[Symphonie Pastorale] [Character Sketches]  ["Out of crooked timber..."]
[Citlaltepetl] [Portrait] [Shapes of Wind]
[Improvisations 1-3]  [Circus]   [Marsden Hartley Songs]
[Scrum] [Banging on Cans] [Four Mile Creek] [String Quartet No. 1]  [Rhapsody for Two]
[Thema: Omaggio] [Wood Wind Water Earth] [Fantasie] [Church Keys] [Degrees of Separation "Grandchild of Tree"]
["...and every island where moved from their place..."] [Geographic Bells] [Parallax 1 "Violin"] [Parallax 2 "Apparitions"] [Remnants] [18700]  [Polyglot] [Trio for Three] [Dance Suite]

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^{Symphonie Pastorale} 

Premier: UMKC Conservatory Orchestra, Robert Olson, cond., October, 2000
Selected for the 2003 American Composers' Orchestra Whitaker Reading Sessions

I put numerous other projects aside, to begin composing Symphonie Pastoral in October of 1999.  For a long time I was familiar with Handel’s Messiah, which I sung as a child and still listen to during the holiday season every year.  The beauty and simplicity of the Pifa, or pastoral symphonie in the first part (no. 13), always reminds me of the most important things about the music I like: a simple immediacy yet with a deeper sense of beauty and connectedness.  I chose, as a result, to bring Handel’s simple little interlude into my work as a gesture of respect, and also as a point of departure, both psychologically, and musically.  You will hear the Pifa in its [almost] original form two thirds of the way through, in a bow of respect, and all of the other material is generated from this simple 11 bar tune.  As with much of my music lately, I seek to make more complex structures out of relatively uncomplicated things.  Here, I have simply tried to stretch the Handel Pifa far beyond its original intent, as if looking at each beautiful moment through a magnifying glass.

Character Sketches From the High Country (1995) stem from the Colorado Etudes for solo piano written in 1992. In the original piano version there were five etudes, one for each elevation life zone in the central Rockies. These have been recast into four Character Sketches for Chamber Orchestra. 
 

I. Distantly Rising Ramparts II. Ridges, Valleys, and Parks III. Islands Beneath the Sky IV. The Edge of Earth (and Sky)

Initially the piano etudes were a representation of emotional responses to the life zones (divided by elevation) in Colorado. In the Chamber Orchestra version these responses have been expanded to incorporate more general characterizations of these "life zones" in the Colorado landscape. Distantly Rising Ramparts refers to the mountains as seen from a distance in the rolling eastern plains. The Colorado interior, within the heart of the Rockies, contains thousands of Ridges, Valleys, and Parks, (open meadows ranging from a hundred square feet to many square miles) in an endless labyrinth lending relief and variety to the flatter plains in the east and mesas in the west. As one travels higher, thick conifer forests give way to thinning aspen groves and bristlecone pines until one reaches the Krummholz communities of plants and flag trees stretching even beyond tree line. The Krummholz (German for elfin timbre) form, with other plant life, small Islands Beneath the Sky. That these plants survive, battered by wind blown ice crystals in the winter and freezing temperatures even in the summer, is almost beyond comprehension. Above these, smaller plants continue to grow even to the Edge of the Earth, where the highest summits reach for the troposphere in peaceful setting of quiet. 

I was immediately struck by the phrase from Immanual Kant’s idee zu einer allgemeinen Geschichte in weltbürgerlicher Absicht (1784): "Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing can ever be made." My hope was (and is) that humanity pass from its adolescence marked with violence, trauma, and moody tantrums into a more stable adulthood of diplomacy, compassion, and kindness.  Sound mass becomes a metaphor for the unhewn timber out of which I try to mill something straight.  In the end, straightness becomes a matter of relativity balanced between the pessimism of Kant’s view and my hopeless romantic optimism. 

Duration 9'
 
 

Citlaltepetl (Nahuatl for The Star Mountain), also known as Pico de Orizaba, is an extinct volcano rising 18,700 ft. above the central Mexican plateau. To the Aztecs, the mountain was a source of awe for it's connection with the legend of Quetzalcoatl (Aztec god of learning and priesthood), who was consumed in the crater by divine fire, assumed human form, and sailed across the ocean to return one day in the future. The name is derived from these spiritual associations along with the physical appearance of the alpine glaciers on it's slopes which glisten in the early morning and late day sun. 

Citlaltepetl was composed after a trip to Mexico and an ascent of the mountain in 1992. The many emotional, physical, and psychological pressures which happen at high elevations provide the impetus behind many of the musical gestures in the work. The lack of oxygen combined with the physical exertion required to climb at that elevation often lead to distortions in perception. Everything around you (including yourself) appears to be in slow motion, as if time is suspended and the laws of nature do not exist. There is also a sensation of great heaviness, a direct result of the exertion, which is contradicted by the "lightness" of the thin air. These (and many other) sensations where at the forefront of my thinking while composing Citlaltepetl. as remembrances of the event, and translate musically into textures or fabrics of sound interspersed with moments of "reality." 
 
 

Portrait was commissioned for the Northeastern State University Wind Ensemble (Tahlequah Oklahoma), and was composed in Wellington, New Zealand while on a Fulbright Fellowship. Towards completion of the work, I began to search in earnest for an appropriate title to sum up not only the work itself, but the process of evolution that the material had gone through since conception. I realized that while composing, I had repeatedly referred to a mental image or snapshot of the Maroon Bells in central Colorado. This mental picture of Colorado's most photographed mountains became the reference point for many of my compositional ideas. The image includes Crater Lake at the base of the mountains which, on a calm day, perfectly mirrors the rocky summits, while only a slight breeze causes an impressionistic melting of lines, shapes, and colors. I soon discovered, that not only does the theme of Portrait outline the shape of the reflected mountains, but also, much of the manipulation of material occurs in a mirroring fashion. While I never intended to "compose my mental image," the image, none-the-less, became the model for many of the decisions required during the compositional process. 
 
 

Shapes of Wind is based on " I Will Sing of My Redeemer," a simple hymn which I remember singing in church as a child. The hymn, as raw material, takes on many shapes, changing direction and speed much like the wind in the natural environment. The treatment of material metaphorically represents physical and spiritual changes one experiences throughout life, and seeks to synthesize all of my past and present musical experiences. Shapes of Wind is in two large sections and begins with fragments of the tune as if remembered through the hazy distance of time. In the first half, these fragments are treated as individual building blocks for contrasting textural and rhythmic constructions which focus on the development of timbre. These textural and timbral abstractions of the tune coalesce into the hymn, set in the original harmonization at the middle of the work. The second half focuses on transforming the hymn from a naive simple musical object into a more informed contemporary musical fabric related to the abstract material of the first half. 

 

Improvisations 1-3

Shoulder to shoulder
Pushing, shoving, inching the pack
Brute force against brute force
Opposed wills, muscles
Equilibrium 
Spring tight
Balanced energy
Released!

Chain reaction 
Running
Organized 
Strategy?
Collision
Collusion
Finesse 
Brutality
Survival of the fittest!

As a kid, I used to make drum sets out of plastic ice cream containers, tin cans, or any other objects that would make an interesting sound.  Each percussionist in this work as a result has their very own set of five cans in amongst the more refined instruments from the orchestral tradition.  Some of the rhythms are reminiscent of my marching band days after I gave up homemade drum sets for a shiny trumpet.  I can still hear some of the cadences we used to march up and down the streets of my home town to for hours each day in the summer. There are many refined moments in this work, but there are also times when the child in me couldn’t resist the days when I would simply sit around and bang on cans!

Rhapsody for Two (1998) was written for Douglas Beilman and Joanna Hood to be performed at the 1999 New Zealand Festival of Chamber Music.  The work reflects the spontaneous energy of those it was written for, and is intended to portray a musical conversation which swings through various temperaments.

 

"Thema: Omaggio" began with a 1’ 45" vocal improvisation recorded in the studio.  This recording served as the basis for a composition in which I explored improvisational methods of working with sound material in the studio. Much of the final work resulted from recorded performance passes manipulating mixes of previously processed material.  The result was a completely satisfying balance of improvisational instincts with compositional craft in an attempt to preserve the human presence and energy often lost in fixed works. Like Berio’s work, variations stem from this theme but in a recursive rather than a linear manner.  Sections of the theme are interspersed throughout followed by variations which encompass the rest of the theme from that starting point.  As a result, Thema ends with the last portion of the theme heard after numerous variations.

Duration: 8’53"
 

wood, wind, water, earth (2001) combines the real qualities of the materials the instruments are made out of, with corresponding sounds in the recorded electroacoustic part comprised of a virtual percussion ensemble. The acoustic part of the work is a dalliance in the sounds of the title, with an attempt to focus on the ability of traditional Chinese instruments to either mimic or suggest moving forces of nature.  The virtual portion, while also envisioning some similar elements, is more suggestive of human intervention and interaction with the natural world.  Shapes emerge suggestive of nature, but are juxtaposed with less natural, metallic sound worlds.  These ideas stem from both the terrain (and all the wood, wind, water, and earth along the way), and the experience of hiking to the Conundrum Hot Springs near Aspen, Colorado. 

wood, wind, water, earth was commissioned for Music From China as part of the national series of works from Meet The Composer Commissioning Music/USA, which is made possible by generous support from the National Endowment for the Arts, The Helen F. Whitaker Fund, The Chatherine Filene Shouse Foundation, and the Target Foundation.
 
 

When I listen to music of cultures different from my own, I am drawn to similarities rather than disparities.  When I first heard the erhu, some of the sonic qualities and techniques reminded me of Texas swing fiddle (from Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys or Roy Benson and Asleep at the Wheel), the bluegrass fiddle (the Flying Dog Bluegrass Band or Alison Krause and Union Station), the Irish Fiddle (of Natalie MacMaster), and even the Western classical fiddle of Tchaikovsky and Brahms. Some of the sound worlds in Fantasie imitate "reality" while others suggest imagined bandstands with virtual players. This work, hence, is a fantasia of styles and sound worlds from a variety of sources, all brought together in the computer, with the erhu as the catalyst in a virtual fantasie of fiddling!

Duration: 13’
 
 

I have long loved the simplicity and clarity of the four-part hymns I used to sing in church as a child.  I view these hymns now as a foundation upon which highly complex structures can be build.  I have often been perplexed, however, by the range of emotions expressed in many of these hymns.  On the one hand, hymns like “Far Far Away From My Loving Father,” portray a heartfelt loving and forgiving image based on the prodigal child story.  On the other hand, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” contains violent war imagery and language.  The opposed polarity of these two types of hymns can be striking when they appear side by side in a worship service.  I have come to realize that both kindness and violence seem to be equal parts of our human nature.  Church Keys is the ground on which these halves of myself, kindness and confrontation, struggle to coexist.
 
 

The idea for a cactus and tape work came about when I heard a performance of John Cage’s Child of Tree.  I was immediately taken with the sound of the cactus in particular.  Taken from its natural environment and placed in the confined and groomed existence of a pot, amplified with a contact microphone, the cactus took on a completely new and interesting character, however paradoxical.   Without the amplification its subtle and poignant resonances go largely unnoticed.  The relationship between natural objects and their unnatural extension is the metaphor which inspired Grandchild of Tree.  I am deeply indebted to Nathan Davis for his amazing cactus technique and samples!
 
 

“...and every island and mountain were moved from their place...”(Revelation 6:21) was conceived and composed while contemplating the “turn of the millennium.”  Living in New Zealand at the time, I realized that those in the South Pacific would be the first to experience the sunrise on January 1st, 2000.  As a result, the image of that sunrise, and all of its accompanying expectations, became the focus of the work.  “....and every island and mountain were moved from their place....” (1998) was realized in EMS 1 at Victoria University, Wellington, New Zealand, while on a Fulbright Fellowship.

When specified, the trumpet should face into the open piano with the lid up, and the piano turned so as not to face directly into the audience.  Contact microphones should be used under the piano where possible and the sustain pedal on the piano should be fixed down throughout the work.  Amplification of the piano should pick up the trumpet as well, but not directly.  If standing microphones are used, they should be placed under the piano.  There should be additional amplification for the direct trumpet sound in softer muted passages as needed.  Where sound is diffused, the performer (mixer) should keep in mind the idea of facing the rising sun, and diffuse accordingly.  The piano, tape, and resonant trumpet should be mixed together, rather than separated (i.e., the amplified piano resonances should be mixed through the entire hall, not just the front stereo pair).
 
 

In Geographic Bells there are representations of many kinds of bell sounds expressed in many different sound shapes. Each one may or may not elicit different connotations or scenes, depending on ones experiences with bells. Lest this be just a rehashing of one of the oldest methods of sound synthesis, however, these bells also have geographic references. The significance lies in the names assigned to various geographic points around Aspen Colorado (where the work was composed) which elicit, either directly, the image of a bell (Maroon Bells, Bell Mountain, and Silver Bells Campground), or indirectly (Cathedral Lake and Cathedral Peak), settings in which bells are used even to this day. Castle Peak is reminiscent of medieval bells, while Independence Pass and Independence Mountain elicit the American Revolution and the famous Liberty Bell. The Hunter/Frying Pan Wilderness, Frying Pan Lakes, Frying Pan River, Homestake Creek and Homestake Lake all recall imagery of the pioneer homestead call to plates by a large steel triangle-included rather loosely here in the category of bells. Whether or not the explorers and founders (who named many of the sites) of the Aspen area heard bells literally, or imaginatively, causing the many geographic bell name designations has yet to be discovered (I'm sure there are anthropo-etymological astrologers working on it as we speak). Perhaps it is this resonance with the cosmic ether which spawned and through the years has continued to support one of the nations largest music festivals. 

Or perhaps not?
 
 

Parallax is an astronomical term used to refer to an apparent change of position or direction of an object when viewed from two or more points not on a line with the object. In Parallax 1 I was interested in presenting the object ("Violin") from a range of views which all converge from different planes on the live violinist. Some of the sound worlds are mechanical while others seem organically grown from a simple bouncing bow spun into large orchestral textures. The work was written for Australian violinist and conductor Joanna Drimatis without who's samples the work would not have been possible. The composer also gratefully acknowledges the dedication of Andrew Perea to the final version of the work.
 
 

Parallax is an astronomical term used to refer to an apparent change of position or direction of an object when viewed from two or more points not on a line with the object. In Parallax 2 "Apparitions," my goal was to incorporate the acoustic cello into the world of the tape. The work originated from 45 minutes of improvisations by cellist Craig Hultgren, which inspired aspects of the formal structure as well as specific technical ideas. Many of his extended techniques imbue the cello with an "electronic" sound, and as a result, my compositional ideas stem from his innovative use of abstract sound worlds created through the cello. Emphasis throughout the work is placed upon the unclear distinctions created between the tape and the live instrument. The first part of the work focuses on these ambiguities ("ghosts" of the cello) but in the end the cello finds its own voice within the sound world of the tape.
 
 

This work looks at the trumpet from the inside out and is put together from many sorts of remnants.  First, are the bits left over from a previous piece for trumpet and tape; sonic carpet scraps from a work which would not support any of the material found here. There are the sonic remnants from my days as a jazz trumpeter; nerve impulses, left in my bones, which I can still feel under the right circumstances.  And finally, there are the remnants of sound from the trumpet itself; molecules which continue to bounce in the tubes long after the lips have left the mouthpiece. 

Remnants is made entirely of trumpet samples provided by Jack Sutte, and was composed at Victoria University, Wellington, New Zealand, while on a Fulbright Fellowship. 
 
 

18700 was written in response to a trip to Mexico in 1992 to climb Pico de Orizaba, an extinct volcano rising 18,700 feet above sea level. Many of the sound masses of the work are direct extensions of emotional, psychological, and physical effects and events at high elevations. Truck size sections of the inner crater breaking away and falling to the bottom reverberating out over the rim; the pounding of the heart and the labor of breathing and stepping one foot in front of (and usually above) the other; throbbing veins; the light-headedness in paradox with the heaviness of exertion, are all snapshots in my memory of the ascent of the mountain. Motion, change and progress seemed to change slowly and evolve over a timeless landscape of white glacier and endless blue sky. These are the perceptions which I attempted to capture in 18700. The work exists as a multi-media work for photographs and music using multiple slide projectors, as well as for tape alone.

 

This piece was co-created by composer Paul Rudy and choreographer Shannon Bradford in order to explore the idea of expressing and perceiving multiple languages, or POLYGLOT. From conception, the music and the movement evolved interdependently from the notion of collage and the desire to express meaning in multiple layers. Paramount to the process has been improvisation to generate movement and freedom for individual performers to explore the resulting material. Performance of the work is the carefully crafted result of these explorations in the sound and movement world.
 
 

Trio for three was written at the Aspen Music Festival in 1994.   I was interested in exploring base human nature and self-preservation instincts, and the contradiction that to change the outside world, one must seek to change inwardly first.  Each of three voices (movement, sound, and light) interact in varying degrees of confrontation throughout the work, until in the end, they begin to combine their efforts to the benefit of each other.

Dance Suite from Water Into Light (1995) consists of four works extracted from the incidental music written for a play by Wesley Middleton (Austin, Texas).  The middle two pieces (Lydia and Lynn) embody the two main characters of the play, and are surrounded by the prologue and epilogue which consist of both of these themes combined with additional material from the music used in the play.
 

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Updated January 9, 2005
created by Paul Rudy, Dec. 2000