My music has changed a LOT over the last 2 years. It has moved in directions I never thought it would (slower, calmer, more static and spacious, more open). I’ve been untangling the mess of “how did I get here” and I see events in my past which were threads that form the rope of where I am today. It has been interesting seeing these threads emerge and, more importantly, how the life force of those ideas was snuffed by my composition teachers.
Case #1: In 1995 I wrote a trio of flute and clarinet duets. They rank as my second “keeper” piece. The first of the three has always been my least favorite. I remember the first draft I brought into my lesson: long tone in the flute with the clarinet motive happening in Very Slow Notes. Simple, slow, expansive, the kind of stuff I’m doing now. It was shot down by my undergrad teacher for practical reasons (can the flute hold a note that long? the lesson from Bartok of ‘fast notes making the music slow’). I dutifully went away and changed it, added the arpeggio in the flute, and sealed the fate of the piece. It was never going to be what I wanted it to be anymore. The last of the three is, in my never humble opinion*, is some of my best work. That one I barfed out in literally 90 minutes. Wouldn’t change a speck of it if you put a gun to my head.
Case #2: My masters comp thesis was a work for tenor and orchestra. No link to it, I’ve essentially disowned the piece. It was an okay piece, rich with the kinds of problems that masters theses have, and it needs never see the light of day. I remember the first breakthrough I had in writing the opening of the work. The harmonic map took me a while to make but I really liked the structure. I then wrote out a fairly plain eight-note pulsation/sigh throughout the opening chords to the first big arrival point. It was shot down by my advisor as being “too plain, simple, and boring. Surely you can do something more interesting with this material.” Once again, being the dutiful student, I changed my music because my teacher Knew More Than I Did. At the end of the day, though, I ended up taking music I loved and turned it into music I didn’t care about.
Had I stuck to my guns in either case then, what would I be writing now? Would it be the same stuff, only better? Would it be totally different?
I do not mean either of these stories as slams against any of my composition teachers. I’ve had the fortune of studying with a lot of talented people and I learned much from all of them. Without their insights and examples I would not be where I am right now nor would I be writing the music I am currently writing. My point is this: some days I am intimidated by teaching.
My students all write music that I would not write. That is good, they should be writing THEIR music, not mine. I want to make sure, though, that my students hang on to what is really important to them and not simply change things because I say so. To that end, I often shotgun a blast of possibilities that contradict one another. If any of my students are susceptible to following a single path, I try to make sure that there is no one path to follow. Hell, if it isn’t easy for me why should it be easy for them?
But then balancing permissiveness with authority is a problem. Like it or not, most of the time I know what I’m talking about. If my students are going after a certain target and are missing that target, I will let them know. That is usually when they don’t listen to me. So I’m caught in the ultimate Catch-22 of teaching. How do I make it clear when students are and aren’t supposed to listen to what I’m saying?
*phrase stolen from Jeremy Sagala. I pay him a quarter each time I use it.
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