Category: Toolbox

For percussion, pitch is problematic. Composers and percussionists both wrestle with the challenge of controlling this very important but often indeterminate element of percussion sound, which generates instability of purpose, function, and application. Instability can create problems when attempting to successfully involve these sounds in a musical composition, written or improvised. On the other hand, instability can create novelty, mystery, and surprise; elements that can be powerful components of a musical composition, written and (especially) improvised.

Pitch is the central element of most works of music, yet many of the sounds produced from the percussion battery contain pitches not prescribed by composer or performer. In most cases, the pitches from two like instruments are drastically different; one player’s “medium” tom-tom, for example, will likely sound far different from another’s. Pitches from one single percussion instrument can also vary as a result of changing beaters, beating spot, muting, or volume. All of these variables contribute to a significant and inherent indeterminacy that presents substantial difficulties to creators of percussion music.

Understanding the Pitches of Percussion

A snare drum is an instrument of indeterminate pitch.

Early appearances of percussion in Western composition (17th through 19th centuries) primarily feature instruments of definite pitch (timpani, xylophone, glockenspiel, and chimes) and those whose pitches are both indeterminate and predominately unrecognizable (snare drum, bass drum, cymbals, triangle, tambourine, castanets, tam-tam, sleigh bells, rattles, and shakers). The success of this second set of instruments is due largely to the difficulty the listener’s ear has identifying the pitches they produce. For these instruments and many others like them, there are three primary factors that effect the ear’s inability to distinguish a clear pitch: noise content, register, and pitch plasticity.

Noise Content

All acoustic sounds are constructed of many different pitches (or frequencies). With traditional “pitched” instruments, the higher frequencies are in tune with the lowest fundamental pitch. This intonation creates a blend, gathering all the pitches together in the listener’s perception into one coherent sound. With blend, the many additional pitches serve to clarify rather than cloud the identity of the intended pitch. With “noise” sounds like crashing waves, highway traffic, or those of many percussion instruments, the overtones are disorganized and out-of-tune, so it is difficult for any single pitch to be identified.

Speaking technically, “noise” is the presence of many pitches sounding simultaneously that are unrelated to each other via a lower fundamental pitch. Many percussion instruments have considerable presence of noise as part of their sound. A snare drum, for example, produces clear pitches from the top drumhead, but the rattle of the snares against the bottom drumhead introduces a significant amount of noise into the overall sound. Instruments like shakers and closed hi-hats have very high noise content, so much so that it is quite difficult if not impossible to identify any single pitch.

Depending on the specific instrument, a different level of noise content may be preferable. For some, like cymbals or triangles, a rich spectrum of simultaneously sounding pitches is ideal; any clear identifiable pitch is considered poor sound. On the other hand, drum set tom-toms are often tuned (“cleared”) and slightly muted for maximum possible pitch clarity and intonation.

Register

Humans have limited ability to distinguish pitches at very low frequencies, so the pitch of certain low-pitched percussion instruments can escape the ear’s discriminating radar. The sound of a concert bass drum in particular survives comfortably towards the bottom of the human range of hearing; overtones sound higher, but are varied and unclear enough to give little clue to the pitches beneath. A similar effect is exhibited by other large drums and large tam-tams at soft dynamics.

Pitch Plasticity

For some percussion instruments, pitch spectrum is a constant variable. Some obvious examples include sirens, mark trees, and bell trees, where a considerable change in pitch is a basic part of the instrument’s sound. Slight pitch changes can also be observed with drums, where the drumhead, post-attack, will relax slightly back into position producing a small downward glissando.

Instruments with the most plasticity are those that have a sound constructed mostly or entirely of overtones. With all acoustic sounds, as volume increases, timbre becomes brighter. This brightening is simply the accentuation of higher overtones. In the case of instruments like cymbals, tam-tam, güiro, and wind machine, the sound is almost entirely a wash of overtones; when volume (and therefore timbre) fluctuates, the spectrum of sounding pitches seems to glissando up and down.

Indeterminate Yet Clear Pitch

Congas sound recognizable pitches, but this instrument is most often used without regard to its pitch.

There are many instruments that produce very clear and recognizable pitches that are still treated indeterminately. Sounding pitches from temple bowls, brake drums, cowbells, congas, temple blocks and other such instruments are easily identifiable, yet when it comes to using these sounds in context of a pitched ensemble, composers will rarely request specific pitches and percussionists will rarely make instrument choices based on pitch. It should be noted that requesting specific pitches from instruments normally treated indeterminately is usually not an effective solution. A brake drum, temple block, or opera gong with the requested pitch can be very difficult, time consuming, and expensive to acquire.

Figure 1 is a chart of percussion instruments in order of pitch clarity. The instruments listed are all those included in my book How To Write For Percussion.

The Composer’s Problem

Most composers spend a large portion of their education learning to understand and control pitch. Incorporating indeterminately-pitched sounds into this thinking can be a considerable challenge. Successful use of these sounds can sometimes require a complete shift of paradigm for a pitch-minded composer.

There are three effective methods of approach.

The first is avoidance; that is, only writing for instruments of determinate pitch. Pierre Boulez’s Sur Incises, a very successful example, requires three percussionists playing vibraphones, marimba, chimes, crotales, glockenspiel, timpani, and steel drums. Often less successfully, when asked to write for percussion, composers will routinely fall back on keyboard instruments (marimba in particular) where they can just write “their music” for percussion with little special consideration. This approach can be lackluster, for when it comes to wielding pitch there are many more versatile and more powerful music-makers in other instrument families.

The second method is to approach indeterminately pitched percussion through orchestration. This is a traditional orchestral usage, where the composer makes careful instrumental choices so these alien sounds do not impinge on the meticulously designed pitched material. In this context percussion plays a minimal role, simply adding color here and there. Most useful to this method are those instruments from groups five and six of Figure 1’s list that sound unidentifiable pitches. Delicious examples can be found in Bartók, Prokofiev, and Messiaen where a gentle cymbal, bass drum, or maraca make pitched sound-constructions blossom.

The third method is to recontextualize pitch function by shifting the means of compositional discourse to other elements: rhythm, timbre, gesture, etc. In this music, percussion sounds are freed from the ghettoization of their pitch limitations and may fully participate. It is here in the rhythmically, sonically, conceptually, and philosophically driven music of Edgard Varèse, Henry Cowell, John Cage, Iannis Xenakis, and Steve Reich that these indeterminate sounds can flourish. More traditional composers have also used this method in moments when percussion is heavily featured—the pitch material becomes sparse, repetitive, or slow moving, often favoring rhythmic function over melody (see works of Shostakovich, Ravel, and Mahler).

But the ghetto remains. Despite the success of works that employ the above techniques, percussion commonly manages to be involved in inappropriate contexts without raising too many eyebrows. This is largely due to creators’ and listeners’ insatiable thirst for novelty, a resource that, for percussion, is seemingly inexhaustible. “That doesn’t sound right” is more often replaced with “that sounds cool,” so much so that creators of percussion music can easily lose sight of the true potential of these sounds. The most common ailment of this phenomenon is music in which the sounds themselves are the primary compositional material of the work. The sounds are the work. In most non-percussion music, the instrument sounds are simply the tools with which the composer creates a composition.

Postcards, for example, are ubiquitous at any tourist destination. The featured photo is usually a simple picture of a museum, church, fountain, canyon, or statue, taken in attractive light from a predictable viewpoint. The landmark is beautiful, powerful, and breathtaking; the postcard is not. The card, without a heartfelt message on the back, has little artistic value—certainly nothing like the value of the subject it documents.

Mere documentation would likely be inadequate for an artistically minded photographer, who may instead use different shapes and colors, find interesting points of view, play with light, and manipulate reference and perspective. Such a document could have considerable artistic value independent of, but still enhanced by, its subject. So too could compositions for percussion, but like the simple postcard, many are not so much art as they are observations of found sounds. The artistic message amounts to little more than, “Dear listener, wish you were here.”

Novelty’s allure has thus created repertoire for which it is not only an aspect, but a requirement. When a fad becomes tired, the whole of the work loses value; once the “cool”, unusual, and exotic become everyday, there is little substance left to maintain our attention.

The Performer’s Role

Cymbals produce a blur of many frequencies that shift up and down with dynamic fluctuations.

Percussion writing’s reliance on novelty has to some extent created a culture of mediocrity, not just in the quality of repertoire, but in the perception of what is and what is not a good sound. For lack of options, lack of know-how, lack of caring, or lack of guidance, percussionists commonly allow poorly functioning sounds which are promptly shrugged off by composers, conductors, and listeners.

The repertoire places percussionists in a unique position of power. Even within the boundaries of correct execution of the score, certain choices can be made that drastically affect the success of the composition. Performers are trained to make such choices in the interest of the work, but many will be limited in some way by the available instruments, a lack of familiarity with the piece, or logistical impositions created by the piece itself.

A percussionist with great ears, copious instrument options, no logistical hindrances, and plentiful time to learn a piece and experiment with sounds will be able to determine the best answers to a composition’s inherent questions. In this scenario, even pieces that have not properly taken into account the aforementioned pitch issues will have perfectly sculpted percussion sonorities. This is an infrequent case, however, and significant compromises must often be made. Unfortunately, percussionists and composers have come to accept these compromises as inescapable casualties of percussion use.

A performer’s most important responsibility is to communicate the strengths and ideas of a piece despite any suspect choices the composer may have unknowingly made. For percussionists this is a particularly challenging task, since in addition to executing the composer’s requests they must also choose their own pitch material. And because none of the parties involved tend to think about these instruments in terms of pitch, this pitch material must often be discovered intuitively, through experimentation, and in the small window of whatever rehearsal time may be available. Certainly, there must be better way.

Although the composer’s toolbox contains the most effective devices for making percussion sound fluent, there is much performers can do. They must first open their ears specifically to this issue of pitch.

• What pitches are sounding from my suspended cymbal and how do those pitches function among the others sounding at this moment?
• Am I able to achieve the proper intonation?
• Am I able to achieve the proper blend?
• Am I serving my orchestrational function?

The answers may illuminate a need for change: a different dynamic, a different beater, a different beating spot, different muting, a different cymbal, or a different instrument altogether.

With indeterminately-pitched instruments, the composer has automatically conceded the decision of pitch to the performer. The performer, when possible, must choose to make that decision based on musical criteria rather than convenience.

The Composer/Performer Relationship

The most perfect compositional uses of an instrument require very little of the performer. There are a handful of compositions, most for resilient media like piano, string quartet, or orchestra, that just work. Simply by executing the bare minimum of the score’s requests, the performers can effectively realize the music. Those requests may not necessarily be easy to execute, but they are always reasonably possible. Such works achieve foolproof success through either economy of ideas or economy of means. A simple composition may of course be realized simply; the true challenge is finding simple means of execution for complex compositions. Therein lies a balance of responsibility between composer and performer, a relationship that will define the terms “simple” and “complex”. Both parties aim for some form of beauty—which can also be infinitely defined—but ideally both will labor to make the common goal as within reach as possible.

The performer’s work becomes more difficult the less-well an instrument is used. Poor usage will make it increasingly difficult for the player to really sell the piece and communicate what is intended. The composer’s work is already a particular challenge just by shear variety of available percussion instruments; add the difficulty of managing the infinite logistical and notational considerations, and “less-well used” can become the norm. But for all the misunderstandings of percussion—dynamic limitations, beater necessities, articulation and sustain, instrument setup—no issue is as fumbled and ignored as pitch function.

The solution requires the understanding of both composer and performer. By turning our ears towards pitch, intonation, blend, and function from the moment of conception through the moment of realization, the true potential of this capricious family of sounds can be achieved. This treatment will bring the repertoire substance and sustainability, so perhaps generations of musicians and listeners to come may enjoy frequent revisitations of percussion works, continuously discovering more to say, more to express, and more to find beautiful.

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Samuel Z. Solomon

Percussionist Samuel Z. Solomon currently teaches percussion at The Boston Conservatory, Boston University, The Boston University Tanglewood Institute, and is the President of the Massachusetts Chapter of the Percussive Arts Society. His book, How to Write for PERCUSSION, has received critical acclaim from composers, performers, and conductors worldwide. Solomon is founding member of the Yesaroun’ Duo and the Line C3 percussion group, percussionist-in-residence at Harvard University, and principal timpanist of the Amici New York chamber orchestra.

Author Eric Ross

In composing for any special instrument, there are several practical matters. What do you want to express? How, why, and in what form? The more precise your ideas, the easier it can be to implement them. Since music can take you into unexpected areas, a composer should be flexible enough to adapt, change, or even revamp plans at any stage, if necessary. One instrument that could really take your music into unexpected areas is the theremin.

One of the oldest electronic instruments, the theremin was invented in the early 1920s by Russian professor Léon Theremin (born Lev Sergeyevich Termen). Professor Theremin had always hoped that his new instrument would lead to truly new music, but throughout most of its history it was mostly used quite conservatively, often in violin and opera transcriptions or in popular musical tunes of the day. Clara Rockmore, the great early theremin virtuosa, felt that the theremin should be treated as a serious instrument, not as a fad or a gimmick. A handful of compositions featuring the theremin were created early on by a wide range of composers, among them Edgard Varèse, Bohuslav Martinu, Leon Schillinger, and Wallingford Riegger. But by the 1940s and ’50s, it was mostly used to conjure the bizarre in the soundtracks for numerous Hollywood mystery, horror, and science fiction movies, including Spellbound (scored by Miklós Rózsa) and The Day the Earth Stood Still (scored by Bernard Herrmann). It also found its way into rock music in the 1960s, adding otherworldly sounds to songs by Led Zeppelin and Spirit. (Contrary to popular belief, the Beach Boys’ hit “Good Vibrations” did not feature an actual theremin. Rather, its famous theremin-sounding riff was produced on a mechanical instrument developed for Paul Tanner by Bob Whitsell in 1958 which Whitsell called the Electro-Theremin.)

However, by the 1990s, digital technology, synthesizers, samplers and computer software allowed the theremin to be placed in context and perspective. Bob Moog began building quality theremins for a larger market. The theremin was “new” again and artists realized it could be used in new compositions. It’s a beautiful-sounding instrument with a distinctly ethereal quality and characteristic sliding tones. It’s played by motions of the player’s hands in the space surrounding the instrument, and is visually very striking. It can be ideally suited for composers of new music.

Before you start creating your own music for the instrument, I’d suggest doing some serious research into its history, development, and use in contemporary music. Your research can begin on the web, which has been a particularly active hub for theremin enthusiasts. For starters, here is some basic information about how the instrument works and how you can maximize its potential in your compositions.

A Little Bit of Science and Some Basic Techniques

To write for the theremin effectively one should know its strengths and weaknesses. The theremin is a monophonic instrument; which is to say, it can only produce one pitch at a time. It has about a five-and-a-half octave range. Its low range can sound like a cello or string bass, mid range to upper range can be vocal-like and the top end is brilliant and piercing. But with effects or MIDI you can extend both the range and timbre of the instrument.

Theremins work on the principle of heterodyning—that is, mixing the output of two radio frequency oscillators to produce a beat. When this frequency is over 50 Hz or so, an audio signal is produced which is then amplified. The theremin is played by changing the alternating magnetic fields that surround two antennae. The resultant waveform is variable. One hand controls pitch, the other volume.

The theremin is difficult to play well. There’s no keyboard or fret board for reference. Spatial perception is only part of it. One must have a good ear, since ear training certainly helps in hitting the intervals correctly. It’s important to be relaxed physically and concentrated mentally to hear the note before it is played. You’ll need to make the right adjustments instantaneously to hit the note cleanly in the center of the pitch. There are several different styles and finger work that can be used to do this. Some players concentrate on the right hand which produces pitch, but the left hand which controls the volume and attack is equally important. In a way, the right hand is the artisan and the left hand is the artist.

The dynamic range of the theremin, which is controlled by the left hand volume loop, is full and rich. Gradual volume swells as well as great sforzandos (sudden shifts in volumes) are relatively easy to achieve. With good left hand control, both legato and staccato are also possible on the theremin. Legato is theoretically infinite as there’s no need to redraw a bow or breathe. Sustained notes and melodies with long tones work particularly well and can be very beautiful. But to avoid a continuous glissando or portamento (glide) between notes, the player must accurately “stop” each note with the left hand, otherwise melodies will sound off pitch, “wobbly” “run-on” and amateurish. Fast skipping tones need to be articulated well, without gliding, which requires judicious hand coordination.

Trills are possible but difficult. Grace notes are somewhat easier. Familiar scales and modes and arpeggios can be played by a good performer. But wide leaps should be avoided, or carefully prepared if precise pitch and rhythm is desired, whereas unmeasured leaps, slides, or random rapid hand movements are easy and can be very effective in certain types of music.

Of course music emphasizing portamenti and glissandi is ideal for the theremin, as is microtonal music, since the theremin can play any pitch—not just a predetermined set of fixed pitches available to keyboards and fretted instruments—and can slide effortlessly between them, which is—in fact—one of the instrument’s characteristic sounds. Another characteristic sound of the instrument is a quivering, voice-like timbre—a vibrato created by the rapid back and forth movement of the right hand. Music utilizing these sonorities will immediately be identifiable as theremin music, but music which abuses them will immediately sound clichéd.

While vibrato is the soul of the theremin tone, a bad player uses vibrato, like a bad cook uses too much sauce. A good player uses vibrato with taste and discretion. Vibrato should be carefully measured. Too much spoils the music, too little can sound dry and lifeless. As a composer, be as specific as possible about speed, width and dynamics of vibrato.

Since the theremin can be loud or soft across its entire pitch range, the theremin can work extremely well with a wide variety of instrumental combinations. It can lay in well with a string ensemble or solo over it. Brass and wind instruments also blend and contrast well with the theremin. For the purposes of timbral contrast, the theremin is particularly good in duets with keyboards or guitars as well as in ensemble with such instruments. Percussion can also set up rhythms and textures for the monophonic theremin to play in. Combining the theremin with non-western instruments can yield interesting results, too. In addition, the theremin works well either as a soloist or as a member of a full orchestra.

When using a theremin in an orchestral context, one of my favorite vibrato techniques is “riding the sound.” Here, the theremin plays above the orchestral sound with a quiet high-pitched wavering tone, roughly following the pitch contours of the melody with the possibility of making comments and highlights. This gives a kind of doubling effect at the octave but not exactly. Another useful technique for the theremin is “call and response” type passages: Have one instrument state the melodic line and then have the theremin duplicate or imitate that instrument or come back with a different but related “answering” phrase or vice versa.

However, when writing for theremin in an ensemble with other instruments, I’d avoid exposed entrances for the theremin. Unaccompanied entrances and phrase endings can be a problem. It’s better to double the “exposed” spot. For example, if your phrase has an entrance on B^b, rather than have the theremin come in “fishing” for a B^b, better to double the note with another instrument if possible so the opening note is absolutely clear. Unless the player has a pitch preview or “perfect pitch”, that note will be hard to hit “out of the air.” Give an audio cue for pitch safety. Long solos should start and end with the orchestra clearly stating the beginning and ending tones. If you require certain complex melodic lines that demand tonal accuracy, you may be better off using a synthesizer with portamento, a D-beam ribbon controller, or even a high soprano or string choir.

While the theremin is comfortable in traditional settings and acoustic orchestrations, it is truly at home in an electronic environment. Here its wide and varied voice can be used to great effect. Electronic effects can greatly extend its range and tone. In the ’70s and ’80s, I used analog distortion, wah-wah pedal, tape delay, and spring reverb. Today I use digital effects or software effects such as digital distortions, delay, compression, reverb, chorus, harmonizers, looping, phase shifting, flanging, and ring modulation, among other techniques. There are tons of effects available. On the road, I use a light weight programmable digital guitar effects unit with my own custom designed patches. I prefer foot controls to keep hands free with a small mixer for effects loops. A theremin can also be used as a voltage controller or MIDI controller to change other parameters of the sound. While some players use the theremin only as a CV controller or MIDI to trigger synths or effects, only the Moog Ethervox has built in MIDI. Some thereminists have used guitar pitch to MIDI conversion boxes. But if this is an area you want to explore, be sure your receiving synth unit can accept glissando or portamento messages.

Acquiring a Theremin: Buy or Build?

Before the 1990s, there were few quality instruments available and fewer teachers to train students in the subtle art of theremin playing. Today that’s changed, but it takes talent, time, work, and direction to develop into a good player. There are some “natural” thereminists: people who have perfect pitch, accurate muscle control, and a good physical memory can play almost at once. But they are rare. Many players come to the theremin from other instruments, and good musicians generally can do well in time. If you plan to learn to play, a few years work, preferably with a teacher and daily practice, should get you to an acceptable level. However, after a valiant attempt, you might decide that you will only want to play the theremin in the confines of your own home in order to help you create music for it, and leave the public performance of the instrument to someone else. Nowadays there are more theremin players around than ever before and you can find them almost as easily as you would any other type of instrumentalist.

Of course, whether you plan to be the next great theremin virtuoso or just want to play around with the instrument to get some compositional ideas, you’ll need to get one. When buying, there are several factors to consider. What is your budget? What level of electronics experience do you have? Are you looking for a beginner model or a professional instrument? There are many good instruments available. It becomes a matter of cost and performance goals. Original vintage RCA theremins are rare, high maintenance instruments. If you’re lucky enough to find one, expect to pay around five figures for it, even if it’s not working. Moog Music offers a variety of instruments, including the MIDI Ethervox, Etherwave Pro, and Etherwave. The first two are quality professional instruments but out of production, as is the Gibson Maestro Theremin. But you may find something online. Price and condition varies greatly.

The Moog Etherwave is still in production, widely available, and sells for around $500. It’s a good entry level instrument, and with some modifications can be a good professional instrument. One advantage is that it’s had good distribution so you can find them in most places. Other pro models include the T-Vox, Wavefront Classic, and Kees Enklaar, among others.

Another option is to build a theremin or have one built for you. There are schematics available, cost is less, and even the electronics hobbyist will have a pretty easy time putting one together. If you’re considering a kit theremin, it’s important to have at least some previous experience building electronics from kits. If you can follow directions closely and you are comfortable with a soldering iron, you can build any kit out there. Kits are also a great way to save money. Even if you’re not familiar with soldering, you might be able to find a friend or family member to show or help you build the kit. Then again, if you’re not the home handyman type, you might ultimately be better off paying the additional money to buy a finished instrument.

Which Theremin is the Right One for You?

As difficult as the theremin is to play, some models are easier than others. Two key factors are linearity and range. Linearity refers to how uniformly the theremin responds as you move your hands around the antennae. Theremins with good linearity tend to be easier to play, as the distance in air between two consecutive notes is the same (or very similar) regardless of where you are along the musical scale. Theremins with poor linearity tend to be much more difficult to play because the distance between notes varies significantly moving from the low octaves to the upper octaves. For example, the highest octave (when playing closest to the pitch antenna) might be spread over only a few centimeters while lower octaves might cover many. Muscle memory plays a big part in finding the right note when playing a theremin, so the more variation in space between the notes, the more variations your muscles have to remember. Range refers to how many octaves you can play on the theremin. To be really useful as an instrumental resource, you want your theremin to have at least a 4-5 octave range. Higher end models offer as much as a 6-7 octave range. But one thing to remember is that the wider the range, the closer the notes are together in the control space, which can make the theremin more difficult to play in extreme cases.

Most theremins have some sort of audio jack that allows you to connect your theremin to an external amplifier. Some cheaper toy models may only include a single built-in speaker. In addition to audio output jacks, you will also find additional output options which vary from instrument to instrument; you should pay attention to these when deciding on which instrument is right for you:

Control Voltage (CV) – This feature allows you to connect and operate older analog synthesizers with your theremin, which can be very useful.

Headphone Jack – This is extremely helpful for practicing without connecting to an amplifier. It can also serve as a pitch-preview, so you can hear the sound in your ear and find the right note before the audience hears it through your amplifier.

Tuner Outputs – These allow you to connect an electronic tuner to the output signal of your theremin as another way to find the right note and stay on key during a performance.

Care and Feeding

Always protect and guard your instrument. Keep it upright, and never store it in a hot, dry, cold, or damp room. Theremins are temperamental. Treat them like you would a fine violin or guitar. Keep the power off until you play. A surge protector is a good idea, but theremins can handle a pretty wide swing of fluctuating current. Set it up on a secure tripod mike stand. Adjust the volume and tuning knobs. You want the tuning knob to be linear at about two feet from your body to the tips of your outstretched finger. Once you’re satisfied with your sound, mark your levels.

Etherwaves don’t require much electronic maintenance but sometimes it is necessary to retune the tuning “slugs.” This can be done at the factory. If you’re familiar with electronics or know someone who is, you can do it yourself at home. Be sure to have the schematics for your instrument. It’s a fairly easy adjustment, but over-turning the slugs can cause problems. Remember the instrument will react differently with the cover on or off.

Additionally, you’ll need two power cords (one as a backup), a power bar with an extension cord, a tripod mike stand with screw mount, and at least 4 patch cables minimum—2 short (3 feet) and 2 long (15-18 ft). You should have a padded bag or a hard shell case for your instruments and a bag for a tuner, a small wrench and a flashlight, flathead and Phillips screwdrivers, plus Gaffer’s tape.

When I travel, I pack two theremins (one as a backup) carefully in bubble wrap and put them in a padded shoulder bag. The theremin is fragile, and shakes, bumps, or vibrations can cause malfunctions. It’s a good idea to mark your instrument and parts with an ID tag. If you’re flying, take your theremin on board the plane with you. Arrive at the airport early, as security will likely require additional time to carefully screen the equipment. If questioned, explain that it is a musical instrument, like a guitar effects box, a wah-wah pedal, or fuzz box. I carry documentation about the theremin if more information is required. Any detailed explanation is usually not necessary, although they may swab you for explosive residue. Be polite and calm and generally there are no problems. Never put your theremin underneath the plane unless absolutely forced to. Bad things can happen to your instrument even in a “hard shell” case. If you’re touring in Europe or Asia, remember that voltages are different, and that you’ll need the right power cord and adaptor. If you have a Moog instrument, you’ll need a 220-volt power cord. Just buying an adaptor may not work, as it may cause the signal to be inverted. For all your other instruments and effects, be sure to bring converter adaptor plugs for each from the USA. You can perhaps buy them abroad, but they’re more expensive and more difficult to find. Adaptors should have round plugs and convert North American to European voltages.

The Theremin in Live Concert

Unless you’re running directly though the house PA system, you’ll also need an amplifier. Clara Rockmore used the classic diamond-shaped cabinet with a 15-inch speaker. These are no longer being manufactured commercially but could be custom built if required. A good bass amp or keyboard amp should suffice and will give you more range for the bottom end of the theremin than a guitar amp. The amp should have a couple of inputs and have a headphone out as well as speaker out jacks. The size of the venue determines what size amp you’ll need. A 15-watt amp is good for practice or small rooms, 40 watts for a medium sized room, and 100 watts or more for bigger auditoriums. It’s often best to run the theremin directly through the house PA with a monitor. Your monitor should be at the same level as the house sound with the theremin “up-front” in the mix. Always get the amp up off the ground. Put it on a stand, table, or solid chair. Your amp cab can be miked if you wish, but a direct signal is usually cleaner. If you have a small mixer, you can use that to control your volume. On-stage effects boxes and sub-mix should be sent to the front end.

Live situations with the theremin must be carefully considered. There are striking visual aspects to a live theremin performance, watching the player create music “out of the air” The audience will want to see the player’s hands. A good lighting plan can improve visibility.

You need to work closely with the sound technicians to balance the output of your theremin. A great performance can be ruined by bad sound reinforcement. Take the time necessary to adjust all parameters of the sound. Work with the sound technicians until you’re satisfied. Certain frequencies on the theremin may cause room resonance, sympathetic vibrations, and early reflections. The EQ on the mixer should be able to adjust. The theremin is no more difficult to balance from the mixer than any other electric instrument.

Find an area on stage to set up your instrument relatively isolated from other musicians, dancers, or actors. You’ll need about a six foot radius to form the “magic circle”, free of interference by others. People or equipment inside this radius will cause the theremin to sound. You should also be distant from other electronic fields—such as other theremins or radio signals—which can cause interference. If you have interference problems, try a few different placements. To make sure you can hear yourself, have a personal monitor or ear bud.

Recording the Theremin

When recording, I like to mix the output of the theremin, taking one output directly to the board, another out to my amplifier and with a microphone on the cabinet. Record both signals and you can later remix. This way you can get both a “dry” signal and your live or “wet” sound. You can use different effects loops on each channel. Take care to keep your levels within the meters. Since the dynamics can vary greatly, it may be good to use a compressor or limiter. The sound should be warm and full with a rich resonant bass. The middle should be like a singer in a small room and the top end range of sound from the theremin can be brilliant or evocative. Once you have a good signal on one track, it’s easy to overdub or multi-track several theremin parts to get a dense choral or contrapuntal effect.

How to Notate for the Theremin?

Contemporary theremin scores reveal a continuum of writing styles from traditional staff notation through graphic scores to aleatoric or abstract. Many are various types of “hybrid” scores that may display traditional elements or be unique to each individual score. The theremin is capable of a great many things that may defy traditional notation. The purpose of a good score is to convey as accurately as possible the composer’s intentions to the performer.

While Varèse and Rózsa both used traditional notation in their scores for theremin, Percy Grainger’s Free Music No.1 (1929) for four theremins is an example of a true graphic score. It is written on graph paper with four lines representing the instruments. The X-axis represents duration and the Y-axis is pitch. The score is not aleatoric; in fact, it’s actually quite specific. All four parts are about equal in difficulty. Its pitch range revolves around a minor ninth. It moves without interruptions from beginning to end, and it lasts for around four minutes. Another type of score is the “ex post facto” score written after an improvisation has been recorded, so that it can then be performed again or overdubbed later. In this case, timed events and other significant features are cued in the score.

A hybrid approach is ultimately the most successful. It allows you to be both specific and flexible when you need to be. If you play yourself, or have the time to work with a good performer, you can write to individual strengths. However, always remember that another player might find such a score difficult to understand or execute, so be as clear as possible to convey the essence of your musical idea.

My own scores for the theremin combine traditional notation with modern notational adaptations and written directions. If the players can improvise well, I leave space for them to be creative within the context of the piece. In these “directed improvisations,” I provide guidelines and allow the players room to express their own ideas to enhance the music.

In Passage for Theremin (Op.53), written in 2001, recorded on Music for Theremin CD (ER-106), pitch is notated but not duration.

EXAMPLE A

Some twelve-tone rows comprising melodic material are indicated. The players are directed to use the row from Example A in its various forms and transpositions as thematic ideas in improvisational areas. Such direction helps to provide unity and variety.

In Ex. B, duration is indicated but pitch areas are only generally notated: low, mid, high.

EXAMPLE B

Later in the score, there are also instructions to imitate sounds like a lawn mower, motorboat, a Geiger counter, a crying baby, a dramatic opera singer and her jealous lover and so on.

EXAMPLE C

You should always include instructions and directions for your preferred electronic effects settings. For example, [A5] from Ex.C above is an effects pedal patch. But these may have to be considered optional, as not every player will have the same gear or rack.

In the opening measures of my composition Prefactory Act (Op.57) written in 2005, recorded on Boulevard D’Reconstructie CD (ER-107), the theremin duplicates the keyboard but with portamento between notes.

EXAMPLE D

I composed my Overture for 14 Theremins (Op.47), recorded on Music for Theremin CD (ER-106), when I was the master teacher at the First International Theremin Festival in Maine in 1997. My students ranged from beginning to intermediate levels, and we rehearsed during the workshops and private lessons. There are some difficult solo parts for myself and some rather easy ensemble parts for the students. Each of the students also had their own 4-8 bar solo with the guidelines to play “something you’ve never heard before.” I wanted to make a piece that would sound good and everyone could play. The music is very quiet and restrained until near the end, when it fades into bird sounds produced by all the theremins in the extreme upper register for the last notes. The result was surprising and effective. Some played high twitters, some created mysterious calls, while others produced chirping noises.

Overture for 14 Theremins (Op.47) uses traditional type notation.

EXAMPLE E

Overture for 14 Theremins (Op.47) also uses non-traditional type notation.

EXAMPLE F

Bob Moog, who was there, helped to get all the theremins in good harmony. For the concert, I spread the players across an auditorium with about six feet between each one for good separation and definition. It’s a world record for the most theremins performing together since Professor Theremin’s “Monster Concerts” in the 1930s.

Whatever your style, with creativity, imagination, and some practical experience, the theremin can enrich your music.

***

Eric Ross began playing the theremin in 1975. Since then, he has performed his compositions on guitar, keyboards, and theremin at Lincoln Center, Kennedy Center, Newport, Montreux, Berlin and North Sea Jazz Festivals, Copenhagen New Music, and the Gilmore International Keyboard Festival, as well as on radio, film, and TV. For over twenty five years he’s led his own ensemble that has featured jazz giants John Abercrombie, Larry Coryell, Andrew Cyrille, Oliver Lake, and Leroy Jenkins, as well as new music virtuosos Youseff Yancy, Lydia Kavina, and Robert Dick. Since 1976, with his wife, Mary Ross, he’s also presented multimedia performances with video, music, and computer art. His latest CD on his own label is Boulevard d’Reconstructie–Music for Theremin and Ensemble.

I am convinced that live theatre is one of the most easily accessible and under-utilized outlets for composers today. It can help composers develop long-lasting professional relationships with other creative artists, it encourages the exploration of new musical languages and compositional techniques, and it can serve as an effective training ground for composers who hope to eventually score film. Best of all, it is comparatively easy to break into and can be done from virtually anywhere. I hope that the information that follows will serve as a helpful guide to those trying to get started in this field, and maybe also win over a few who have not considered it before.

Collaboration

What does the theatre have to offer a composer? Can it really be creatively and/or financially rewarding? How does one get involved in this? There are lots of important questions to be considered. I’ll start by addressing the biggest and most far-reaching issue: collaboration. This is the great blessing and curse of theatre. The composer must understand from the outset that the music is not the art. The production is the work of art, in which the music plays only a supporting part. This is a difficult adjustment for many composers to make. To write a brilliant melodic gesture only to have it cut because it draws attention away from the dialogue; to have a great bit of counterpoint buried under the hiss of a fog machine; to have to compose little fragments to cover scene changes: these are all reminders that the audience came to see a play, not hear your music.

Still from Richard II

No matter how clever your music is, if it doesn’t support and clarify the story you are trying to tell, it isn’t doing its job. This is not to say that there are not moments where the music comes to the fore. I remember a moment in a production of Richard II when a particularly difficult costume change led to a wonderful musical catharsis that turned out to be one of the highlights of the show. The point is that music takes its place along with lighting, costume, and scenery as an equal participant in a larger, more synergistic endeavor.

Working with a creative team can be very exciting. You see costume sketches, fabric swatches, set models, and then get to figure out how the sound of the play will fit into these design concepts. You get ideas you wouldn’t have had by yourself. You build relationships with creative artists of all types who (hopefully) develop a respect for your work. It can also be frustrating. Not having the final word on your own creative output can be a hard pill to swallow. When the director says it isn’t right, you rewrite it—even if you know you are making it worse. If all the designers except you are in agreement, then you have to know when to fall into step and be a team player for the good of the show. The bottom line when deciding whether to get into this field or not is to know your own personality and your willingness to relinquish some of your control over things. For composers who enjoy collaboration, there can be no more rewarding activity than a good theatrical production.

Getting the Gig

For those brave enough to venture into this field, the opportunities are surprisingly numerous. Theatres at all levels welcome the opportunity to work with composers. If you want the experience, introducing yourself to the director at the local community theatre or college will likely generate immediate interest. Most directors are simply unaware of the possibility of original music and are delighted at the prospect. Bring a CD of your music along and you may get offered work on the spot. In settings like this, you will often have to work for free, or for a few hundred dollars. Once you have a few successful productions under your belt, you may be able to move up to larger university productions and regional professional theatres. These pay better, and (more importantly) usually have higher production values, so you’ll end up being happier with the final product.

The Process

Assuming you get your foot in the door and are asked to write original music for a production, here are a few pointers about what to expect.

You’ll need to meet with the director (and, perhaps, other designers) to establish a clear understanding of what the director’s concept is for the show. Ideally, this would happen early in the design stage, but far too often, the composer is brought on last, so you may be required to quickly acclimate to conceptual ideas that are already in play.

The next step is to write some sketches and play them for the director for feedback. They can be very general (“Is this an appropriate palate of sounds for the Indians?”) or somewhat specific (“Every time Sir Toby enters, I thought we might use something like this.”). The purpose here, though, is to make sure that you and the director are seeing eye-to-eye on the broad concepts of timbre, style, and instrumentation. Nothing is more frustrating than spending hours or days writing a large cue and then having it rejected because the director has a different sound in his head. Find this out quickly at the beginning by writing a handful of short sketches that capture the various elements of the show, and once these are agreed upon, then move on to writing the real cues.

Now you will set to the task of churning out cues. Depending on the production schedule and the rehearsal needs of the show, you may have as long as a few weeks or as little as a few days to do this. During this stage of the process, there are a few important skills that you should keep in mind.

Stay in close touch with the director. Play even the smallest cue for the director the moment it is finished. Ask the director how the show is going. Drop in on rehearsals personally whenever possible.

Plan a rigid composing schedule for yourself that takes into consideration the needs of the production. Cues that must be sung, played, or danced to by actors should always come first. Cues that will cover scenic, lighting, or costume changes should come fairly late, since the length of these cues will inevitably change when the technical matters are introduced. Once you have a complete cue list for the show, determine a realistic schedule of when each cue will be ready and then stick to it. Of course the director, choreographer, lighting designer, and cast will all want to have the music immediately (or sooner), but knowing when you’ll get it to them helps them plan their rehearsal schedule and (hopefully) keeps them off your back while you write.

Be prepared to re-write cues as often as needed. Remember that, in all matters, the director gets final say. As a designer, you can feel free to lobby for a specific idea you have that you hope will work, but if the director vetoes it, you should accept it graciously. Failing to understand this is a sure way to never get work in theatre again. As a practical matter, I like to make a large spreadsheet with the status of each cue (not begun, in progress, approved, etc.) on a server where it can be checked at any time by anyone involved. This helps ensure that everyone is always informed.

Now you will need to integrate the finished cues into the production. Since each play will be different, there is no reliable rule as to how this will happen. If the music is to be pre-recorded (either from sessions or samples) then you will need to provide final versions in high-quality format to the sound designer. In some cases, you may be asked to serve as the sound designer yourself. Typically, levels and timings are set during technical rehearsals a few days before the play opens. Always be prepared that something will have to be frantically rewritten at the last minute. Likewise, one or two of your favorite cues are likely to be cut. Just grin and take it. You can include that piece in the concert suite you make later.

Revenue and Business Matters

As with any endeavor, there are some unavoidable business and practical matters that must be addressed. Here are a few of the most important ones.

• Contracts: You should make sure that you sign a contract for any show you do, no matter how small. It should include the amount they are paying you, and whether music production costs come out of your pay or not. Also make sure that they add some statement indicating that you retain the copyright ownership of your works and are free to create derivative works.
• Royalties: Theatrical productions fall into the category of “grand rights” and, as such, ASCAP, BMI, and SESAC cannot legally collect royalties on them for you. If you feel it is warranted, you may negotiate with the presenting organization for a percentage as part of your contract, but this is not typically done for small or short-run productions. If you would like more information about grand rights, see Jack Vees’s article, “Deal or No Deal: A Grand Rights Primer.”
• Derivative Works: One of the best things about writing for theatre is how many possibilities there are for subsequent incarnations of the music. Here are just a few, but more will inevitably occur to you:
  • Renting the score to other theatres who are producing the same play.
  • Creating a concert work based on the music from the piece.
  • Making a CD of the incidental music to sell in the lobby of the theatre.

Preparing Yourself

Still from Antony and Cleopatra

Theatre professionals tend to be extremely intelligent and well-read in the arts. A working knowledge of history, art, painting, sculpture, literature, music, drama, language, politics, and pop culture is almost a prerequisite. I listen very carefully in production meetings and jot down any terms or concepts I’m not familiar with and then Google them so that I show up for the next meeting prepared. While directors often have a surprisingly broad grasp of musical styles and genres, their ability to discuss it is usually fairly non-technical. Be prepared to spend some time figuring out what they mean by things like “It should be more slanted” or “I’d like it campier.”

Creatively speaking, theatre presents a constantly changing array of challenges. Every production must be approached on its own terms, and new solutions must be invented at every turn. I have written music for live musicians, done recording sessions for productions, used sequencers and samplers when the budget or design concept made it advisable, and even sat onstage and played the piano. There is no right way to score a show, and good solutions can only be seen in context. As a case in point, I received an email from a director before doing Antony and Cleopatra saying, “I’m seeing oil drums onstage,” to which I replied, “Can the actors play them?” This simple exchange shaped the sound concept for the entire production and even influenced the costumes (which had to have timpani mallets built into them).

Perhaps the best training that theatre supplies is an in-depth study into the mystifying relationship between music and drama. What notes do I have to change to take something sad and make it wistful? How do you end a scene-change cue in a way that propels the actors into the action that follows? When is silence better? How can I show the subtext with harmony? The answers to these questions occupy me in much of my work, both in the theatre and elsewhere. What little I know, I have learned here “in the trenches”—experimenting with instrumentation, rhythm, dynamics—reaching towards an ephemeral goal of perfectly matching music to drama. It still mostly eludes me, but the pursuit is rewarding.

And then there are the people. Working in a professional theatre inevitably leads to extremely close and long-lasting relationships, the benefits and rewards of which can extend far beyond the production at hand. Directors prefer to work with people whom they trust (both personally and artistically) and will freely recommend you to others to help your career advance. I can say that, for me personally, the friendships I have made through work in theatre are some of the most fulfilling and lasting I have known.

Stephen Lias

The works of Stephen Lias have been performed widely in the United States and abroad. As a theatre composer, Lias has composed original music for over thirty professional productions including I Hate Hamlet at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival and Death of a Salesman at Auburn University at Montgomery. He has served for ten years as composer and Music Director at the Texas Shakespeare Festival.

Lias is the area coordinator for music theory and composition at Stephen F. Austin State University. He serves on both the Texas and National Boards of the National Association of Composers/USA, and is the Founder and Director of The Center for the Promotion of Contemporary Composers (CPCC). He is the Texas delegate to the International Society of Contemporary Music.

Musicians love to talk and write about lots of things related to our work. We talk and write about music. We talk and write about the tools we use to make music. We talk and write about how to make money with all that music we talk and write about.

But few of us talk and write about the bigger picture of how our musical and tactical efforts are guided by three distinctly non-musical concepts that don’t get talked and written about often or openly enough: positive vision, abundant thinking, and a sense of self-worth. Thanks to technology, we now live in a world of vast possibilities and our music can reach millions of people, even if we choose never to rise from our chair. The key to making full use of these extraordinary powers lies with tapping in to the extraordinary joys within us.

Welcome to the musicians’ philosophy toolbox.

Artists are communicators, and the world of communication has changed immensely in the past decade. Yet the way artists perceive themselves in the world has been slow to adapt to the freedom and power we now possess. We’re most likely to have a viable career with our art if we ignore some of the paralyzing rules, paradigms, and myths from the past that are no longer relevant.

Our perceptions play an enormous part in how our life unfolds. Choices we make about everything from note placement to state of mind are determining factors in our careers. If we choose to focus on obstacles and disappointments, it’s likely that we’ll attract more of exactly those problems, because a bitter outlook tends to repel good people and opportunities. Conversely, when we center our thoughts on positive events, we project a sense of well-being that resonates to others and brings wonderful things much closer to us.

Here are five suggestions that apply not only to our music careers, but to our personal happiness throughout life:

1. Reconsider the way you perceive yourself and your worth in society.

2. Reject negative assumptions.

3. Change your reality by changing your perceptions toward abundant and positive thinking.

4. Embrace the notion that art is not a competitive business.

5. Remember the spark and the joy that made you decide to be a musician in the first place.

Following these suggestions can lead toward a vital and viable music career. We’ll begin by talking about self-worth, because everything we do hinges on our sense of it.

Self-Worth

There has never been a better time to be a composer or musician. Artistically, there’s no dominant style to which to adhere; technically, the internet has given us outstanding tools with which to share our work across the globe; and financially, we can publish our own music and recordings and reap one hundred percent of the rewards. Even physically, many of us can choose to live and work anywhere in the world armed merely with a laptop and a wireless connection.

But all of the amazing gifts presented to 21st-century musicians require a sense of self-worth in order for us to fully make use of them. We are the product we are distributing. Our music is one of the most personal things we have to offer, and it stems from our uniqueness as individuals and our desire to communicate to others. The first and most important declaration of our music’s worth must come from us, whether we are giving it to people or selling it to them.

As artists, we can’t fully exploit this enormous power without deeply believing in our work. If we’re seeking to make a living from our music—not every artist chooses this, but many of us do—then we must believe that we deserve to earn money from our output: that it is worthy, and that we are, as well.

As media expands and musicians self-publish, the contemporary music community has gradually released its expectation that artists can only survive if tethered to academic institutions, Carnegie Hall premieres, and glowing New York Times reviews. Yet there remains a lingering impression that when it comes to art, money is a four-letter word.

This would almost be quaint were it not so damaging. We have tools enabling artists to take full control of their careers and benefit greatly from their work. But quietly imbedded in the subtext of our culture is a sense that artists don’t have to make money because we love what we do and would do it anyway, and that the moment one tries to make money from art, it transforms that art into craft for commerce. These assumptions are not only outdated, they’re entirely untrue.

Each of us knows what we deem to have value and merit. We know what we’re willing to pay money for in our lives. So naturally, if we don’t place a value our own work, then we’re not meeting our own standards of what’s valuable. Ouch! That hurts to read, doesn’t it? If we believe that we’re doing good work and living up to our standards, we then have to ask the tough question, “Why do I feel reluctant to ask for proper compensation for my work?” Notice the choice of the wording: not “receive” proper compensation, but “ask.” Is it because of the myths outlined above? Is it because of subtle messages sent to us by society or teachers early on? And here’s one to make you squirm: is it because as long as we hold on to limiting beliefs, we have a reasonable excuse for not making more money?

Creating a career is like choreographing a dance. Our gesture is our music, and the responding gestures come from everyone around us. Each dance begins with what we envision we want. In many negotiations, we end up receiving a little less than what we initially asked for: all the more reason to begin with a healthy and reasonable evaluation of our worth, since if we start at a higher number, we’ll end at a higher number. This is important, because this axiom unfortunately works remarkably well in reverse.

The cycle begins with us, not with the outside world. It has to do with our positive attitude, which in turn has a lot to do with our expectation of how the transaction will proceed. If we clearly envision what it is that we seek, we are in a marvelous position to make it a reality. The more specific the detail of our vision, the better. Each of us possesses far more power to determine an outcome than we realize.

Suggestion #1: If we think what we create is valuable and we are willing to commit to it, then others will feel our commitment and believe that what we create is valuable, too.

Creating Need

Some claim that no one wants what we create. But, think about the advertising business: until we were told that we needed this toothpaste and that deodorant, we had no idea we needed or wanted them. Through the persistence of positive marketing and media presence, the message of need gradually seeps into our consciousness, and soon we find ourselves wandering down the drugstore aisle casually slipping a new item into our basket, willing to try it.

Sound like an approach that could be paralleled in our new music business? Composers and musicians can do a better job seeping into the consciousness of the society around us. We can begin by ensuring that the tone of our message is an engaging one.

If we state that the general public doesn’t like new music, then we’re internally absorbing an expectation that our work, no matter how wonderful, won’t be enjoyed. We’re setting ourselves up for a frustrating experience, and we’re transmitting this negative message to the very people we’d like to reach. If we change our thoughts, instead choosing to say that there’s always a niche market that can be created somewhere for what we have to offer, no matter how inside or outside the box it is, it’s highly likely that such a niche will appear. Not out of the blue; we can’t just sit back, eat bonbons, and await inevitable success. But by beginning with a positive assumption, we create the frame within which we can work hard at all the things necessary to build a career.

No matter how ardent our efforts, we will never be fully effective if we give ourselves negative messages about the unlikelihood of success while we’re knocking ourselves out reaching for it. But if we take the private positive message we learn to give ourselves, and make it a public one, then just like advertising executives we can find ways to communicate about our musical product in such an enticing way that more people will want to try it.

Suggestion #2: Reject the myth that composers and musicians can’t do well. We are all worthy.

Abundance

When we think positively about our lives and are kind and supportive to others, there’s a far better chance that positive and kind things will happen to us. Just being aware of the internal statements we silently make during the course of a day, and catching ourselves when we veer to the bitter side, can produce a hugely positive shift in our productivity.

If you work ardently at what you do and believe you are good at it, and if you have peers who are successful, then there is little reason why you can’t be successful as well. There is room for everyone, because inherently, every artist offers something unique. Negativity is an effective excuse to avoid taking responsibility for your own happiness. An abundant view of the possibilities in your career will usually result in a happier journey through the process of building it.

We tend to get what we expect to get in life. Not always, but often. There’s tremendous power in our ability to envision what we want, because once we can describe it, we can manifest it. Many of us do this in our musical work. We envision what projects we want to focus on, and we draw them to our lives. We then begin the creative process by defining the new undertaking, e.g.: Who is it for? Who are the personnel involved? What are we trying to communicate? What approach are we using? Much of our work naturally has to do with determining parameters. Imagine defining the parameters of what you would like your life to look like, just as you might define what you want a new piece to sound like.

It’s a lot more enjoyable to go through life being kind, open, trusting, and generous than it is to be tense, negative, wary, and hoarding. Our state of mind tends to be reflected back to us. When we’re angry, it ultimately hurts us a lot more than it hurts the target of our unhappiness. Everyone else goes on with their lives, meanwhile we walk around with a dark cloud eating us up. Finding ways to release negative emotions is important. We’re incredibly lucky to have an outlet in music.

Sometimes it seems like there are thousands of composers and musicians wanting to make their mark in the new music world. And you know why? Because there are! And this is the most wonderful thing for the state of our art and for our place in society. What better way for us to become significant to our communities, than to infiltrate them by sheer numbers! This is not something to find professionally threatening.

Suggestion #3: Turn any negative thinking into abundant and positive thinking, and change reality by changing perception.

No Competition

Jealously and competitiveness feel terrible and they’re destructive. When a colleague of ours does well, we should all celebrate, because what’s good for one artist often ends up being good for our art. It doesn’t matter how many competitions there are, or how few slots exist on a season’s worth of concert programming: the only person you should ever be in competition with is yourself. That’s right. You’re best off when you set a personal goal based solely on your art and your vision of what you wish to create and share with others.

It also doesn’t matter what your peers are doing, because if they’re the same kind of genuine artist you are, they’re marching to their own vision, too. The whole point of composing and performing “art music” is that presumably we each have something original to say. The more we say it and stand behind it, the larger our fan bases will become. Listeners respond to sincerity and truth. Authenticity rules.

Many of us have been on both sides of the competition fence: as the submitter to some, and as the panelist in others. While these contests are often frustratingly subjective, art is subjective, which is what makes it different from, say, calculus. If we’ve done our best work and know that it has worth, then we submit it and either it will speak to the condition of the judges at that particular moment of that particular day, or it won’t. The result often has little to do with whether our music is worthy or not. Most of the time there will only be a few slots available for awards or grants, but there are many times more solid, deserving applicants. So the lesson is to not take these things personally, and instead be glad that a few more people around a table now know about what you do. This is how a career is built: through familiarity.

Sometimes when people think about abundance, they think of success as it might be defined by the outside world. But the only definition that matters is a very personal one. We can’t compare our careers with anyone else’s, and we can’t define success by any one else’s terms. We will always have the greatest success when we pursue the things that we’re most excited by and driven to, as opposed to pursuing what we think—or often, what we’re told by others—we “should” be doing to advance our careers. It’s easy to get caught up in the external world’s expectations. With a broad view of the many possible paths we might choose, we can find the one that will lead us to a success that is uniquely ours.

Kindness and generosity toward others is one of the greatest traits a person can have. The same abundant approach goes for sharing information that we come across and helping our peers network with wonderful colleagues. If we’ve banged our heads against the wall trying to learn on our own how to do X, Y, and Z, then there’s no reason for anyone we know to have to reinvent the wheel and go through all of that again. If we’ve figured something out, we should be happy to share that information. What someone else does with it will still be different from what we do with it, because our music and inspirations are all different. The better educated and prepared our colleagues are, the better for all of us.

This is painfully true on a business level. Because colleagues before us have been willing to do the same work for free, or nearly so, it sometimes appears to be a challenge to be appropriately paid. When a precedent is set in which creative efforts don’t have to be properly remunerated, the entire community suffers. Be part of the larger community and think about how your decisions impact others.

Suggestion #4: To be a professional artist does not mean you must be competitive.

Joy

We all wear so many hats these days. With professional demands pressing from all directions it can be overwhelming, and it’s not hard to lose sight of how we initially came to the conclusion that we were meant to be music-makers. It’s helpful to take a moment and reconnect with our personal stories of first inspirations. Recalling that early glee will fuel us through times that are sometimes bizarrely disconnected from it.

We work hard at what we do. Any independent composer who does not have a day job and is not on faculty anywhere, has days that are often 18 hours long, five, six, and occasionally seven days a week. Between the composing work, and all the administrative work that comes with being self-published, there’s just never enough time. But despite working a 90-hour week, one can still feel energized and absolutely happy in these manic pursuits. We’re completely driven to do what we do; otherwise, we shouldn’t be doing it! It’s too hard, and the monetary rewards are often out of proportion with the amount of hours and sweat invested. So if creative work feels more often like a chore than a joy, don’t do it—at least, not as a profession.

But sometimes we truly love what we do and it still doesn’t feel joyous. We often feel overwhelmed, under appreciated, and very tired. This is where the concept of being a whole person, not just a musician-on-legs, comes into play.

Filling our lives with pursuits that are separate from music, and finding joy in other parts of our existence, whether with family, friends, hobbies, or volunteerism, is a way to be refreshed and to make sure we always see the big picture. By being more interesting and more well-rounded people, we become better artists because we have more to communicate and more emotional experience from which to draw. All of this adds to the joy in our lives as musicians and keeps us in touch with basic happiness.

Suggestion #5: Realize that artists can—and deserve to—be happy.

It’s All Related

Now that we all feel warm and fuzzy about our music and the world around us, how do we actually put these philosophical concepts into action? How do we use them to earn a decent living pursuing what we love? Everything discussed here prior to now has focused on the inside: what makes us tick as people and how that relates to our musical life. Now it’s time to look to the outside, and to how we can build a viable career that connects us with others around the world.

An enormous part of our work is based on the relationships we nurture. Networking with people is vital; the intimacy and immediacy of physically meeting colleagues is something that will never go out of style. With the 21st century, artists have gained a significant additional power: the internet, which completely transcends the way we can promote our music. Although we can’t be present with people 24/7 or in several countries at once, our internet presence can.

The World Wide Web is the most effective tool with which to rapidly create an international career. For music artists willing to spend the time necessary to create thorough websites and cultivate professional relationships, this medium is unrivaled and can dramatically alter our artistic and financial profile. Via email correspondence that links to our web presence, we’re able to collaborate with artists and connect with audiences no matter where they live, and often, no matter where we live.

When you establish an internet presence, you are advertising for yourself and for your work. You are letting people across the planet know about what you create and what you presumably care a great deal about, and you are simultaneously putting forth a persona. Your sense of self-esteem will be called upon, and almost always bolstered, by publicizing your music. Many people around the world who until now didn’t know about you, will be delighted to have discovered your work. And the process leads to self-discovery as well, because in order to tell others about what you do, you have to carefully define it for yourself.

The serendipity of the internet is one of the greatest gifts to our profession. The meritocracy it has created encourages each of us to do our best, knowing that we can determine our own path, make our own choices, and be far more responsible for our outcomes.

Reject the myths, the limiting beliefs, and the old paradigms that created preconceptions about how artists are supposed to build careers and conduct business. In only a few years we’ve evolved from a longstanding status quo of the rules and behaviors devised by then-necessary gatekeepers, to a new sense of self and self-determination that has made those rules and gatekeepers irrelevant. There is tremendous power and also great joy in being positive, in clearly envisioning and communicating what we wish to achieve, and in having an open and abundant approach to everything we do and toward everyone with whom we come in contact. There has never been a better time to be a musician, and the world is available for everyone’s notes.

***

Alex Shapiro

Through her website, her MySpace page and her blog, composer Alex Shapiro daily experiences the fulfilling results from the advice she shares, and proselytizes to colleagues in print, at schools, and at the ASCAP “I Create Music” Expo in Hollywood. This article is part of Alex’s upcoming guide to building e-careers. Alex lives amidst nature on remote San Juan Island off the coast of Washington State and is currently composing a concert wind band piece commissioned by the United States Army TRADOC Band, whose Commander discovered Alex’s music on MySpace and contacted her there. Alex’s newest CD is a collection of eight of her chamber music works on the October 2007 innova Recordings release, Notes from the Kelp.

Alexandra Gardner

A great piece of practical advice I received in the early stages of my composing career: Always make sure that you get the best performance recordings possible. Whether you are a composer, performer, or conductor, having great recordings of your work goes a long way towards supporting and enhancing your musical career.

As a composer who often works within the realm of electronic music, following this bit of wisdom has translated into my doing increasing amounts of my own recording and production—to the point where I now supplement my composing habit by working as an audio producer and engineer, most recently in the world of public radio. After spending much time listening to and adjusting, restoring, and fixing music performance recordings for radio broadcast on shows such as Performance Today and All Things Considered, I wanted to share with you some tips and tricks to help ensure that recordings of your instrumental and electroacoustic music are broadcast ready.

Critical Listening

Having your music played on the radio is a fantastic way to reach a broader audience than might otherwise be possible in a concert situation. Public radio and college or university radio stations often have time slots devoted to classical and/or contemporary music, and public radio stations use all sorts of music to fill short breaks between programming. In addition to these possibilities is the rapidly expanding number of internet radio stations. Whether an entire composition is played on a show or a 59-second segment of a work is used as a break between programs, the music will be heard by many. In either situation it will also be documented on a playlist (usually available via the web) so that listeners can find out more information about music they like.

The good news is that even if you don’t have a commercial CD release, it is fine to submit unreleased recordings of your music from live concert performances or studio recordings for broadcast consideration (as long as certain rights issues can be cleared with your performers). However, the recordings not only need to represent strong performances but must also be recorded at a level that meets basic quality standards for stereo broadcast as determined by the producers and engineers at the stations. Making a high-quality recording can be arranged for by the performance venue, a hired audio engineer with their own recording gear, or can even be done by the composer if s/he feels comfortable doing so and has the proper equipment.

Producers handle the first stage of choosing music for a program, listening to the quality of the musical performance and determining whether the music is an appropriate fit for their particular show. Next, the chosen recordings are sent to the engineers, who perform additional quality checks and fix the recordings, if necessary and possible. If a poor recording cannot be repaired, the music won’t be used, no matter how fabulous the performance. Listed below are some essential things producers and engineers listen for when evaluating a recording. This is not only specific to radio broadcasting—these are the elements that make up a high-quality recording in any context. You can refer to this list while listening to recordings of your work, in order to assess what condition they are in, and it can provide a benchmark for listening to future recordings.

Quality of Performance

• How strong is the musical performance overall?
• Are there any problem spots in the performance, such as synchronization or tuning issues?

Instrumental Character

• Can all the instruments be heard clearly?
• Does each instrument sound like it should? If not, what is happening with the sound?
• Do any instruments “stick out” more than others? In a piano concerto, the piano may at times sound more prominent than the other instruments, but a trombone should not drown out the violas.

Surface Quality

• Can the full range of frequencies be heard clearly? Does the tuba sound as clear and present as the piccolo?
• Is the complete dynamic range of the performance represented?
• Does the recording contain hiss? This is literally a hissing noise (think about how an old cassette recording sounds) that occurs as a result of recording at excessively low levels, or from problematic equipment that adds its own noise into the recording. A small amount of hiss can be fixed in post-production.
• Is the recording distorted? Distortion happens when recording levels are too high, and the amount of audio signal traveling to the recording device is more than the device can handle. The effect is not unlike the sound of a distorted electric guitar, but in this case the music is lost. Distortion is one problem that cannot be repaired—once there, that’s it. Distortion is a deal-breaker and will cause a recording to be rejected.

Imaging and Compatibility

• Is the recording in stereo?
• How wide or narrow is the stereo image? That is, how are the instruments spread out on the sound stage? The stereo image should be wide enough to hear where the instruments are located in the space, but not so wide that it sounds like there is a hole in the center of the recording. An orchestra will have a wider stereo image than a flute and piano duo.
• Is the stereo image centered? Or does it lean to the left or right?
• How close or far away do the instruments sound? Ideally, a concert recording should sound as if the listener is sitting in the best seat in the house. It should not sound like the listener is sitting in the lap of the first violin!

Sense of Performance Space

• What does the performance space sound like? The recording should give some sense of the space, so a small hall will sound like a small hall, and so forth.
• How much reverberation is present in the recording? Does it sound wet or dry? This is related to the size of the performance space—a cathedral will have more reverberation than a black box theater. The amount of reverb should be appropriate to the size of the space. If a space is excessively dry, a small amount of reverb can be carefully added during the recording process or in post-production. A large amount of reverb can be reduced during the recording process, but unfortunately it cannot be removed after the fact.
• Is there any extraneous noise, like air conditioning noise (which can sometimes be repaired or minimized) or traffic from outside (which cannot be removed)?

The goal is for the broadcast to sound good on a wide variety of equipment—from a high-end stereo system to an old digital alarm clock with a mono radio. Common adjustments made to recordings include general volume changes, equalization (EQ) to emphasize or lower certain frequencies and eliminate noise, or changing the width and/or balance of the stereo image. Issues that will likely cause a recording to be rejected for broadcast are: a problem CD that will not play properly or that has glitches, distortion, excessive hiss, EQ problems such as missing high or low frequencies, serious stereo image problems, or if the musicians sound very far away.

Here is an example of a high quality live concert recording:

• Silver BreathsAnd now, a poor recording, taken from a video camera:
• Coyote (Mvt. 3)Hear the difference? The first example is broadcast quality. The second is definitely not.

  Practical Stuff

  Sending an Audio CD: An audio CD containing .wav or .aiff files is usually the best format to send anywhere. Make sure the labeling both on the CD itself and the case is very clear and legible. Be sure to assign track numbers to all the pieces—including movements in multi-movement compositions—and include titles, timings and names of performers/ensembles. Tracks should be properly aligned so that they begin when the music starts!

  Applause and Performance Space Ambience: If your recording is from a live concert performance, be sure to keep all the applause and the space between pieces. Producers may want to include these elements in the broadcast. A small amount of editing to cut out very long pauses or extraneous noises is acceptable, but generally it is best to include everything for a live concert feel.

  Test your CD: Although no one has time to listen all the way through every CD they burn, I highly recommend a quick spot check on a CD player, making sure there are no glitches and that the CD plays properly. It is time well spent!

  Always Include the Program: If your recording is from a public performance, always send a copy of the complete concert program, as it will contain important details such as performer names, composition titles, and information about the venue.

  Just Say No

  MP3s: The discussion continues about the pros and cons of the mp3 file format. My opinion on this issue is that mp3s are great for your iPod and for the internet, but not for presenting your music to the world outside the web. Your audio CD should contain the standard 16 bit, 44.1kHz, full-fidelity renditions of your music. Why? Not only does the mp3 encoding process significantly degrade the quality of the recording, but also because the broadcasting chain of events introduces still more processing, which makes mp3s sound even worse. For this reason many radio programs will reject recordings that arrive as mp3s. You really can hear the difference.

  Even if your music will ultimately be streamed over the web, always send the high-quality files, and let the folks doing the show deal with the encoding process.

  And remember, burning mp3s to a CD does not make CD-quality audio! It puts mp3-quality audio on a CD!

  Over Processing: In many genres of music such as rock, pop, and techno, pumping up the overall volume of a recording as much as possible has become common practice. One result of this sort of processing is that it can greatly reduce the dynamic range of the music, which is generally undesirable in any sort of music that primarily involves acoustic instruments. To avoid doing more harm than good to a recording, great care should be taken if compressing, normalizing, or adding reverb to recorded audio.

  Touring A Mix

  Let’s walk through the process of repairing a problematic recording:

  The Scenario: A composition for nine instruments from a concert in a medium-sized concert hall. Great performance, but the sound quality is a little funky. Taking a closer listen, the following issues emerge:

  • In general, the recording level is low.
  • The sound comes mostly from the left speaker.
  • The violin in particular sounds strangely harsh and metallic.
  • Overall the sound is a bit hollow and “boxy”.
  • Air handling noise from the hall produces a low rumble throughout the recording.
  • What is that thumping noise? It’s the pianist working the pedals.

  These problems can result from a combination of quirks in the performance space, from microphone placement (over which one does not always have complete control) or from choice of microphones. Now to perform a few adjustments:

  The Fixes:

  • Raise the level. The reason the levels are low, it turns out, is because there is one really loud moment in the piece, and so as not to cause distortion during that blast of sound, the remainder of the music has been captured at lower levels. Raising the level of all the music a few decibels except for that loud part will increase the volume without ruining dynamic contrast.
  • Adjust the panning. Move the pan controls to the right until the ensemble sounds centered between the left and right speakers. It’s like taking a photo of a group of people, and moving around with the camera until everyone fits into the picture.
  • Apply equalization (EQ):
    • High: The frequency range of the violin lies between 196Hz-15kHz, and that harsh, scratchy sound exists somewhere around 8kHz, depending on the instrument. Using a parametric EQ or notch filter, reducing that frequency will take the edge off the sound.
    • Medium: That hollow sound occurs at about 500Hz, in the middle of the frequency spectrum. Using EQ to cut that frequency will reduce the boxy effect.
    • Low: Employing a high pass filter somewhere between 40Hz-60Hz will minimize the rumbling and the pedal sounds.

  Everyone has their own opinions on sound quality, and how it can be maximized—these are a few options among many. In the end the most important thing is that the recording appeal to your ears. For those of you who want to try this at home, these operations can be done in ProTools, a stereo audio editor such as Peak with some plugins, or while playing your music through an EQ-equipped mixing board.

  Plan Ahead

  If this is all sounds a bit daunting, don’t despair—it is easy and not necessarily expensive to hire a professional engineer to record your performances. In fact, if your music is programmed on a festival, on a regular concert series, or within an academic setting, chances are it will be recorded. Ask the concert organizer(s) about procedures for recording concerts and how you can get a copy.

  Depending on the performance venue and the applicable union rules (performer and house unions), another option is to arrange for making a concert recording yourself. Audio engineers are everywhere and often work on a freelance basis—call local recording studios and companies that provide live sound reinforcement and ask for recommended engineers who would be interested in recording the type of music you make. Many colleges and universities have audio production programs (or music programs with a recording component) with skilled students and maybe even teachers who would be thrilled to record a performance. Call around or post signs.

  Think of a recording engineer as another musician who will be participating in the performance. If you have a concert scheduled, line up an engineer as soon as possible. If you have recordings that you think need tweaking or repair, a post-production engineer can help. In this case a short visit to a recording studio will likely connect you with the right person.

  It’s All About the Music

  In the end, attaining excellent recordings of your music is well worth the investment of time and money. Not only can your performance recordings be broadcast on the radio, but they are also handy in a variety of other contexts – as demo recordings for record labels, competitions, grant applications, and ensembles interested in playing your music. Great recordings serve to communicate all the nuances of the music as clearly as if the listener—in whatever way they may be listening—were experiencing the concert in person.

  Resources (A Few Links To Get Started)

  Radio Programs (Don’t forget about your local public radio and college stations!)

  • All Songs Considered
  • The Composer Next Door
  • Soundcheck
  • Weekend Edition Sunday
  • Weekend All Things Considered

  Audio-Related Information

  • Transom.org
  • Equalization Basics
  ***Composer Alexandra Gardner has worked for National Public Radio for the past three years, and provides digital audio consulting and training services for organizations and individuals. Her own instrumental and electroacoustic music has been performed at festivals and venues including The Aspen Music Festival, Centro de Cultura Contemporanea de Barcelona, the MATA Festival of New Music, and The Kennedy Center. Her most recent CD, Luminoso, is released on Innova Recordings. She currently resides in Washington, D.C.