Any further posts will appear on my personal site; check this link for my music exclusively.
Thanks for having listened, and I hope you've found something to enjoy here while I was posting, but as with all things, we've reached an end.
“The rest is silence.”
—Shakespeare, “Hamlet”
A new recording has been premiered on the Facebook page under the title "A Waltz in Winter". A slightly uncharacteristic piece not only in being a waltz but in that much of the piece is spent in major keys while the thematic material is explored.
The piece is also somewhat experimental in that the melody is an extrapolation from a textual source, a treatment of text-as-music, using the words of a certain proposal as inspiration.
Hope you'll enjoy my final work of 2010.
My work can now be found in a few additional places online. After several requests, it's finally available on Facebook, both at that link and in the new sidebar here.
For the interested, it may also be discovered now as part of the experience of the Sixty One.
If you'd like to see it elsewhere, leave your suggestions in the comments.
“Εἰ δ᾽ ἄγε νῦν, Ἐρατώ, παρά θ᾽ ἵστασο, καί μοι ἔνισπε...”
Long already a muse and inspiration to me, as I have mentioned here before, I have written and released this newest piece to acknowledge that she has also inspired me in ways and directions I'd no longer thought open to me.
It's but a little thing, I know, but we work with what gifts we have and this is mine. Thank you, my dear, for everything: my life is better with you in it.
With all my love, then, I present for you, Gabriela, your track “Erato”—the Greek's muse of love for the muse of my own:
Up to the present, I have used the once decent artist hosting service of iMeem to provide my listeners with free, streaming versions of the music I have released and blogged here. Today it was brought to my attention that those links no longer worked but instead were displaying a plethora of unwanted and unintended advertising here. Investigating, I have discovered that at some recent point the blasted behemoth of MySpace has acquired iMeem, and with neither site alerting any of the artists once hosted there about the matter, have removed access, streaming or otherwise, to our works hosted there.
I apologize for this inconvenience, and will investigate as soon as I have the chance, some other means of offering my works for listening here again. In the meantime, some thirty-five tracks of my work are currently available for free listening at the Last.FM site, under the artists Agrypnia and Hexachordum, the latter for bass work.
A small piece this time round, barely three minutes of playtime. It began as a simple piano melody that came to mind one evening earlier in the week, but shaped by the week's events and some dream-time inspiration it has emerged as a small work for violin with piano accompaniment, primarily in E minor, with small diversions into G major and C minor along the way. The title, I think suitable enough, comes from a line in the Mayrhofer poem "Einsamkeit" which Schubert once set to music.
The work may be heard here at Last.FM.
Last fall I found myself lamenting my lack of a Muse, fumbling around with this or that, doing arrangements or covers—just to keep in practice—of some other artist's work for want of my own inspiration. Those of you who've followed my pre-release blogs may recall the grumbling. Yet with the previous post, I had thought—had hoped—perhaps that phase had passed, as new work began once more to trickle out.
I should have been more wary of optimism, perhaps, but so it goes.
And yet, as fate's mysterious ways are wont to unfurl, it turns out that further inspiration was even then making itself known, entering life from unexpected quarters. In the months since, this muse has proved inspiring in myriad ways, but most significantly for this blog, she has brought me round again to music, having so far inspired several new works.
In gratitude, I here dedicate this latest to her, with all my thanks and all my love, which she has also re-awakened.
You may hear it at Last.FM, here: Su melodía oculta (A Song for Catherine).
The title comes from the reported ancient practice of setting aside a stone for every day of life: white, if a good or fortunate day; black, if not. At the close of day, or of life, the stones are counted, and the day, or the life, considered fortunate or not depending on which color predominates. (See here, for example.) As moods and experiences fluctuate through my own life, I am not certain which color so far describes my course; nor, perhaps, am I even sure which is predominant in my music, as I slip from major to minor modes and round again. The title is inspired by that consideration. And the tabulation of counting stones? What more fitting day for such a name than today, the Election.
For those of you who have followed my work, you may have noticed that for a while now the bulk of my releases have consisted of arrangements—Bach, Mozart, Salieri, Beethoven (or here or here), Grieg, et al. That changes with this post, as here, at last, is a return to original work. The credit, inspiration, and ultimately, the dedication for this goes to Ekaterina, to whom, all my thanks.
You may hear the track here
Edvard Grieg wrote a number of lyrical pieces for solo piano, sixty or more if memory serves. I cannot speak for all of them, having not yet heard the lot, but many are quite good. Interestingly, we actually have a few recordings, from 1903 or so, of the composer himself playing his own works, including, or at least a part of, the piece which has taken my interest most recently, the relatively well-known "Bryllupsdag på Troldhaugen"—"the wedding day at the troll-house", which was the name of the composer's own home. Unfortunately, that recording is rather noisy due to the distortion of age, and since, as above, it's but a fragment, I suggest instead, for comparison here if you are not familiar with the original piece, a recording from 1929 of a performance by Arthur de Greef, who was not only a pupil of the great Liszt through the 1870s and '80s but was an intimate of Grieg for some three decades and the composer's favorite performer and interpreter of Griegs' piano works. I link to de Greef's performance below to reveal what the original sounds like when played as the composer intended.
But comparison to what, you may be asking. Well, to what the piece has become under my own "corrupting" influence, having had my way with it. I finished this arrangement a couple of days ago and have today finished a recording of the same. It's actually still for piano, but if you listen to the two, perhaps you can hear the difference?
Granted, my recording hasn't the grace of de Greef or the Grieg recording, but perhaps it's still not entirely without some merit or interest of its own.
Recently, as an exercise, I made a new arrangement of the allegretto grazioso, third movement, of Mozart's piano sonata in B♭ major, K. 333, in which I chose to change the key but more to the point the modality, shifting the piece to a minor mode, and slowing it somewhat to better accommodate the minor. Getting that to the point that I was at least relatively satisfied with it, I chose to arrange the work for string quintet instead of solo piano. For the curious, the result can be heard here.
By contrast, here is Horowitz interpretation of the original:
For the purpose of this post, however, those are really neither here nor there but as impetus for what came after. Thinking about the situation, reminded by a reference to the play "Amadeus", I thought it a shame and unfair that old Salieri's works remain so widely unknown today, despite that, at least in my opinion, many of them are quite good. So I found myself thinking I ought to give him a little exposure as well to counterbalance the Mozart piece.
My available scores for his works are rather small, and recordings of any even more so, thus my options were few, but I settled on what I thought would be a workable option: I would do the two small movements, the Kyrie and Sanctus, from his Mass no. 1 in D major. The only score I have of it, however, is only that for SATB choir and organ, so that is the source I worked from (I'm aware there is a volume available that includes an orchestra accompaniment for this work, but I do not have access to it, so it does not inform the works which follow below).
As with the Mozart, I chose to change the modality to minor—B♭ minor in this case. Only minor modifications were needed for it, outside of the change of mode, but I reworked the organ for piano, and arranged the vocal lines for strings.
Once finished, I found I kept returning to the idea of the rest of the mass to the point that I began working on another piece, and then another, and so on until I had finished the whole work. I may yet tweak a phrase here or there, but for the nonce, here is a (possibly preliminary) recording of the new Mass in B♭ minor.
Da saß ich an deinen Büchern, Eigensinniger, und versuchte sie zu meinen wie die andern, die dich nicht beisammen lassen und sich ihren Anteil genommen haben, befriedigt. Denn da begriff ich noch nicht den Ruhm, diesen öffentlichen Abbruch eines Werdenden, in dessen Bauplatz die Menge einbricht, ihm die Steine verschiebend.
Junger Mensch irgendwo, in dem etwas aufsteigt, was ihn erschauern macht, nütz es, daß dich keiner kennt. Und wenn sie dir widersprechen, die dich für nichts nehmen, und wenn sie dich ganz aufgeben, die, mit denen du umgehst, und wenn sie dich ausrotten wollen, um deiner lieben Gedanken willen, was ist diese deutliche Gefahr, die dich zusammenhält in dir, gegen die listige Feindschaft später des Ruhms, die dich unschädlich macht, indem sie dich ausstreut.
Bitte keinen, daß er von dir spräche, nicht einmal verächtlich. Und wenn die Zeit geht und du merkst, wie dein Name herumkommt unter den Leuten, nimm ihn nicht ernster als alles, was du in ihrem Munde findest. Denk: er ist schlecht geworden, und tu ihn ab. Nimm einen andern an, irgendeinen, damit Gott dich rufen kann in der Nacht. Und verbirg ihn vor allen.
—Rainer Maria Rilke, Die Aufzeichnungen des Malte Laurids Brigge, "Ein Briefentwurf".
There I sat at your books, obstinate man, and tried to understand them as the others do, who don't leave you whole but are satisfied to take only this portion or that. It was because I didn't yet understand fame, that public deconstruction of a building not yet finished, onto whose construction site the mob intrudes, disrupting its progress.
Young person, anywhere, in whom something thrilling wells, be thankful no one knows you. And if they contradict you, those you disregard; and if they give you up completely, your acquaintances; and if they want to destroy you because of the thoughts you hold dear---what danger is there in this, which concentrates you in yourself, compared to the cunning enmity of fame, later, which makes you innocuous by scattering you all around?
Don't ask anyone to speak about you, not even disparagingly. And if the time should come that you notice your name is circulating among the people, don't take it any more seriously than anything else you might find in their mouths. Think: it has become tainted, and dismiss it. Then take another, any other, by which God can call you in the night. And hide it from everyone.
—Rainer Maria Rilke, The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, "A draft letter".
Or maybe not so chipper. This little ostinato is a revisiting and a revision of a somewhat somber little number from 2005. The quality of the recording and sound quality are much better this time around, and some of the progression and voicing have changed. It's a fairly simple affair, but perhaps someone will enjoy it.
Greetings of the Saturnalia,
Daniel
If you're interested, you can hear it here.
For the curious, should there be any: the revisions stem from a contemplation of Mandel'shtam's 1918 poem "Tristia", which opens:
Я изучил науку расставанья
В простоволосых жалобах ночных.
Жуют волы, и длится ожиданье,
Последний час вигилий городских;
И чту обряд той петушиной ночи,
Когда, подняв дорожной скорби груз,
Глядели в даль заплаканные очи
И женский плач мешался с пеньем муз.
And, relatedly, lines from an untitled work of 1920,
За то, что я руки твои не сумел удержать,
За то, что я предал соленые нежные губы,
Я должен рассвета в дремучем акрополе ждать.Как мог я подумать, что ты возвратишься, как смел!
Зачем преждевременно я от тебя оторвался!
Еще не рассеялся мрак и петух не пропел, [...]
The piece has been rechristened "The Science of Departures" after the first line of "Tristia", "Я изучил науку расставанья", "I have studied the science of departures...".
Though I've played guitar, and a few other strings, a number of years, I have to admit, this is an entirely new (to me) method of fretting!
(Alexander Vynograd's arrangement for an eight string guitar of Bach's BWV639 [the 1713 chorale Ich ruf' zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, which was used as the theme for Tarkovsky's 1972 version of Lem's Solaris (pl.)].)
Inspired by this, I thought I'd try my hand at arranging the work for 6-string bass. For what it's worth, you can hear it here.
One that would still "ascend | The brightest heaven of invention," in any event.
(Félix-François Georges Philibert) Ziem (the painter) was dining with two friends at the house of Paul Chevandier de Valdrôme at No. 39 Rue de la Tour d'Auvergne in Paris. The host, somewhat of an eccentric, kept a skeleton in one of his closets and displayed it to Ziem. When the latter met Chopin he told him about the skeleton and Chopin, becoming morbidly impressed with the story, asked Ziem to let him see it. A dinner party was arranged at Valdrôme's house and during the dessert, Ziem mentioned Chopin's desire. The skeleton was fetched by the servant and placed near the piano in the drawing room.
Ziem describes the scene that followed:
Chopin, his face pale and his eyes opened to their extent, had enveloped himself in a long winding sheet, and pressed against his throbbing breast he held the ghastly skeleton. The silence of the salon was all at once broken by the sound of music—slow, sad, profound, splendid music, music such as none of us had ever heard before. Immeasurably amazed we were as the beautiful sounds succeeded each other and were gradually fashioned into the world-renowned Funeral March. On to the end played Chopin, still grasping the skeleton, and so spellbound were we that not until the last note was struck did we really recover our senses. Then we hastened to congratulate the shroud-robed musician, and reached his side just as he was on the point of fainting.
So... anyone know where I can get a Muse like that?
Well, I mean, it needn't actually be a corpse or anything; just something profoundly affecting enough to generate music of such quality. I haven't been doing too terribly much in the way of new music lately, though of what I've done it's certainly been terrible. Thus the search for a Muse.
Tonight, I have revisited a couple of older pieces, one original, one a sort of collage of other works, and made new, and I hope better quality, recordings of the same. If there's interest, I will offer one here for any whose ears will endure it. That one, the original score, is the result of an evening spent with one of my own ghosts on the night of her birthday, three years on from her death. It is called "Nevroză", after the poem of Bacovia that always brings her to mind.
Neurosis | Nevroză |
Outside, it's snowing horribly; My lover's playing a funeral march, She weeps and she falls on the keys, And I lament, and, trembling, | Afară ninge prăpădind, Iubita cântă-un mars funebru, Ea plânge si-a cazut pe clape, Si plâng si eu si tremurând |
You can hear the work here.
In this post, I'll be making the premiere of the first and second movements of my three-part (book of) Job inspired piece, "רחין", that title being the initials of the first of the three lines of text that inspired the piece and its movements:
רוחִי חֻבָּלָה יָמַי נִזְעָכו
(אֶל־אֱלוֺהַ דָּלפָה עֵינִי)
קְבָרִם לִי
The whole score of Opus 89 can be heard here; in a different recording, the second movement ("אֶל־אֱלוֺהַ דָּלפָה עֵינִי") can be heard in solo here, and the third ("קְבָרִם לִי") can found on this blog here.
Tired, sick, feverish and frustrated one night, I turned to the keys as an outlet, and what resulted was a small piano work, named for the feverish mind that created it. Not completely satisfied with it in that form, the work gradually mutated into a work for strings, which can be heard here.
Wrote a new piece for a friend. Piano quartet, with a primary theme in A maj, and a midsection modulation into F#m, with some experimentation with intentional dissonance near the end of the latter before remodulating back to A maj.
You may listen to it here.
Nothing especially clever tonight, alas, just an idle bit of time wasting. You could think of this as what happens when you mix together varying amounts of sleep deprivation, recovering-from-illness, Erik Satie, Chopin and myself—or, "Raindropédienne", perhaps, for short (a combination of Chopin's 15th prelude, the "Raindrop" prelude, with Satie's first Gymnopédie and Gnossienne). It's a small piano work with an ABA structure; in A—a liberal treatment of Am—the left hand is a simple motion similar to the bass of the Gnossienne, while the melody is almost a verbatim transposition of the opening melody of the prelude. In B, we briefly modulate to Cm, and a tiny microcosmic ABA form of its own, where in Ba the bass is a slight variant on the initial bass of the Cm modulation in the prelude, while the right hand takes on a transposed variation on the Gnossienne melody; in Bb, the bass continues to follow the prelude but becomes a transposition of the material from the left hand of the molto tenuto movement of that work, and the melody becomes a Lydian transposition of the right hand theme of the Gymnopédie.
Other than doing the transpositions, stitching the disparate parts together and touching up a note here or there where the original themes didn't quite mesh, there's so little of myself in this piece I hardly feel right putting my name on it. As a result, I won't be adding this piece to my formal catalogue of works, naturally, but it was a fairly pleasant exercise and not quite the hand-mangler Für Elise on the bass proved to be, so I thought I'd tip up a copy here for any who might be interested.
Courtesy of Beethoven, the 6-string, a high-C, pinched harmonics, Cubase, the Zoom B2.1u, the Morley (though only as a volume pedal, for the crescendos and diminuendos), several takes and enough pain meds to make my hands usable tonight. Enjoy Für Elise on six-string bass.
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