This year, I am teaching composition lessons as part of my assistantship for the first time. In trying to come up with valuable and helpful suggestions for my students, I have decided to reflect on my own experience as a student composer, trying to identify those things that have helped me (and still do) with my own creative process. The following is a list of what I consider to be the most important ones:

1. Listen to music: Sounds simple right? And perhaps obvious for a musician. But, with so many different options out there it’s sometimes hard to know where to start. That’s where your teacher comes in. Not only because (hopefully) he/she has a better knowledge of the repertoire, but also because, as a teacher, he/she should be able to guide you based on your specific needs as a student. Being able to look at the score while listening is always a plus. And being able to hear live performances is even better, so, I guess a related suggestion would be: Go to concerts!

2.       Ask the Masters: Fortunately for us, some of the most important composers have written books relating their own experiences. Listen to what they have said about the same types of challenges you are facing now.

3.       Look around you: Sometimes it’s easier to find the answer to your compositional problems by looking at other artistic expressions. I personally like to draw ideas for form from literature and movies, just to mention an example. But I think answers can come basically from anywhere, so, as long as you keep your goal in mind, keeping your eyes (and ears) open will make a difference.

4.       Forget all you have learned: Forget all the rules and theory you’ve learned at school and just be like a child playing with sounds. Use your imagination to go beyond limitations of any kind (notation, instrumental technique, timbre, etc).

5.       Be a listener (and a performer): Conductors videotape themselves so they’re able to see what performers see when they’re on the podium. Performers listen to audio recordings of their own performances and often realize things they can’t hear when they’re busy playing their instruments. So, how can we step back from our own work and be listeners? I don’t think I have the answer, but I think it’s possible. Hasn’t it happened to you that, once in your lesson with your teacher there, as you hear the playback of your own music you realize things that you didn’t hear before? It happens to me and I think it’s because when you have someone else listening to your music, for some strange reason, you become a listener, too. It works for me and, as a plus, you might get useful suggestions from that other listener. Also, since you’re trying to play different roles now, try to imagine yourself playing that instrument you’re writing for. In other words, be an actor.

I know that this isn’t brand new, revolutionary advice in composition. I just wanted to post these suggestions in a brief and simple way hoping they help my students (and any other composition students) the same way they have helped me to find solutions to those problems that are common to all composers. Please feel free to add any other suggestions from your own experience and let’s make this list bigger.

 

I found out last week that I will be presenting a piece in a masterclass with John Corigliano on Saturday morning at 10am. I’ve been a bit anxious about it since then. Anyway, yesterday, the same day Corigliano arrived in our fair city, John Adams posted a funny and thoughtful essay about composition masterclasses on his blog.

If you’re an instrumentalist or a singer, such a class is a pretty straightforward affair. You play your Chopin etude or sing your Puccini aria, and some honored guest artist, after politely listening, heaps gobs of fulsome praise on you and then over the next twenty minutes ritually disembowels you before an audience of your peers and your embarrassed teacher. And the whole thing is captured on video so you can enjoy it over and over.

With composers it’s a slightly different kettle of fish…

…The piece is over and now it’s time for The Master (i.e. the guest disembowler) to say something meaningful. This is not as easy as you might think. You want to be helpful and not just make bland, encouraging comments like Mom and Dad. On the other hand you remember your own student days and recall how super super super sensitive you were. An unkind cut can be devastating…

Be sure to read the whole thing and click through all of his hyperlinks. You’ll be glad you did.

 

Dr. Lorenz sent out an email tonight explaining the topic he’d like to discuss this semester in studio class. Contrary to recent history, we will be meeting this coming Friday. Jan. 15, the first week of the semester. If you missed the email, here it is for your intellectual and conceptual pleasure:

Anatomy of Our Profession

We will have the extraordinary opportunity of having John Corigliano in residence at MSU this semester.  In preparation for his residency, I want to have the composition studio look at the composer’s works and career trajectory while thinking about student’s own potential to lead lives as composers and teachers.  In public lectures, I have heard Corigliano share with audiences some of the most insightful and profound ideas about music composition.  Therefore, in addition to taking care of the composition area’s business, this semester’s Composition Studio will be devoted to studying the anatomy of our profession.

What do we call what composers do anyway? Is it a profession or a vocation? Is it a trade? Or is it a labor of love, an avocation, a passion, an existentialist quest, a way of life? Is it plain foolishness? Is it a little bit of all of the above?

I want us to look profoundly at what we do, where we do it, how we do it, and perhaps even why we do it.   How do our aspirations to lead lives as composers change throughout the different phases of the profession? I would like to go back to those turning points that we all go through while pursuing a path in the field of music composition: the first time we became aware of our calling; the time when we decided to study composition formally; our years as undergraduate and graduate students; the process of getting a teaching job; the challenges of reconciling this process with maintaining a steady creative output.  What are other alternatives to a teaching job? How do we overcome coming face to face with serious doubts about our chosen field? How has the field changed during the past several decades?

Of particular interest to me this semester is the practice, study, and teaching of music composition at a so-called research institution like MSU. What does it mean to be doing this at a research institution?  I want us to investigate the backgrounds and trajectories of composers who are currently teaching at colleges and universities and how they manage to balance between steady creative output and teaching.   Last but not least, how does entrepreneurship play a role during our student years as well as while being a faculty in composition?

Ricardo Lorenz

Let’s unpack that. Got opinions? Drop them in the comments box.

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