"There are no two points so distant from one another that they cannot be connected by a single straight line -- and an infinite number of curves."
Composer Lawrence Dillon has produced an extensive body of work, from brief solo pieces to a full-length opera. Partially deaf from birth, Dillon grew up in a bustling household with seven older siblings. He began composing as soon as he started piano lessons at the age of seven. In 1985, he became the youngest composer to earn a doctorate at The Juilliard School, and was shortly thereafter appointed to the Juilliard faculty. Dillon is now Composer in Residence at the North Carolina School of the Arts, where he has served as Music Director of the Contemporary Ensemble, Assistant Dean of Performance and Dean of the School of Music.
Dillon's music, in the words of American Record Guide, is "lovely...austere...vivid and impressive." His works are recorded by Albany Records, Channel Crossings and CRS, and published by American Composers Editions. He is represented by Jeffrey James Arts Consulting.
A and B meet, fall in love, splice bank accounts and live happily ever after.
Shortly into the happily ever after, A notices subtle shifts in the relationship. B begins to gently criticize her clothing, the way she walks, the books she reads. As time goes on, B becomes more outspoken: why does she click her teeth like that? Why does she talk so loudly? Why doesn’t she get rid of her foolish friends?
And then one day it dawns on her: B never loved her.
B just fell in love with the way love made him feel.
That’s the image I have when I hear composers say they want to change the definition of music, to create a completely original kind of music. Seems to me they have fallen in love with what they believe is their power over the art form, rather than the art form itself.
I’d rather invest in the relationship, grow with it over time, and watch it grow with me.
A little bickering here and there is fine, but there is something to be said for high fidelity.
