About the Composer

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.

And now, another song from The Ghost of Wu. “The Ways of the Young” is a bit more of a comedy number, although I’m afraid it might only be funny on paper.

By early in Act II of The Ghost of Wu, Wu Chao has succeeded in becoming Empress, having removed the Emperor’s first wife from the picture. But she is not satisfied. She’s been trying to convince her husband to decree that upon his death, Wu will assume the powers of the Emperor herself, instead of their son.

Kaozong insists on checking with his Confucian advisors, whom Wu views as stuffy and out of touch. In “The Ways of the Young”, we see the Confucians from Wu’s point of view: as foolish old men with nothing useful to say, and certainly no solutions.

Between verses of the song the Confucians toss coins and consult the I Ching for guidance in this matter. The answer, it turns out, isn’t particularly helpful.”

A word about the lyrics. This song, written in 2001 or so, marks the beginning of my journey from fixing other people’s lyrics out of sheer necessity (usually for musical reasons) to actually calling myself a lyricist and taking it on myself, which is a fairly recent development. In this case, a lot of the best material is from the original given to me by my playwright collaborator Donna Kaulkin, but that version lacked formal cohesion that I needed, so I fleshed it out a bit. Mainly, I claim the final verse, which I wrote because I felt the song needed a coda. It’s pretty flawed, but I like the way it ties everything up. I’ve gotten better since then.

The lyrics and MP3 can be found on the song’s own page. Check it out here.

Since I’ve been crowing about writing a musical, and have nothing to show for it yet, I thought it would be fun to blow the dust off of some songs from my last musical The Ghost of Wu.

The first song I’m presenting is maybe the most, uh, presentable, in that it’s just a song. Many of the others are elaborate ensemble numbers or involve bits of dialogue between verses, and that makes them a bit more work to listen to. I’ll get to them too, but it seems like a good idea to start with the simple stuff.

So, please have a listen to The World Rolls On. Audio and lyrics after the jump.

As promised, I’ve put up some excerpts of last week’s performance of Letter To Hungary. You’ll find them on this page.

Enjoy.

I’ve just come across an old recording from my undergraduate Senior Recital, which took place in 1989. Having also just recently spent a lot of time dealing with art songs (other people’s), I was particularly interested in listening to my setting for baritone of a passage from Romeo and Juliet.

Turns out to be a pleasant surprise. It’s certainly not flawless, but I’m as pleased with it as I was back in the day. Really, not bad for a 20-year-old with an attention span problem.

This is taken from Act 3, Scene 3, where Romeo learns that he is to be banished from Verona:

There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.

                                        — heaven is here,
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her;
But Romeo may not. More validity,
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand
And steal immortal blessing from her lips.
But Romeo may not; he is banished:
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:
They are free men, but I am banished.

There is a companion piece for soprano taken from Juliet’s famous “Come, night” speech. The two were performed together as Two Songs from Romeo and Juliet. I’m still proud of the Juliet song, but from a dramatic point of view it’s completely wrong, so I’m not as eager to crow about it here.