English Has No Future (Tense)

One learns much from action. As a composer, I am a staunch believer that composing goes hand in hand with a firm comprehension of music theory. It simply is not enough to read about harmony, rhythm, melody, and timbre; these things must be meddled with and heard. Same with poetry, prose, on and on: application is the seal of inculcation. 

What about language? I'm not talking about any specific language, like Finnish or some bushman clicking language, but language itself, linguistics. Like music, should one compose in language to grasp linguistic theory?

At the start of this year, I began creating my own language as a hobby. Knowing verbs were perhaps the most essential aspect of language, I went to work there first. I laid out some rules and what not, dealt with time, how to conjugate. Then came time to deal with the subjunctive mood, which I wanted to make essential. I was using my Wheelock's Latin book as resource to help me deal with this in an orderly fashion. However, the book said that there were some subjunctive constructions it didn't deal with. Intrigued, I googled the subjunctive mood. What I discovered revealed my immense naivete in dealing with this.

Basically, the way we are taught language in school is incredibly basic. I am so overwhelmed with all that linguistics involves that I can't even begin to list the things I learned. Perhaps I'll start with the title of this post. In the everyday use and sense of language, there is of course a future "tense" in English. However, technically speaking, for there to be a tense, the verb itself has to be modified (conjugated) to indicate temporality. English has no future conjugation of verbs in the way, say, Latin does (for first and second conjugation verbs, you add "-bi-" to indicate the future). Our language has two ways that I know of to indicate the future. The modals "will" and "shall" are used. There is a particular charm to this. With a verb in future tense, the action is taking place in the future, but with English modals, there is promise for the action to occur. Another way is through adverbs. If take a present tense word, like "run," and combine it with a future time, like "tomorrow," I have stated a future occurrence ("I run tomorrow.") There are many ways to do this.

I humbly reworked my entire method of creating my language. After much work, I formulated the beginnings of a grammar, and this past week I began creating words. First, however, here is the alphabet, with  IPA  and English equivalents for sound:

a, [æ] "trap"  á, [a] "aisle"   à, [ɑ] "awe"
e, [ɛ] "bet"   é, [e] "baiser" (French)   ee, [i] "peach"
i, [ɪ] "hit"  
o, [o] "Oh!"   oo, [u] "who"
u, [œ] "but"   ú, [ʊ] "book"   ü, [y] "tschüß" (German)
ae, [aɪ] "right"   au, [a͜ʊ] "now"
öe, [ø͜ɪ] no equivalents   oe, [ɔ͜ɪ] "boy"
aeú, [aɪʊ], "fire"
üáú, [y͜aʊ] no equivalents
b, j, r (rolled), g, ph (aspirate "p") c (English "ch"), d, k, v, y, tH (hard "th"), z, t, zh (as in "garage"), th, m, ts, ny, w, s, n, kh (German "ch"), hw, sh, l, h

All in all, some 44 different sounds. I worked it out so that each sound had some meaning/purpose, mostly to help me construct the language.

Some other tidbits: there seems to be 168 different ways to conjugate a verb (so many moods). Tense and aspect (tense answers "time when," aspect answers "time how") are indicated through affixes appended to nouns and pronouns. Prepositions are dependent upon case and placement of prepositions. Now for some words:

hwábüáú: "to be"
tsübüáú: "to have"
voebüáú: "to call, call for"
oohoe: "name"
gá: "time"

I'll be blogging more about this as I progress.

Now for a thing of beauty:

Walther's "Prize Song" from Richard Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg, one of my favorite operas. Walther, wanting to marry Elizabeth, has to win the Mastersinger's competition. Working with Hans Sachs, perhaps the greatest Mastersinger, he works out his revolutionary song while still attempting to use the best of tradition.

I'm a Poet, and I Understand It

My audacity knows no bounds. In addition to having the gall to compose music, I also have the nerve to write poetry. I would love to explicate my passion for Words-as-Music, but it's late, and I'm just using this post as an excuse to post a few poems, one of which I just finished writing. Enjoy!

Plea

Bald prangt, den Morgen zu verkünden
der Sonn auf goldner Bahn,
bald soll der Aberglaube schwinden,
bald siegt der weise Mann.

O holde Ruhe, steig hernieder
kehr in der Menschen Herzen wieder,
dann ist die Erd ein Himmelreich,
und Sterbliche sind Göttern gleich.
-The Magic Flute

Vindicate me, O God! Liberate me, O Lord!
Send down your Light and Truth to free me,
From the Reign of Darkness your Light unchain me!

It does not matter if it is Night
For a Darkness covers the land,
Cast over by the Shadow of Death:
It causes a trembling in my hand.

The People have made the Tomb Mount Zion;
The Empire Masses make the Nether Angel King!
At his Election ring the Bells of Shells
And shrieking Missiles his Glory sing.

Death has taken our Sons
And makes them serve in tanks;
The King has taken our Fields
And causes them to grow rank.

The People's Elect has made them slave
To the Sword their Savior and their Grace the Grave.

But I seek Life,
And in Life I seek Liberty,
And in Liberty I seek Peace.
O sweet Peace, beam down upon us
From the Lord my Light.
In gaining Peace I will know Freedom
From the Lord my Light,
And by having Freedom I will have Life,
From the Lord my Light.

Transfigure me into Liberty,
O Lord of Light!
Bathe me in your freest Brilliance
And I will radiate your Praises
All the Days of my Endless Life.

Ideated Light

 

It shall not be that the shine, the shimmer

Of ideated light,

Which in this world of night

Is Liberation, a gleam or glimmer

That, for a soul entrenched now and ever

Against forces of force,

Charges in like a horse

To save oneself from a doomed endeavour;

It shall not be that this sheen, this shining

Shall ever disappear,

Nor shall it ever near

That dusk when solar light's declining.

That light is but light, a sensation of sight;

But this light is sensation encapsulated,

Compacted into essence by the spark divine,

So that this true light from that light

May be felt and extrapolated

By my soul unto your soul, and yours unto mine.

And thus a relay is made; wherever

This light can be perceived,

It soon shall be received

And enchained freedom be severed never

From the bonds of our wills forever and forever.

"No man has fed himself"

 

No man has fed himself: his fruit can not be his fruit;

What he had turned out to only turn in

Diminished him (by the Law of Diminishing Returns),

For it is said that too many cooks spoiled the broth.

How much worse for the digestion, then,

When the cook and broth are of the same pot?

How much can one eat the returns of turnouts

Before one's self-stomach turns, and gut churns?

How can a man can his self and then believe

Cannibalizing it causes this self to thrive?

Modern man out-gorges the man-eater,

For of the latter there are few,

     and for them, food yet fewer;

But of the former, there are many,

     and for them, food just as much;

He sustains himself on the celery of his garden

     But his plot ferments itself

     And grows rank with weeds.

Yet, the man-eater eats the meat of other tables

     And his table, not just in size

     But in strength as well, so grows

That when others come to feast

The allotment has increased.

Follow this strand, then!

You are not a Wheel-within-a-Wheel,

A divine perpetual motion machine;

That your desire to be such

Can not make you such:

Though there is much within,

There is more without.

A Decade of Music, Part 3b

I applied to only three colleges. They were, in order of desire to go, Yale, Roosevelt University (in Chicago), and Webster University. Unsurprisingly, I was not accepted at Yale; I had applied early and was wait-listed, which was a little comforting, but no luck. I was accepted by the latter two. Roosevelt was a particular draw because it was right in the midst of downtown Chicago, and it seemed to have an excellent program. However, it was very expensive, and they only offered me a $30,000/year loan. There was no way I was going to owe that much debt for any degree, let alone a composition degree. So I must admit that the school I just graduated from was the third (and therefore, last) choice for me. They offered a very decent financial aid package, and I took it.

My audition pieces were Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 3 in C major, Op. 2, No. 3, first movement, and Prelude and Fugue in D major from The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I for piano. For composition, I used three pieces: "The Inspired Rag," for piano, "Annabel Lee," a song using Edgar Allan Poe's poem, and a string quartet. I think they were well received for what they are: quality juvenalia.

I was in choir all throughout college, and for the first two years we had a director who was also a composer. Learning that I was a composer, he asked me to write a piece for the choir to sing for an American music concert in my second semester. Astonished at how quickly I was getting into things, I agreed, and set Shakespeare's Sonnet 55, "Not marble, nor the guilded monuments." I think it is still a decent piece, and I pushed myself to use harmonies more daring for myself, even if they are a bit commonplace these days. Another venue for my works was the New Music Ensemble; I was in it for four semesters throughout college, and such things performed as two Poe songs, an adaptation of the chorale "Es ist genug," and a rock-inspired piece, among others. A violinist asked me, in my second semester again, to work with her on the second movement from Charles Ives' Violin Sonata No. 2, the movement titled "In the barn." It was one of the most difficult pieces I have ever learned, but I loved it, and still do.

Skipping over a somewhat uninteresting sophomore year in composition, my junior year contained an opportunity that was just what I was looking for. I had long decided that I wanted to write for the stage, hopefully in both the opera and musical realms. The head of composition at Webster, Kim Portnoy, was asked by a director from the theatre Conservatory, Jef Awada, if he had a student who would want to write music for the play he was to direct, Cloud 9; Kim thought of me, and I agreed without first looking over the play. I was taken aback initially by the very, very bizarre content and the mediocre lyric writing (there was one song, at the beginning, which introduced the characters in the style of a British march), but I persevered and wrote a bunch of incidental music. The music had to be recorded, and arranging that was a nightmare, but it was done. It all came together and worked wonderfully, I received good praise from several people, including my boss in the music office, Jean, and her boss, the Chair of the Department of Music, Dr. Carter.

Following the composition program layout, I also began having composition lessons with Bob Chamberlin. I don't know a kinder man, and he is very intelligent indeed. His approach, with me at least, was quite laid back. Sometimes I wish he was a bit more commanding, having me do composition exercises or the such, but I think he recognized that I was my own slavedriver and harshest critic, so that, frequently in front of him, I would see a problem and simultaneously work out a solution; even when I was a bit too busy with other school work to compose as much as I wished or should have, he let me run my own show. (Besides, I had two required composition classes which had frequent assignments, and I chaffed under them.)

I had another opportunity to write incidental music for a Conservatory show my senior year, The Wonderful World of Dissocia (I seem to be led into the weird shows), directed a by senior directing major who was assistant director for Cloud 9. Unlike my first foray, I was ahead of the schedule with Dissocia, and this show required me to write music only for four or five songs. One of the songs, "What's an hour?," actually turned into something I very much like. In the semester before this show, Dr. Carter asked me to write the music for the Webster University Christmas E-Card (I guess "Holiday" card, in the spirit of international-ness). I accepted, and working with the person in charge of creating it, I arranged the famous Shaker tune "Simple Gifts," for a "world music ensemble," per the request of the university president; I used piano, jingle bells, glockenspiel, maracas, congo drums, and maybe something else. Time restraints forced me to use an electronic version, but it was very decent, and because I had to fit the music to certain time (which was constantly changing) I had to learn to write in such a manner. The whole thing turned out beautifully.

My big project in my senior year was my one and only composition recital. It caused me much grief before any joy was to be seen. Hoping that I could get it out of the way in the fall semester, I had planned to have it in late November. November arrived, it was nowhere near ready, and I pushed it back to March. The main problem was getting together a chamber orchestra to perform my big piece, incidental music to Shakespeare's As You Like It, which featured an overture and four songs. That was an organizational nightmare, but I managed to scrap together to a group, even if the full ensemble couldn't be there until recital (I had barely a quorum for the rehearsals). In addition to this, I had three art songs, all performed wonderfully by friends, and a Dectet, which was a theme and variations on the tune "Awake, My Soul." All in all, a successful night.

And now I have graduated. Where do I go from here? In April, I submitted my first great orchestra piece, "Triptych Dance," to a contest, and I will here the results sometime this summer. Other than that, I don't have specific prospects yet. Some projects I have going on that moment: a piano quintet, a song or two, the beginnings of an opera based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem Evangeline, and a symphonic tone poem inspired by the painting "Sadak and the Waters of Oblivion," by John Martin.

Some possible commissions include a fleeting request from the Director of the Webster University Choirs to send some choir work his way; another request in passing from a friend to write music for a guitar or a guitar ensemble he hopes to put together over the summer; and, in the same vein, I mentioned to another friend, who wants to set up a piano trio, that I would like to write something for them. We'll see how things turn out.

Graduation, May 7, 2011

(If you want, you may skip my history and go straight to the "life lessons.") 

In the continuing bad judgment of Webster University (Webster Groves, MO), they allowed me to graduate with a degree of Bachelors of Music in Composition. Not just that, but with university honors Cum Laude and Music Department Honors, as if I achieved something. The most unbelievable thing is that I began school here in August 2007. I seem to remember it. . .

Since I was to live in an on-campus apartment my freshman year, my parents and I put many of my worldly possessions in the back of the truck and took off for move-in day. In one of life's many set pieces, we passed by the three schools I had been through up to that point: St. Jacob Elementary, Triad Middle School, and Triad High School; coincidence can be dreadfully sincere at times. It was just like August to be hot and muggy, which are not the conditions you want when you're lugging things around outside. Thankfully, my apartment was right next to a circle drive, so we were able to pull up and move things quickly. I had my own bedroom and my own bathroom! I met my lone roommate a bit later. We never really hit it off, but we also did not have any problems with each other, so no complaints. The rest of the year is mostly not there in my memory. Having an apartment was, I think, actually a hindrance to socializing, since I had a place on campus I could retreat to after class was done. I watched a lot of movies I never had access to previously.

During my second semester, my parents sold the one house I had lived in for my entire 18 years of existence (in St. Jacob, IL), and over my spring break we moved to Collinsville, IL and a much nicer house. This was much closer to Webster, and this allowed me to become a commuter in my sophomore year. It was during this time that I finally began socializing, as much of my free time was spent in the music lounge with other people. Sophomore year was also a blur (or a bore; I am starting to just skim now).

Junior year, much like high school, was probably the best. I was working in the Music Office with a bunch of lovely ladies. I wrote music for the play Cloud 9, which was produced by the Webster University Conservatory of Theatre (or whatever their official title is). Friendships were deepened. I began voice lessons and participated in Opera Studio, to my delight. It was the first time I felt my compositional abilities were reaching a significant quality. 

I came back for my senior year 40 pounds lighter, after fixing my diet. For No-Shave November (and to annoy my girlfriend) I grew facial hair, much to my aesthetic improvement. It was the first time in my life that I felt good about my looks.

From this. . .

. . . to this.

(The nose remained just as large.)

However, it was also my busiest and, in a way, most harrowing year. My senior composition recital, which I had planned for November, was pushed back to March; I had financial troubles; during the second attempt at a recital, I was also composing and rehearsing music for another Conservatory show, The Wonderful World of Dissocia; applied lessons for piano, voice, and composition; regular school work; a relationship: all this made for a crowded year, which didn't end until the very last day of finals (yesterday, the day before graduation). I am very much relieved.

(Start here if you skipped.)

My first lesson from college is that it is too expensive. I urge you, reader, to find a different route if it is possible, or find whatever free money you can. Just avoid loans. They will be a millstone around my neck for some time coming. There is much I could have learned elsewhere for much less. This does not mean that I regret going to Webster, specifically, but if I knew now what I knew during senior year of high school, I likely would have opted out of college.

It would be improper to say that I met amazing people in college. One meets astounding figures in history, where they have no chance to change anymore. Rather, I now know some of the most dynamic and promising people I have ever been privileged to meet. Even a long life is much too short to get to know people, but in overview, these past four years are crowded with vitalistic individuals, and I can't help but be awed by the greatest gift they have given me, a future to look forward to with impatient earnestness, both for myself and them. It may well be that we founder in seas of misfortune; it may well be that we achieve Fame; but whatever will be, I will not take it in with an apathetic heart. The promise of my peers is exceedingly promising.

The world and I are much different now than in 2007. It has not been made safe for anything, let alone democracy. I feel much more out of touch with the way things are, and where they are heading. Now that I am a full blown anarchist (anarcho-capitalist, to be exact), my hopes for the world at large have darkened considerably, as the people rush headfirst into totalitarianism. I run to freedom. Liberty has replaced art as my raison d'etre, and as an artist, I will forever seek freedom in my works (I will delve into "protest art" or the like; I am too pure an Aesthete for that). Yet, all is not bleak, and a considerable amount of people are realizing the truth, as well as The Truth. Events in the Middle East bring hope that individuals of the world will, one day, find true freedom.

Finally, I feel very much a composer. I can now say that every ladder up that I discover reveals another ladder up, and so. I do not know where I will go, but I do perceive a way forward, and that is good enough right now. After much schooling, I am eager to put it to use. Discovering one's passion is a favorite goal of Modern Person, but it is rather hollow if one doesn't realize that the best pleasures are the difficult ones, the ones that cause initial grief but eventually provide sublime fulfillment. For me, a difficult pleasure is something that continuously leads you to ever greater but also more difficult accomplishments, where every height reveals an even greater height. So one's passion in life must be or be filled with difficult pleasure.

At graduation, I sat in the presence of some of my favorite people, and I can only hope that at least one of them think the same of me. All I can say is, it is done. And now it starts.

Now for a thing of beauty:

Befitting the bright dawn of hopeful future, here is my absolutely favorite bit of music, the second act finale of Mozart's The Magic Flute.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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.