpected, purposeful travel away from home.

Specific symptoms include:
  • The predominant disturbance is sudden, unexpected travel away from home or one's customary place of work, with inability to recall one's past.
  • Confusion about personal identity or assumption of a new identity (partial or complete).
  • The symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.

The length of a fugue may range from hours to weeks or months, occasionally longer. During the fugue, the person may appear normal and attract no attention. The person may assume a new name, identity, and domicile and may engage in complex social interactions. However, at some point, confusion about his identity or the return of the original identity may make the person aware of amnesia or cause distress....

The person often has no symptoms or is only mildly confused during the fugue. However, when the fugue ends, depression, discomfort, grief, shame, intense conflict, and suicidal or aggressive impulses may appear--ie, the person must deal with what he fled from. Failure to remember events of the fugue may cause confusion, distress, or even terror.

http://psychcentral.com/disorders/sx87.htm


In a fugue state, the individual not only develops a total amnesia for his past along with a complete loss of personal identity but, unconcerned by the internal revolution that has taken place, he complacently enters upon a new life and a new identity, often far removed from all that has gone before. Suddenly totally ignorant of his former life, occupation, family, and friends, he leaves home and, to the dismay of those left behind, seems to have disappeared from the face of the earth. In fact, he has merely wandered, often many miles, to a new location, sometimes with a vague sense of escaping from an intolerable situation, sometimes impelled by an inner fantasied goal. Then after weeks or months in his new life, he suddenly "comes to" as his former self with a complete amnesia for the events covered by the period of the fugue. The patient’s dismay at finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings is equaled by the surprise of his new acquaintances at his sudden change of identity, for during the fugue his state of consciousness and behavior have in no way appeared unusual to observers.
[...]
In the fugue states ... a change in the sense of identity is a central characteristic. As the fugue begins, the patient loses all memory whatsoever for the events of his entire past life. His origins, his family, his upbringing, wife, children, friends, occupation, all dissolve into the mists of forgetfulness, and the patient assumes a new name and life without any evident awareness or concern over the internal upheaval. Driven by often half-veiled inner urgings, he wanders far from his familiar surroundings to start a fresh existence, his conscious mind a virtual tabula rasa. It should be noted, however, that it is only the mental elements related to his personal identity that have disappeared. Basic functions such as language, general knowledge, and the skills of coping with the tasks of everyday living remain under his command, and there is no alteration in the state of consciousness of the new world of people and things around him. Only those who have known him in his previous existence would recognize the catastrophic changes in his being; to strangers, he appears in no way out of the ordinary. But ultimately and inevitably, a second revolution overtakes him. In the twinkling of an eye, he wakes to his old self, puzzled and dismayed to find himself in an alien world. His old identity is recaptured, but he is totally amnesiac for all the events of the period of fugue and frighteningly ignorant of how he came to be where he is.

Nemiah, John C. "Dissociative Amnesia: A Clinical and Theoretical Reconsideration" in Functional Disorders of Memory, John F. Kihlstrom, Frederick J. Evans (Eds.), Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale, 1979.


Amnesia victim walked Dallas streets for days
POSTED: 4:55 p.m. EST, January 26, 2007

DALLAS, Texas (AP) -- Joe Bieger walked out his front door with his two dogs one morning last fall as a beloved husband, father, grandfather and assistant high school athletic director.

Minutes later, all of that -- indeed, his very identity -- would seemingly be wiped from his brain's hard drive.

For 25 days, he wandered the streets of Dallas and its environs a lost soul, unable to remember his name, what he did for a living, or where he lived, until, finally, a contractor who was building a new house for Bieger and his wife happened to recognize him.

By that point, Bieger had somehow made his way to a suburb about 20 miles from his Dallas home, holes worn in the rubber soles of his canvas shoes. He had lost 25 pounds, and a full white beard covered the normally clean-shaven educator's face.
Bieger, 59, says he was diagnosed afterward as suffering from psychogenic fugue, an extremely rare form of amnesia.

Now reunited with his family and back at work, Bieger agreed to tell his story....

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Thursday, January 18, 2007

Back to school

I am three days into my second semester at West Chester, and I already have too much homework and feel like a walking zombie.

I'm loving my schedule, though. Firstly, I'm taking nothing but music classes. 19 credits of music theory, music aurals, music history, composition, counterpoint, private lessons and ensembles. Provided it doesn't drive me completely nuts, this ought to work well, since last semester I complained every time I needed to switch brain-gears from physics or women's studies to music. I'm also resolving not to do too much in the way of home renovation until break. I should rest on my laurels for a while after building a kitchen and finishing a bathroom (except for the tiling in the shower unit ... OK, maybe I'll do that this weekend).

Secondly, all my classes are in the brand new Swope Building, which is all kinds of awesome in comparison with the facilities at old Swope. The expanded music library even houses all the 780s that used to be in the main library. Since there's ample parking, and everything I need is in one place, I don't have to walk anywhere all winter. Bliss! (I'm resolving to avoid the elevators at all costs, however, for fear of becoming a hambeast from complete lack of physical activity.)

Thirdly, I passed my piano proficiency requirement for my degree, which freed me up to take up the bassoon. I have a shitty rented bassoon on my couch, which sounds remarkably like a sick goose when I blow into it. Apparently I'm required to join the concert band, which present problems since I currently can only play four or five notes with any consistency. Why the bassoon? I have no clue. It was one of those occasional sudden urges I have that more often than not turn out to be a good idea. If nothing else, it will help with any composition I might do for double reeds.

I composed that thing on the right there last semester and recorded it a couple of weeks ago. You can also find it on YouTube and MySpace.

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Sunday, January 07, 2007

You got mud on yo’ face

I have been drywalling for four days.

MUD! MUD! Glorious mud!
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood!
So follow me, follow,
Down to the hollow
And there we shall wallow
In glooooooooorious mud!


Does anyone else out there know this song? We used to sing it in primary school, and it's one of those childhood songs that makes me weep a little whenever I hear it. Much like "Five Little Ducks Went Out One Day." I don't remember the verses (well, not without looking them up on Google), but I remember one of them rhymed 'ignoramus' with 'hippopotamus.'

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Sunday, December 17, 2006

I am on break, and it is glorious. What's more, I'm reasonably pleased with my finals, although I won't get my final grades until the 21st.

Things to do this winter break:
  • Continue where I left off on that small business thing I was blathering on about a couple months ago but failed to get off the ground before I became too busy, surprise surprise.

  • Record my set of "Variations on a theme by Trent Reznor," a ridiculous late-romantic-ish treatment of "The Frail" for cello and piano. It went over pretty well at my theory class's final performance, particularly the fugue variation, which is extra-ridiculous.

  • Work on the house. I've already started - there's only one more wall to drywall in the kitchen (the uber-tall wall, now that the ceiling is vaulted), and in a few hours, I should finally have the second glass block window in the bathroom constructed.

  • Practice the cello some.

  • Create/memorize dozens of Sibelius keyboard shortcuts. God, I want this so badly.

  • Masturbate and torture small animals.

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