About the Composer

It had been years since I’ve looked at it, but I’ve had the vocal score of Sweeney Todd out for the past couple of weeks, having just seen the revival currently on at American Conservatory Theatre (extended for still one more week).

Years ago I used to spend hours with this score, so it’s kind of like an old friend. Right now I don’t really have time to play with it, so it’s just sitting there staring at me all day. Funny thing though: since I’ve had it out, I’ve completed two Eros at Breakfast songs, and I’m now closing in on a third. Normally I’m a hopeless slowpoke. I think on some level I know the score is watching me, and I don’t want to let it down.

Let’s call it “The Sweeney Effect”

As mentioned in my last post, the opening song from Eros at Breakfast was performed a couple of weeks ago, launching what I hope will be a series of similar informal performances as the pieces start coming together.

It has occurred to me that it’s relatively easy to also document this work-in-progress on video, and so we got back together over the weekend to shoot this scene for that purpose. The result is a very tight, energetic and musically accurate performance. On the other hand, this particular scene calls for a lot going on onstage, and all we have is our main character (the only one who actually sings here), so you need to use your imagination to some degree.

Thanks again to Loren Nordlund, praised in my last post, and to wonder-pianist Jennifer Peringer, who, it turns out, has five hands.

Without further ado, please have a look at “Routine”. Video and a very brief synopsis are on a dedicated page.

Last year I wrote a little something about the relationship between dramatic composing and acting. I just had a great experience working with an actor, so now there’s more to say. I’m reminded that, in writing a musical theater piece, you’re never going to be “finished” until you involve actors in the process.

Every so often, a non-musical friend will hear something in a piece of mine, and say, “Oh, I like that. Was that your idea?”. Of course it was my idea! Every tiny detail is a decision. The same is true of acting, although I’m sure even fewer people realize it. Most people probably don’t really appreciate the craft of acting. You may enjoy a performance and be moved by it, but do you ever think about how they do it? It’s really hard work, and good actors make it look easy.

On Sunday we gave an informal performance of the opening song from Eros at Breakfast. I had expected it to be just a rough read-through, but it turned out to be a thoroughly thought-out performance — off book — by San Francisco actor Loren Nordlund.

Loren came to our first meeting having studied the score and analyzed the lyrics, and said, “OK. Here’s how I’d like to do it.” He immediately picked up on the sort of bizarre, Dr. Seuss-like aesthetic we’re going for, and brought a slew of interesting elements to the character, including some costume ideas that suited this particular event.

Watching Loren put this together, what struck me most was realizing how many tiny decisions he had made, particularly what he’s doing with his hands. I noticed that, more often than not, his hand gestures were consistent and specific. Whether we knew it or not, his hands were helping to tell the story. Next time you go to a movie, watch your favorite actor’s hands, and see what you think. Tiny decisions.

But most edifying was the reminder that no matter how polished my song seems on paper, it can’t really be finished until after an actor gets his hands on it. Let your actor make choices, and be flexible about your tempos and dynamics. You’ll find that they often can know more about your material than you do. Then, go back and revise.

P.S. - This particular song, “Routine”, was actually finished last summer, so I’ve had many months to grow fond of my MIDI rendering from Sibelius. It was a thrill to finally see it on its feet. I’m eager to share it. As soon as our schedules allow, we’re going to make a video which I may post here.

In the last two posts, I alluded to the musical I’m currently working on and expect to finish within a few months. The musical adaptation of Robertson Davies’ one-act play Eros At Breakfast began almost by accident about two years ago when playwright/performer Janet Roitz mentioned the play in the course of a conversation we were having.

It turns out Janet had long been an avid fan of Davies’ work in general, and had wished for a long time to stage this play. As she described to me what it’s about, my wheels started turning almost immediately, and we both came up with the idea of adapting it.

Eros At Breakfast is a fantasy set in the solar plexus of a young man. The play envisions the various components of the human body as departments of some big bureaucracy such as the military or a big corporation. As changes seem to be on the way in this man’s otherwise unremarkable life, the various departments are affected in different ways and amusing conflicts come about.

In the preface of Four Favourite Plays, Robertson Davies describes how he got the idea for Eros At Breakfast. He remembers that at his school they used to put on what were known as “health dialogues”, which were meant to teach lessons about hygiene and good health habits.

I was impressed as a child by a health dialogue the scene of which was laid in a human stomach. Various characters appeared there, of which some were quarrelsome and harmful like Piece of Pie and Slice of Cake, and others were of a noble and uplifting nature like Fresh Vegetables and Whole-wheat Bread. The hero and heroine were handsome young Mr. Apple and Miss Glass of Milk … How delightful, I thought, to have a play going on inside somebody.

In Davies’ resulting play, the characters are Chremes and Aristophontes, the heads of the Solar Plexus and Intelligence departments, respectively, along with Parmeno, an envoy from the heart and Hepatica from the Liver. It’s a very funny play, and has just the right level of simplicity so as to lend itself to musical adaptation. Janet has written an absolutely hilarious draft adaptation. I’ll be happy if my lyrics are half as funny as Janet’s dialogue. There isn’t enough music yet for me to say much about it here, but I will discuss that soon.

I get into such trouble with this stuff: I’m a classical composer who wants to write musicals; I’m a theater composer with Uptown training whose music is weird, unpredictable and unnecessarily difficult.

In classical circles, it’s OK, actually. As far as I know, I haven’t been judged negatively because there are musicals in my bio, but in my head at least, there’s the danger of that. (You’re judging me right now, aren’t you!)

But dealing with theater people has been a tricky dance. Actors tend to like my stuff, but they look at it kind of sidewise and treat it as an oddity. They don’t complain about how difficult it is, but they do make a topic of it. In one case I was turned down by a playwright because my music wasn’t “tuneful” enough. He knew what he wanted and had a valid point, although I was baffled at the time. I think my music is very lyrical and reasonably easy. But what do I know? I can take 4-part dictation, so my idea of easy has nothing to do with it. I’m still learning on that front.

Here’s the problem: Most people equate “musical theater” with “Broadway”. I do not. Broadway has turned into something that I’m not particularly interested in being a part of. There’s still a place for Sondheim there, because he’s Sondheim. Put someone else’s name on Passion or Sunday in the Park With George, and they’ll show you the door pretty quickly.

So where do I fit in? No really, I’m asking.

Given the nomenclature available to us now, I have two choices: it’s a “musical” or an “opera”. Eros At Breakfast doesn’t quite fit the average person’s idea of either of these. It’s clearly not an opera, because, for one thing, it’s not all sung. It’s written with actors in mind, not singers. Singing actors, yes, but actors. That’s why I call it a musical.

But the music is conceived much in the way of an opera. It’s not lead-sheet tunes to be scored for reeds, bass and drums. The accompaniment helps tell the story; the composition is often driven by counterpoint, and not by chord progressions. Some songs don’t end, because the character is interrupted, so there’s a contiguous feel similar to most contemporary operas.

So, no, this isn’t intended for Broadway, although of course I would be delighted. Maybe someday Broadway will go back to being about theater more than it’s about money. For now, I can think of numerous regional and local theater companies around the country that have done very well with this sort of thing.

(But they’ll still think it’s weird.)

While I wait for some information from an expert on a “real” post in the works. I’ll share some highlights from the period during my little break from blogging.

• 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.