A Life in Music

What does it mean to live a life in music?

I remember having completed my first year of study on my Masters degree in Composition. I was in a wonderful and supportive environment at the University of Colorado. My teachers were exceptional, my program dedicated, and I had developed the friends and support system to see me through. In truth, my time at Colorado is the standard by which all other academic (and professional) experiences will be measured. Many institutions could learn a great deal from the way CU runs her music program...

Yet I was profoundly unsure of what I was doing. I was exploding with creativity, yet my craft remained weak, and I had felt battered by opposing viewpoints on aesthetics since beginning my undergrad years. Somehow, regardless of intellectual realization, I was unable to accept pure modernism and abstract art on a soul level. My body rejected it like bad food, which left me utterly confused. Something was not right, and I began to doubt whether or not the musical world had a place for me.

As I entered that second year of graduate study, I knew that my resolve -- and my career -- hung in the balance. I sought guidance on the issue, and prayed feverishly for a clear path forward. As always, answers come from unexpected places.

At the end of a long and exhausting week, ready to go home, my friend Trudy asked if I would volunteer at a conference about Nadia Boulanger. She promised great networking opportunities, lunch, and a free concert of sacred music, so I flippantly agreed. The experience would change my life.

In to the U-of-C poured over 200 of Nadia Boulanger's former students, and the school was suddenly awash in a new kind of energy. I met one of Nadia's last students, now teaching in San Fransisco. I met a sweet old nun who studied with her in the 1930's, and was partly responsible for her conversion.

Nadia Boulanger's students, regardless of their religion, were united in the belief that music was a fundamentally important and fundamentally human excercise. They made no apologies for their rejection of much modernism as mere intellectual drivel, and their music -- as well as the force of their personalities -- all testified to the strength of their position.

I learned of Nadia and Lili Boulanger, and how Lili's death silenced Nadia's compositional voice while unleashing her love of pedagogy. I learned of Nadia's influence on over 1200 musicians, including Lenny Bernstein, Carter, Piston, Thompson, and a certain Igor Stravinsky (pictured above.) I learned of her reversion to Catholicism, her attendance of daily mass, and her incredible piety.

Boulanger, it seems, was a secular nun of music, chaste and faithful, and rigorously demanding of her students.

Truth be told, I don't know if my rather fragile demeanor at the time would have fared well under her strict tutelage. Truth be told, I don't think I would have had the musicianship to last two days in her studio. Yet I remain grateful for the fact that she existed.

"Ye shall judge the tree by its fruit." From the centerpoint of Nadia Boulanger sprang much of the greatest music of the 20th century. Being surrounded by her students, I found myself reinvigorated about both music and humanity in general.

Most shockingly, the name of God and his desire for us was invoked repeatedly by various composers of various beliefs. These people were convinced not only that music was good, but that God wants us to write more of it. As a person of belief, I was honestly shocked to hear such a thing spoken aloud, at a liberal University, by a gathering of composers no less. Yet it pointed to the key missing ingredient in my creative search.

It was a great weekend, and it may have saved my life, let alone my career.
While I hate to write this, I am afraid that if the weekend had consisted of a gathering of former Schoenberg students, I would have likely quit.

What does it mean to live a life in music? Perhaps when I'm 70, I'll have a coherent answer to this question. Yet I'm quite sure I know what such a life is not meant to be, and by knowing the negative, the positive can begin to reveal itself.

Princeton Professor Skewers Pro-Choicers

As Americans, we have the freedom to hold a diversity of opinions. We have the freedom to disagree, and the expectation to do so civilly.

Certain issues, however, do not hinge on opinion. Certain issues, when examined in a full and honest light, pull only in one direction. Such is the so-called "debate" on abortion and human life. There is only one right answer. Which is why I continue to write and post articles on the subject, working in the hope that viewpoints may be illuminated and cleared of intellectual filth and clutter.

Take Princeton Professor Robert P. George's essay, "Obama's Abortion Extremism." The following is a quote in which he compares the abortion argument to the slavery argument:


"Would we describe such people, not as pro-slavery, but as "pro-choice"? Of course we would not. It wouldn't matter to us that they were "personally opposed" to slavery, or that they wished that slavery were "unnecessary," or that they wouldn't dream of forcing anyone to own slaves. We would hoot at the faux sophistication of a placard that said "Against slavery? Don't own one." We would observe that the fundamental divide is between people who believe that law and public power should permit slavery, and those who think that owning slaves is an unjust choice that should be prohibited." (taken from article.)

If you're curious, head over to the Witherspoon Institute's website for the entire article. Kudos to Professor George!
http://thepublicdiscourse.com/viewarticle.php?selectedarticle=2008.10.14_George_Robert_Obama%27s%20Abortion%20Extremism_.xml

Stravinsky's Crawl

"You know, I can tell when you're just composing to compose, and when it really means something."

...So said the punctually wise fellow-composer Michael Bratt to me one week, after I had just been criticized during a particularly unsuccessful group composition lesson.

My own inner-voice told me: "You know, if you had to stand there and explain what you were after, it doesn't work."

Yeah. I get it now. And Mike's words have made all the difference.

I could easily turn this into a commentary on words. Words have power, after all, and we should never underestimate the power of a personal statement. I can easily list the handful of personal and courageous statements which have changed the course of my life.

That being said, I'd like to talk about notes.

I'm generally full of theories as to why so much modern music doesn't work, yet given the nature of art, I'm willing to admit that often it's nothing more than opinionated grasping at aesthetic straws.

As to why certain music does work, however, things are far less mysterious in nature. There are really two levels of musical intent, and modern classical music seems to often miss the boat on both counts.

The first, as my good friend Mike expressed to me, has to do with personal meaning. Clearly, I'm an expressionist. When I acted on such things first and foremost, my work resonated with others. When I didn't, it fell flat.

I can follow this line of thought: clearly, all of our greatest musical expressions, be they the impossibly controlled fugues of Bach or the ripping-raw energy of my favorite Metallica song, all are works of deep personal expression.

I've received two kinds of post-concert handshakes. The first is the polite, contrite "I liked your piece" greeting. The second is the full-grinned and enthusiastic acknowledgment of a deeper connection. For me, there is nothing more gratifying.

I was shocked, when at ISU for the premiere of my Aevum, a woman came up to me after the concert. She said: "I'm a pianist I loved your piece. It grabbed me, and seemed to describe the very turmoils I've gone through this year. Thank you."

Wow. I was speechless. More often, after new music concerts, I'll hear things like "that piece was neat" --or-- "where did you derive your pitches from?" Ouch. I know what kind of comments I prefer.

How much serialism is concerned primarily with deep human expression and connection, as opposed to the extended expression of technique?

Reading the composer posts on www.newmusicbox.org, one can quickly identify the "self-conscious ipod listening-lists" given by so many, as if to prove they can feel as well as think. (For instance, it seems that every instance of Boulez must be balanced by the mention of a punk band. Fascinating.)

Where does such an implication come from? Has new music stopped being primarily concerned with expression? If so, what's the point of writing it?

Yet there is a second and more powerful element, though it is more rarely (in modern times) spoken of. This is the deific element in music, and the lack of it is the main reason that so much modernism falls flat.

When Kandinsky wanted an icon in his workspace, he asked for a solid black portrait. (I'll spare you the details of Kandinsky's and Schoenberg's mutual occult associations, though I'll give a special prize to the first person who can identify the mass-murdering dictator who followed the same philosophical principles!) John Cage, despite all of his ingenuity, ultimately embraced and propagated a relativistic and anti-humanistic philosophy in his life and work. Schoenberg may have been searching for new levels of meaning, but Boulez took his numbers and ran to a place of stifling formalism and seemingly meaningless abstraction.

This is not to say that these artists did not produce instances of haunting, beautiful, and deeply expressive work. It's to say that on the whole, something was certainly missing.

The reason so much modern art and music falls flat is simply because of the direction it points -- which is so often either nowhere, or to the figure of the artist.

Beethoven, for all of his supposed megalomania, never lost sight of his place in the universe, his music consequently pointed from the human creator to the one who created him. When I see Boulez conduct great music, I see a revelry which is ultimately self-contained (though brilliant nevertheless.) When I saw a tape of Boulez conducting his own music, I perceived a joy taken in human ingenuity.

Yet it went no further. The creator was present, but he did not acknowledge his place, only his own ingenuity. It was beautiful, in a way, but ultimately meaningless.

(Not to pick on Pierre: he's merely the great talent by which all of my statements can be tested.)

Take by contrast the (relative) soaring popularity of the "new spiritualists" in Gorecki, Tavener, Part & co. Certainly their compositional chops do not approach that of a Boulez or Ades, nor are they technical innovators. Yet their music rings clearly in places far deeper and lasting than the halls of academia.

I was told a story -- by a nun who once studied with Nadia Boulanger -- of Igor Stravinsky's attitude towards God. He and Nadia (a daily communicant) entered an Orthodox cathedral together one afternoon. Nadia sat to the side, while Igor slowly moved forward to the altar to pray. The closer he got, the more bent he became, as if a giant hand were pressing down upon him. He veritably crawled on all fours to the altar to grovel before his lord. When the entire display was done, the two went merrily on their way, thinking nothing of it. (Think of this the next time you listen to the Symphony of Psalms.)

Stravinsky knew his place.

In fact, if you compare the students of Boulanger to the students of Schoenberg & Co., you have a startling study in musical purpose. While I admire the technique and ingenuity of one side, my heart flutters to the music of the other.

...for a tree is judged by its fruit...

An analogy is perhaps helpful here. I was once told that an artist is like a small child, drawing a picture or doing a dance for their parent. To the parent's refined sensibilities, even the greatest effort of the child will fall artistically short. Yet the parent takes delight in the child's effort, praise, and love.

Some truths, while difficult to prove logically, resonate clearly in the realms of analogy, anecdote, and metaphor. So it is with music.

Regardless of your line of work, one should frequently ask: Are you the joyful child dancing for the love of your parent, giving forth your best effort out of the intuitive knowledge that it is good?

Or are you the selfish child, dancing only for yourself?

If we want to strengthen and build new audiences for modern art, there is only one sure way:

"Soli Deo Gloria."

Convenient Thinking

Robert Reilly, writing on the "Culture of Vice," speaks of self-justifying rationalization. Or, in simpler terms, the art of convincing yourself something is right even when you realize that it isn't (or denying that you are really unsure in the matter.)

This is akin to what George Orwell called "double-think", and what others more simply term "self deception" or "lack of formation." Granted, most liberals -- minor insanities aside -- are responsible and compassionate Americans. Many are my dear friends. One tolerates their idiosyncratic beliefs, hoping that time equates into wisdom. After all, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink.

It's been pointed out to me that I've spent an inordinate amount of time railing against a certain Obama, and not enough time defending "my candidate." To those who have claimed as much, I do believe that you're missing the point.

No, the point is not that I have yet to firmly decide on a candidate (if any.) The point is that the single most illogical and extremist portion of our society -- the far left -- has found a poster-child in Obama. This, despite the fact that he is a professing Christian. I find this fascinating, and as an amateur commentator, I am enjoying publicly dissecting and trying to understand Obamamania.

We live in a reactionary culture. We live in an environment which eschews feelings over reason, and self-justifying rationalization over the pursuit of an objective truth.

Rather than rail more about Obama today, I thought I would contemplate the extreme-left mentality instead. Extreme liberals are like extreme conservatives, save one major failing: extreme conservatives tend to have belief systems that are internally consistent. The far left, on the other hand, rides the high-horse of emotion and rhetoric, because they have little else to offer us. Sprinkle this with some bumper-sticker ideology and soundbite philosophy, and you're ready to vote for Nader.

I mentioned Robert Reilly before. He is the "chairman of the Committee for Western Civilization and a senior fellow at the American Foreign Policy Council." It is educational to read his thoughts on the matter, as they are far superior to what I could muster at this time. Are our leaders engaging in such a high level of thought?

http://www.orthodoxytoday.org/articles/ReillyCultureVice.php

The Pope Opines on Music, Art, and Aesthetics

Whenever I read something like this, I am giddily happy to be a Catholic. The following transcript was sent to me today; it is an excerpt of an open forum between the Holy Father and seminarians. Speaking off the top of his head, the Holy Father demonstrates not only a razor-sharp intellect, but also a deep consideration of aesthetic issues, as well as how the aesthetic realm can both augment and exceed the theological one. Brilliant, and worth a read (or three.)

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Fr Willibald Hopfgartner, O.F.M.: Holy Father, my name is Willibald Hopfgartner, I am a Franciscan and I work in a school and in various areas of guidance of my Order. In your Discourse at Regensberg you stressed the substantial link between the divine Spirit and human reason. On the other hand, you also always underlined the importance of art and beauty, of aesthetics. Consequently, should not the aesthetic experience of faith in the context of the Church, for proclamation and for the Liturgy be ceaselessly reaffirmed alongside the conceptual dialogue about God (in theology)?

Pope Benedict XVI:

Thank you. Yes, I think these two things go hand in hand: reason, precision, honesty in the reflection on the truth - and beauty. Reason that intended to strip itself of beauty would be halved, it would be a blinded reason. It is only when they are united that both these things form the whole, and precisely for faith this union is important. Faith must continuously face the challenges of thought in this epoch, so that it does not seem a sort of irrational legend that we keep alive but which really is a response to the great questions, and not merely a habit but the truth - as Tertullian once said. In his First Letter, St Peter wrote the phrase that medieval theologians took as a legitimation, as it were, a responsibility for their theological task: "Always be prepared to make a defence to any one who calls you to account for the hope that is in you" - an apologetic for the logos of hope, that is, a transformation of the logos, the reason for hope in apologetics, in response to men. He was obviously convinced of the fact that the faith was the logos, that it was a reason, a light that came from creative Reason rather than a wonderful concoction, a fruit of our thought. And this is why it is universal and for this reason can be communicated to all.

Yet, precisely this creative logos is not only a technical logos - we shall return to this aspect with another answer - it is broad, it is a logos that is love, hence such as to be expressed in beauty and in good. Also, I did once say that to me art and the Saints are the greatest apologetic for our faith. The arguments contributed by reason are unquestionably important and indispensable, but then there is always dissent somewhere. On the other hand, if we look at the Saints, this great luminous trail on which God passed through history, we see that there truly is a force of good which resists the millennia; there truly is the light of light. Likewise, if we contemplate the beauties created by faith, they are simply, I would say, the living proof of faith. If I look at this beautiful cathedral - it is a living proclamation! It speaks to us itself, and on the basis of the cathedral's beauty, we succeed in visibly proclaiming God, Christ and all his mysteries: here they have acquired a form and look at us. All the great works of art, cathedrals - the Gothic cathedrals and the splendid Baroque churches - they are all a luminous sign of God and therefore truly a manifestation, an epiphany of God. And in Christianity it is precisely a matter of this epiphany: that God became a veiled Epiphany - he appears and is resplendent. We have just heard the organ in its full splendour. I think the great music born in the Church makes the truth of our faith audible and perceivable: from Gregorian chant to the music of the cathedrals, to Palestrina and his epoch, to Bach and hence to Mozart and Bruckner and so forth. In listening to all these works - the Passions of Bach, his Mass in B flat, and the great spiritual compositions of 16th-century polyphony, of the Viennese School, of all music, even that of minor composers - we suddenly understand: it is true! Wherever such things are born, the Truth is there. Without an intuition that discovers the true creative centre of the world such beauty cannot be born. For this reason I think we should always ensure that the two things are together; we should bring them together. When, in our epoch, we discuss the reasonableness of faith, we discuss precisely the fact that reason does not end where experimental discoveries end - it does not finish in positivism; the theory of evolution sees the truth but sees only half the truth: it does not see that behind it is the Spirit of the Creation. We are fighting to expand reason, and hence for a reason which, precisely, is also open to the beautiful and does not have to set it aside as something quite different and unreasonable. Christian art is a rational art - let us think of Gothic art or of the great music or even, precisely, of our own Baroque art - but it is the artistic expression of a greatly expanded reason, in which heart and reason encounter each other. This is the point. I believe that in a certain way this is proof of the truth of Christianity: heart and reason encounter one another, beauty and truth converge, and the more that we ourselves succeed in living in the beauty of truth, the more that faith will be able to return to being creative in our time too, and to express itself in a convincing form of art.