I want to write, write, write!

I want to do a music theater piece. Comical and absurd. I am going to call it "The Happy Cemetery" (like the "happy cemetery" I saw last summer). The story should be something like this:

It is nightfall; fog covers the ground; It is very quiet. The silence is  broken by ghostly voices, but we don't understand what they are saying; just disjointed sounds and syllables; gradually, they are starting to form words; then sentences. They seem to speak of "life" and "death"; but every mention of "death" is accompanied by sudden laughs, whistling and other noise!
The moon comes out from the clouds; full moon (it is Transilvania, after all ;) ) We now see a lot of people around the graves. It looks almost like a party! Chatting, shouting, singing, laughing! Most of all they seem to make fun of each other! Especially of the way in which they lived - with their unfulfilled dreams, their lack of ambition, their petty jealousy, their lives wasted, or just the plain abundant bad luck. And they ridicule the various ways in which they died: a young man died in a car accident. Another one was decapitated during the 2nd world war. The mother in law that seemed to outlive everyone, but was finally buried by her son in law (who had nothing but hate for her). The fiddler who spent most of his life playing at weddings - and drinking. The young woman who died of cancer. It is more and more noisy, almost as if they are drunk! Talking over each other, laughing, etc.
But suddenly we see the first shy traces of morning light. The moon is covered by clouds again. Sentences and words become more and more disjointed again. Eventually only isolated syllables and sounds - whispers.
It is all quiet again. The fog is still there. Curtain down. Only the instrumental ensemble: sunrise.

I also want to write a "mystical" orchestral piece: "Resurrection". I don't understand why, but I really want to. I have an impression of it, and the sound world, in my mind.

I want to write a piece for a smaller ensemble inspired by a photo I saw, called "Where the smiles are born".

I want to write an "easy(er)" collection of many small duos either for 2 violins (like Bartok's 44 duos), or violin and viola, or violin and cello. I'm not quite sure yet.

I want to write a song cycle, for male voice and piano, in which each song represents a different aspect of the same one concept, most likely "love". I'll call it "12 instances of love"  (12, or 24, or 15, etc, depending how many songs I decide to do) Each one treating a different type of love: paternal love, secret love, the end of love, passionate love, jealous love, compassionate love, etc.

I want to write an orchestral piece for Sighet, the "memorial of pain" - the political prison I saw last summer.

I want to write some comical and "mad" and colourful symphonic variations on "Twinkle winkle little star"!

I want to write an orchestral piece about the forests and valleys and hills and mountains, and mountain streams, and birds, and bears! :D

etc, etc.

Have you 'thought' the unobtainable note strongly enough?!

Nice bit of 2nd violin "brain" virtuosity in Salome. wink emoticon In one passage, for example, R. Strauss writes suddenly a low E (a 3rd under the last string, G) - without any warning or time to tune down.

Apparently in one rehearsal players "protested", when seeing that. Strauss made a characteristic remark:

"Well, what did you expect me to write, a G?"

But as Norman del Mar writes:

"Strauss did not always expect the players to tune down". There was considerable "method in his apparent madness. In his more patient moments he would explain that if the player 'thought' the unobtainable note strongly enough and tried hard to look as if he 'was' playing it, the audience would never know it was missing."

"Refugee" - for Orchestra

Following my previous post, by the time I saw that video on a Spanish news TV channel, I was already about one third through a piece for orchestra, which I had already called "Refugee". I started it about a month and a half ago - and I finished it last night - after coming back from Carlisle; although I was feeling really, really not well. It is a bit over 10 minutes long. 11 minutes or so.

I'd subjectively say that I worked pretty fast, especially considering that in the meantime I happened to play among other things, Mahler 6, Verdi's Requiem, the John Williams concert, etc.

Plus I also spend a lot of time lately learning ... something else.

I am still not 100% sure about a few things. For example I haven't totally decided yet whether to add horns to a passage or not. Whether to leave the harp glissando in or not. Whether to add a solo double bass to a bass clarinet passage or not, etc But I'll see; for now I think this is the best choice.

If I listened to it, I'd probably focus on 3 things: 

- what I call the "clouds of sound" - for example the harmonics that start the piece (and conclude it, but in a very different context)

- the "activity" - the faster moving lines, often in imitation; which turn into "clouds of sound" themselves sometimes

- the second inversion A major chord - that appears at first "hidden", "encrypted", but becomes more prominent towards the end. This chord symbolizes the utopian dream, hope, that keeps the refugee going, through a terrible plight. The "utopian chord"...

I think about this piece as a journey. But maybe not so much a physical journey as a psychological journey. From episode to episode - "held together" by common "little motives" or "cells". As soon as it starts to settle somewhere, it transforms into something else. 

The end is at least in part a utopian resolution. And nostalgia. The English Horn which should prevail over the other winds; and especially the soft second inversion A major chord mentioned above, in the divided cellos and basses, which appears under the "cloud of sounds" - the high harmonics.

The xylophone and celesta (at times plus harp) form a "special group" quite prominent in a few episodes. Ideally they would be placed close to each other, and not too far back.

Also I am always so affected by the music that surrounds me... The way I subjectively justify it is that I try to absorb everything - I let it "ferment" - and what comes out, hopefully is transformed, metamorphosed. The Ligeti, hopefully is no longer Ligeti, the Saariaho no longer Saariaho, the Mahler no longer Mahler, etc I cannibalize them, ha! Hopefully they become bits of "me"! 

And I always have my "cryptic" allusions to other things. I can't help it. But the truth is when I allude to something, I don't really allude to the original. Rather I allude to a felling, a memory, an impression that remained with me. There are 2 such "allusions" to Mahler 6, for example: the harp in the low register (because the low harp in Mahler 6 gives me the shivers, in those passages with the tremolo cellos, for example; God!!) - and the "funeral" brass, just before the "resolution", at the end. There is nothing quite as "funeral" and as "dark", as a passage for low brass can be!

The orchestra is unfortunately bigger than I originally planned: 3 flutes (3rd doubles piccolo), 3 oboes (3rd doubles English Horn), 2 clarinets, 1 bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, 1 contrabassoon, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, 1 tuba, percussion ( 3 players: xylophone - with quite a prominent part - wood block, snare drum, bells, ratchet, triangle, whip, bass drum, tamtam), timpani, celesta, harp and strings.

Here is a pretty good demo: