A Decade of Music, Part 3a

In Part 1, I wrote about my piano exploits; in Part 2, voice. This part is for composition, which is for me my whole musical experience. I am a composer, and that is why I am a musician. It is not that I am a pianist or singer who dabbles in composing, but, as I am finding, a singing composer who is well-skilled in playing piano. Performance never was and currently is not my goal in music, and quite frankly, I dislike performing. There is something about it that, instead of allowing me to open up, causes me to implode. With composing, the wall of the musical score frees me from this. (A similar thing with opera/musical singing: like Carol Burnett, I do not like singing as myself, but as a character, I feel liberated). The game of composing is also more enjoyable than the physical exploits of playing or singing (I don't like practicing all too much, in other words). And I like to listen to and enjoy music as I am involved with it, which solo performing rarely allows me to do, so involved am I in the physicality of it.

I began composing almost before I began learning the piano. In the interim between dropping the saxophone and taking up the keyboard, my mind was awhirl with music winding about and coming out in humming. Then I saw an infomercial for a set of Classical CD's; I loved the music instantly, and I thought to myself that I could write music like that. At the time, the only thing of music I had was an instruction book for saxophone, which had a little music theory inside. Barely understanding what was going on, I created my own staff paper using notebook paper and tried to think through the notes; this is difficult when you don't have an instrument nor perfect pitch. Luckily, I had started tinkering with a friend's piano, so I had some help. My first piece was quite ambitious: a multi-movement suite for piano called Egyptian Sunrise (inspired by those dinky exercises one sees in beginners piano books). It was unfinished and ungodly, since a.) I knew nothing about Egyptian music beyond the stereotypical harmonic minor scale, and b.) I still composed most of it away from the piano (in my head). But it was a start, and I at least had the good sense to abandon this hopeless project.

A year or two went by with what amounted to experimenting; the only thing I can remember writing in that time was a little march for piano inspired by the spring, which I would reuse for a string quartet. During my freshman year, I saw a production of Side by Side by Sondheim, and this led to two things: a desire to write musicals, and an attempt to pick out one of the songs that I really liked, "You Must Meet My Wife." Though I failed at figuring it out, the resulting melody led to my first truly worthwhile piece, "Morning Suite" (what was it with me and suites?), an impressionistic work before I really knew anything about Impressionism. Then, in the summer between freshman and sophomore year, I composed a three movement piano sonata, which I was really proud of. Looking back on it, it has several lovely melodies, but as whole . . . it is juvenile. Around this time, I was also learning how to use Finale (Notepad), and being able to have more legible scores. One day, I timidly played for my choir teacher my sonata, and she suggested that I submit it to the Illinois All-State Composition Competition. Encouraged, I worked on getting it into ready form, but time was running short, and I was beginning to think that "Morning Suite" would be a more suitable option, so I submitted that instead. I was astounded when I was awarded third place in the keyboard category. Repeating this success next year "The Inspired Rag," the lack of compositional self-esteem flitted away, and from junior year on, I was determined to become a composer.