This time around, I discussed active listening and used examples of music from different movies. After practicing on a few famous themes (from Star Wars and Jaws) we then listened to some music to decide what “pictures” we heard. I used the “Moonlight Sonata” and “Flight of the Bumble Bee,” for instance.

I was amazed how sharp these kids were!

Richard Russell lecturing about a movie score

After the school day, I stuck around to help with a rehearsal of “Winner Takes All!”, the new musical I’ve written with my collaborator, Emily Clare Thompson. Here’s a picture of her rehearsing with one of our young leads.

Emily Clare Thomson rehearses a student for “Winner Takes All!”

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Enthusiastic students!

Once again, my frequent collaborator, Emily Thompson, asked me to lecture to her class of youngsters at the school where she teaches: Central School in East Hanover, NJ. I went on February 22, 2013 and arrived spoke to 5 different classes throughout the day.

The lecture is about how inter­dis­ci­pli­nary think­ing can lead to more cre­ativ­ity. I present the exam­ple of mix­ing lit­er­a­ture and music, draw­ing con­nec­tions between hero mythol­ogy and Beethoven’s music.

The Beethoven image on the wall reads: “Beethoven: Why is he interested in being a romantic hero? What is his famous problem?” Sometimes the kids get it right away — he was deaf! But sometimes I hear “He was grumpy because he asked three women to marry him and they all said no.” Hmm, I wonder what movie that is from?

Here is a picture from the day, but unfortunately I was cropped out!

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Beethoven looks on

Once again my frequent collaborator, Emily Thompson, asked me to lecture to her class of fourth-grade school children. This lecture was held at the East Hanover (NJ) Central School. My talk is about how interdisciplinary thinking can lead to more creativity. I present the example of mixing literature and music, drawing connections between hero mythology and Beethoven’s music. Here’s a picture of me introducing Beethoven.

I presented my lecture pretty much non-stop, six times in a row. I have to give credit to teachers everywhere who do this every day, day-in and day-out. I don’t know how they do it!

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But if you consider the hero myth as an overall aesthetic goal–the heroic journey–you begin to hear it all over Beethoven’s music. In fact, it is so dominant that Scott Burnham wrote a book about it called Beethoven Hero (1995).

I’ve just completed a new piano solo called Dantes Variations in which I start with a heroic theme and submit it to many variations. Quite late in my composition process I came across this image from Wikipedia, and I thought I would share it here. Consider all the fantastic ways you can take your music if you think of some of these ideas: “call to adventure,” “threshold (beginning of adventure),” “helper,” “death and rebirth,” transformation,” “atonement,” “gift of the goddess.”

It sounds like a recipe for a great piece of music! And inspiring: what would be meant by the “helper” in a musical composition? Perhaps a secondary theme, but also perhaps simply an insistent pitch, or even a rhythm.

But I also wonder about how things can be changed up. For instance, what if some of these ideas were taken out of sequence? What if “gift of the goddess” comes first and then “death” with no rebirth?

One last consideration: There are so many variations of heroes. The tragic hero, the anti-hero, the super hero: Can any of these be expressed in a distinct musical way?

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Mr. Deemer narrows his query with some qualifications:

…when I first posed this question to most of the composers, usually they would begin talking about the first time they discovered composing before I had them go back and answer the original question. I thought this was a fluke until the fifth or sixth time it happened in a row, after which I had to specify “Why do you compose¬†now?” and mention that I’d follow up with the “discovery” question. I have found it interesting that so many of us equate “why we compose” with “why we started composing,” and hope that once this project is complete we can all have a clearer picture as to how and why composers get started (and obliquely, how to introduce composition to younger students effectively).

Interesting questions! I think many composers and many creative people can relate. There’s that initial itch to be creative, spurred by some feeling or experience of the aesthetic. For me, personally, I wanted to take up composition seriously when I heard Beethoven; I’ve always answered with, “The way Beethoven made me feel with his Moonlight Sonata, I wanted to do that for others.” This development generally leads to some style imitation, and is the why behind getting started. I must add that for me, my musical inclinations were long incubated by a love of pop music, especially The Beatles. I also wanted to imitate them.

But having first experience Beethoven at the age of 13, I began my piano studies in earnest, and broadened my musical horizons. I wanted to make others feel the way music made ME feel.

So that’s the¬†why. But as Mr. Deemer asks, “why do you compose NOW?” There must be another step beyond–not why did you get started with composing, but why do you keep at it?

I have become less concerned with influencing your feelings and more concerned with expressing my own. I wonder: Does this work the same way? Or in different ways?

Feelings, of course, are both personal and universal. We all feel sadness, elation, depression, or love (etc.) from time to time. The “big terms” are universal, but our own experience is quite personal. Two people may feel sad, but in the same way? This might help explain how Beethoven’s (or any composer’s) expression of feeling can be so personal and universal at the same time.

What does a composer do, then? I think you grant privilege to the personal and hope it appeals to the universal. This is the reverse of why I started composing. If music made me feel sad, then I wanted to write sad music. In time, it is hoped, a composer will transition to a specific, personal sadness (or other emotion).

I’ve seen much less “error” (for lack of a better word) when a composer speaks in personal musical terms. On the other hand, when a composer shoots for the universal, frequently he (or she) says nothing specific, but only general.

So, Mr. Deemer’s question, “Why do you compose now?” is very much worth considering. The reason I got into composing still exists, but my perspective on that reason has evolved. I’m less concerned with influencing your feelings, and more concerned with expressing my own.

It is worth the time for a composer to consider where he (or she) is on this spectrum.

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…how to rectify our training with our wild-card penchant for creativity? Artists anywhere will instantly recognize the theme of craft resting on the precipice of abandon, of the intellect versus emotion.

A central problem here is that our education tends to be built upon teaching the craft and the skill. This suggests that artistry itself is not teachable — otherwise, why wouldn’t we just be taught the “art” side of things? Instead, musicians are taught their scales, dictation theory, etc.

That next leap to artistry is a challenge to teach, and this is an interesting element of Black Swan. Natalie Portman’s character is repeatedly admonished to let herself go, to dance with abandon, to seduce, and to not be so (for lack of a better word) perfect. In short, she needs to inject her intellectual side with some passion.

But what’s so wrong with perfect? I found myself thinking of a Beethoven symphony — take the slow movement of his Seventh. There is not a wrong note to be found, it is architecturally sound, it is superbly crafted from the simplest of rhythmic motifs. Much the same can be said for almost all of Beethoven’s music. Where exactly is the Dionysian abandon? If it is there, it’s not something we can exactly pinpoint and then teach to another generation of composers.

So then, what does a teacher say? What does a practitioner of art do? Essentially, how is this done? Natalie Portman spends half of the movie flailing in an attempt to find an answer and cross that line. We, the audience, watch her crack under this pressure. The nearest advice she is given is to go home and touch herself, a salacious suggestion, but one that has a larger metaphorical meaning, too. Getting in touch with yourself is a crucial aspect of artistry, and if you think about it, all the very best artists are representations of a self-aware individual. It’s personality that is expressed; the craft is only a medium to do so.

But there’s an important corollary. Over the last year I have begun to sense that the very best art is that perfect blend of intellect and emotion. The intellectual structure is needed, or it is all just a mess. But without the emotional element, we have only robotic perfection. There’s a “just-so” balance to be found which touches our hearts and our minds equally.

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I thought of this years ago after one of my compositions was performed. I thought, “How will I ever top that?” My answer came from Beethoven, when I wondered if he must not have felt, “How will I top the Moonlight Sonata? The Fifth Symphony?” Of course Beethoven did not stop composing, and we have so many more musical riches because of that; I’m sure I need hardly mention the Ninth Symphony, the Appassionata, ¬†and the late quartets.

So it is interesting to read Mr Cuse’s struggle with what to do next, now that “Lost” has wrapped up its run. As he puts it,

…even the most talented among us, after an intense period of work on a project, struggle with the question, “What do I do next?”

Then there’s the typical struggle of wondering

…what, if anything, would get me excited to go back to work.

My answer has always been to keep writing, no matter what. Keep the creative habit going. Eventually you will find, as Mr. Cuse does here, that inspiration comes when least expected and in the strangest of places.

The full article can be found by clicking here.

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At Central School

This past Halloween season I presented a lecture and demonstration to young grade schoolers at Central School in East Hanover, NJ. The subject was how the literary tradition of the heroic quest can be found in the music of Beethoven.

I presented the lecture six times in a row to different visiting classes — you teachers out there know how it is!

A special thanks to all the students who asked such interesting questions (“Where does inspiration come from?” “How long does it take to write a piece of music?” etc.) and to my host, Emily Thompson Schweer.

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Now, perhaps this is common and perhaps not, but I already knew the Beethoven very well, as my love of classical music came from through listening to recordings. I suspect nowadays most people hear classical music for the first time as a record. When I was a junior high and high school student, I had a set of complete Beethoven symphonies which I listened to over and over again. But what a difference a live performance made!

I thought about these things as I read this article in today’s New York Times about the low quality of playback evident in the MP3 players that everyone now owns.

But iPods and compressed computer files–the most popular vehicles for audio today–are “sucking the life out of music”

states an audio engineer in the article.

True?

In fact, there is a long tradition of worry and hand-wringing over the advance of recorded technology infringing on live performance. Does a player piano, for instance, have the musical soul of a live performer? Does a record? This was one of the big concerns of Theodor Adorno, who cautioned about the commodification of  music through easy reproduction.

I won’t offer any polemics here in favor (or not) of Adorno’s argument. After all, Beethoven was exposed to me via record because, as a youngster, I did not live near a symphony orchestra. In other words, without technology, I might have missed out on classical music all together.

But I will quickly add that nothing can replace the experience of a live performance, so while you may spend lots of time listening to radio, TV, internet streaming, or whatever, be sure to get yourself to a live performance every now and then. You might be surprised!

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The truth is no stock goes straight up in a straight arrow. Wall Street types think it is healthy to “consolidate gains” and to discard the “weak hands.”

I was thinking about this in the context of 20th century music history. There was always so much concern for progress and advancement. No time was every taken for “consolidating” ideas and forming the basis of a new direction in the discipline. As a result, ideas were instead generated and discarded very rapidly. Atonal music, serialism, and minimalism have all lasted a historical blip in time. Contrast this with the slow process of change from Bach to Haydn to Mozart to Beethoven to Wagner. What once took hundreds of years now takes a decade, if that.

Is today’s music more accessible? More tonal? Are we in a state of consolidating gains?

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