My brother and I have developed a ritualistic nightly game entitled “Best Song/Favorite Song,” a trifle of deceptive simplicity in which we take a band whose output we know back to front and each propose our favorite songs and, separately, the songs we feel are the best of the group’s catalogue.
The holidays have in no way diminished the debate about the relationship between the composer and the audience.
Except the cat, who smelled a certain music history book under the tree and therefore couldn’t get to sleep.
The Japanese have a word for the feeling at the end of the year, shiwasu (teachers running), and it all leads up to a climactic December 31 eve when…everybody stays home.
It’s a win-win situation when your creative ambitions actually work well with the systems already in place.
If a notehead is occluding the next note’s accidental, move it on
The 9×9 no-repeat number grids of Sudoku are actually a form of, you guessed it, serialism.
When I realized that the usual way that I compose wasn’t working, I found a huge scroll of paper and tried something completely different.
Is there a different musical ethos between the West Coast and the
East Coast that has to do with the natural environment?
There are many different ways for a composer to go against type: first, there’s the Drastic Turnabout where the “against type” is actually the first incarnation of the composer’s style; next is the Perpetual Chameleon; and a third is the Musical Traitor.