Let me know what you think. Is it too confusing or slow to be useful, or is it a good stopgap to give folks a quick sense of what the piece is about? The service is called Issuu. Thanks to Lifehacker for alerting me to this.

Below is the score of my string orchestra piece Letter to Hungary. If you click the thumbnail, a new window will open (popup blockers beware) with a larger view.

My advice after you get the new window:

• Click the icon with two arrows pointing to the upper-right and lower-left corners. This will give you a full-screen view
• Click on a page to zoom
• Click the “hand” icon to give yourself control over dragging the page around.

Enjoy.

It has been many years since I’ve enjoyed hearing my own music performed this much. Part of it has to do with it being a second performance, as opposed to a premiere. I’m historically (hysterically) too nervous and stressed out at premieres to actually enjoy them.

But mainly, it’s about confidence. Most of my premieres have been under-rehearsed. That’s just the way it is with the new piece on the concert. I’ve gotten used to that. I’m usually happy with the performance anyway, because I care about the overall effect of a piece more than whether the violas cut off right on the downbeat. But when something’s under-rehearsed, everyone knows it, and everyone wonders where the big train wreck is going to happen, and they know it’s going to happen. So, it’s tense. I don’t like tense.

I was thrilled with the Budapest premiere of this piece, which was carried largely by nervous energy. It was exciting and well-received, but just a little rough around the edges, only because of a simple lack of rehearsal time.

In this case, rehearsal time was ample. I had been to one of the later rehearsals, which knocked my socks off, and I witnessed conductor Emily Ray sweating details of the sort that normally go unaddressed in premieres. A tricky rhythm; an interesting-but-correct pitch clash that needs to be tuned; etcetera. So, during the performance, I was oddly relaxed, and just able to enjoy the performance like a regular person.

The brand new San Jose City Hall Rotunda turned out to be a great concert venue. (I’d never heard of it. I live under a rock.) It’s basically a giant (3-4 storey?) glass dome, which looks out onto the street. It’s a little like the Today Show, with the street just sort of “happening” out there behind the orchestra. Actually, during the Shostakovich Cello Concerto, an ambulance went by, which was a drag, but also kind of cool and surreal. But the sound was good, and the atmosphere was elegant.

A couple of excerpts of the performance can be heard here. If you want to hear the whole thing, let me know.

Thanks again to Emily Ray and the Mission Chamber Orchestra. If you’re in the South Bay, you must check them out. Coming up in April they’ve got pianist Jon Nakamatsu. See their site for details.

On the other hand, there’s nothing like that moment when you hear a tutti chord that doesn’t sound quite right, and before you can figure out what the problem is, you hear the conductor say, “can I have a little more from the seconds?”, and then they play it again and it’s perfect.

It’s becoming apparent to me now that I’m not as picky as some composers. This is based on the surprised reaction when I don’t have a strong opinion about some detail of bowing or articulation. Maybe I should be more exacting. Basically, all I care about is the overall effect of the piece. I’m R&D and the orchestra is Sales. Are they adequately selling the piece to the audience? That’s what really matters. I trust conductors with the nitty gritty stuff. (Someday I may learn not to, but not this month.)

Letter to Hungary receives its U.S. premiere on January 27th in the San Jose City Hall rotunda, thanks to conductor Emily Ray and the Mission Chamber Orchestra. Please consult their web site for details.

Meanwhile, I’d been revising Letter To Hungary for its upcoming second performance, and the parts are just about due. I’ve been forced to work at my desk, where I do have Sibelius, but it’s not hooked up to any playback gear.

Yes, over the past four years or so, I’ve become spoiled by Sibelius playback. Fortunately, it’s mostly about tweaking dynamic markings and orchestration, so there’s really no need to play anything back, but today I did grapple with one very important passage that needed some relatively elaborate reworking. It was a struggle, but I got it done.

I’m not sure how I feel about this phenomenon with Sibelius. I was never one of those geniuses who writes everything in his head, but I did use to be able to accomplish a lot without being able to play back what I was writing. You know… back when it was pencil and paper. In cases where I needed to hear how harmonies progressed, I would plonk it out on the piano. But here’s the thing: I’m not a good pianist, and I rarely write for piano. Sibelius playback has saved me countless hours trying to work out composition problems by playing back exactly what’s on the page instead of the best my fingers can accomplish.

If my inner hearing has suffered, other aspects of composing have improved. Writing for strings, for example, was enhanced I think because Sibelius lets me think orchestrally. Also, I work much more quickly now than ever. I’ve learned to get my ideas down without agonizing over whether they’ll work. I play back frequently and do trial and error and triage until the problems are solved.

As for my revisions, I’m mostly satisfied. I had shown the piece to my former teacher (thanks, C.S.!), who had some wonderful suggestions. One in particular I simply can’t pull off under the current circumstances, which I regret.

After this, I’m just holding off on composing until I get my room back. I guess I’ll catch up on paperwork

• For some reason, I’ve been seeking out and enjoying all kinds of folk music, including what’s known as “folk rock”. I guess I’m craving purity. Something I never thought I’d say in a million years: I like Bob Dylan.
• I have been on a roller coaster ride surrounding the possibility of my working on a very exciting project. Details will appear in a future post if the outcome is positive.
• My ability to read Yiddish has improved, but it will now all go out the window, because suddenly I want to learn Finnish. (This is a 20-year-old pattern with me.)
• Don’t even get me started on foreign names for various rodents
• I have finished a small portion of a musical theater piece, which is the only way I can get permission to use this particular source material. As I lose hair, I gain humility.
• My recent piece Letter to Hungary has been programmed by the Mission Chamber Orchestra in San Jose for next January (details coming).
• Within a matter of a few days, all of the following items broke
  • Sunglasses
  • Shoes
  • Internet connection
  • VOIP phone service
  • Drip coffee maker. (I’m now one of those annoying, self-righteous presspot people.)
• I “failed to appear” for jury duty. (No contest; I just plain forgot.) And now I must go brave San Francisco’s miserable public transportation system and the even more miserable “Hall of Justice”, and make it right.

About the Event
The American Composers’ Podium is the brainchild of conductor Alberto Santana, stemming from the odd reality that American music is largely unknown in Hungary. This is something I observed there in the early 90′s, and I was surprised to learn that it is still the case. When I lived there the only American music people seemed to know about was John Cage and Steve Reich. So, as an American composer, I naturally welcome this idea.

Left to Right: Myself, composer Sara Doncaster, conductor Alberto Santana, soprano Nanci Weneck, horn soloist Imre Magyari, composer Malcolm Hawkins.
Photo credit: Robin Carduner

This year’s Podium included world premieres of three newly commissioned works (mine included), plus the Hungarian premiere (!) of Barber’s Symphony No. 2. In addition to my Letter to Hungary, which opened the concert, we had the priviledge of hearing Sara Doncaster‘s very beautiful Song of Nature and Three Maidens, an impressive horn concerto by Malcolm Hawkins. Alberto closed the concert with Barber’s Adagio for Strings. We three composers had never met before. I was glad to meet both of them and thoroughly enjoyed both of their company during the days leading up to the concert.

Sara’s work was for soprano and string orchestra, and featured a young American soprano, Nanci Weneck, who’s lived in Budapest for five years now. Remember that name. Trust me. Although we’d never met before, Nanci and I have in common the same Philadelphia mentor, Sean Deibler, who was responsible for both of us studying in Budapest, albeit during different eras.

Many thanks to the American Embassy in Budapest, who gave this event its full support. Not only did the embassy provide a lovely reception, but the ambassador himself was present and made a speech before the concert.

About the Venue
The building now used by the Italian Culture Institute in Budapest was the home of the Hungarian Parliament from 1867-1902. When I lived in Budapest, the Italian Institute either didn’t exist, or was not used as a concert venue, so I originally responded with a shrug to the news that this would be the venue. In the time since, however, it has become not only one of the main classical concert venues, but also a sought-after recording space. The acoustics in the concert hall are phenomenal. Except for a mural on the wall behind the stage (which I did not take the time to study), it’s a relatively plain room with an extremely high ceiling.

HCSO Rehearsal at the Italian Institute

How did my piece go?
As far as I can tell, Letter To Hungary was very warmly received. I mean, no one was going to come up to me and tell me the piece was terrible, so I only got positive feedback. Of course, a couple of things were working in its favor. For one thing, since it was specifically written as a concert opener, it’s a bit of a crowd pleaser, on top of which the basis on Hungarian folk music was sure to endear it to a Hungarian audience. Also, in my brief talk before the piece was performed, I opened with a bit of Hungarian, which is something Hungarians always appreciate. In fact, I’d gotten as far as “jó estét” (good evening) before they erupted into applause, to my delight and embarrassment.

Alberto Santana led a spirited and emotional performance. It was particularly gratifying to hear his reading of the slow opening, which had been particularly hard to listen to on my Sibelius playback. His approach to the scherzo at the end was suitably energetic — swashbuckling even, and the orchestra responded with vigor. So regardless of what the audience may have thought, I was a happy camper.

The orchestra was quite a bit smaller than what I was picturing while writing the piece, so there were some spots that didn’t quite work as desired. There are some places in the piece where the sections divide into as many as four parts. But these guys were pros, and they figured out how to make it work. So, while some of it wasn’t as robust as what I was picturing, the overall effect was just fine.

The only real sad news is that no recording was made of the concert. I’ll now be working on some minor revisions and seeking out future performances, so hopefully it will be recorded someday.

Visiting Budapest after 13 years was wonderful and surreal. I’d been reading up on it recently, and had come to expect drastic changes, but I was very relieved to observe that in fact very little had changed. Sure, there were a lot more shiny stores and a lot more in the way of conveniences, and yes many of the buildings had been spruced up. But, being there still felt exactly the same; people on the street looked exactly the same, if perhaps a bit younger and happier.

A building I lived in for about 6 months in 1990

My memories of my three years there in the early 90′s are so unbelievably vivid that the experience was a bit like what it must be like to travel into the future. Suddenly, the lousy state-owned Russian restaurant on Andr�ssy �t wasn’t there anymore, replaced by a Chinese restaurant. Suddenly the Blue Metro line had become extremely rundown. Suddenly, there were a great many interesting, well-lit, well-decorated restaurants and bars all around the city. Suddenly, there were people out and about at all hours.

It was also a surprise how immediately I felt right at home — like I’d never left. By Thursday I was pretty much thinking in Hungarian again, which was nice. I’d been brushing up over the past year or so (coincidentally to this commission). But I found myself in some very strange situations. For example, one day a woman approached me on the street asking if I had change for the parking meter. I had no trouble understanding what she wanted, or even responding (which would have been a problem up until about a year ago). The trouble was that I didn’t know the new coinage! Here was this foreign guy, clearly having been in Budapest and understanding the language, but acting like a tourist with the money. She must have thought I was nuts.

More observations and anecdotes coming soon…

There are many details I’d like to share, but no time right now. I will be fleshing out this post, but it might not happen this week. Off to D.C. for Thanksgiving. Sigh.

Just came from a rehearsal. Words cannot describe how good it is to hear live instruments playing what you’ve only heard in your head or via MIDI playback. A few tempo disputes, which we’ll surely settle over a few rounds of p�linka later on. Otherwise, hooray!

I’m sitting in an airless, smokey flourescent-lit internet caf�. Must go now. Must ….. breathe…. air…..

UPDATE: Here is said internet cafe. The the right of it is Budapest’s first Burger King, which opened when I lived here around 1991. It was said to be the largest Burger King in the world at the time. Shrug. It had wonderfully tacky decor. I must go and see if they’ve toned it down.