"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. Three disks of his music are due out in 2010 on the Bridge, Albany and Naxos labels. In the past year, he has had commissions from the Emerson String Quartet, the Cassatt String Quartet, the Mansfield Symphony, the Boise Philharmonic, the Salt Lake City Symphony, the Ravinia Festival, the Daedalus String Quartet, the Kenan Institute for the Arts, the University of Utah and the Idyllwild Symphony Orchestra.

Although he lost 50% of his hearing in a childhood illness, Dillon 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 University of North Carolina School of the Arts, where he has served as Music Director of the Contemporary Ensemble, Assistant Dean of Performance, and Interim Dean of the School of Music. He was the Featured American Composer in the February 2006 issue of Chamber Music magazine.

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Saturday, August 06, 2005
Life Cycle

Strikes me that itís been awhile since Iíve said anything about my composing, which is what this blog is purportedly about, soÖ

I spent most of June revising. Since then, Iíve been focused on three pieces. Iíve just about finished a trio for flute, horn and piano Ė itís sitting on my desk waiting for me to make some last-minute adjustments before giving it to the musicians who will premiere it in October.

In the last few days, Iíve started working on a clarinet and piano piece in which Iím experimenting with some harmonies and phrase structures Iíve avoided in the past.

Meanwhile, a good chunk of my time this summer has gone into the second and fourth movements of my fourth string quartet (I'll get to the third movement once I have the second and fourth worked out). I began this piece back in 2002; itís one of a set of six quartets Iíve been working on since 1998, each of which zooms in on a specific aspect of Classical form with a complexity of viewpoints that would have been impossible 200 years ago.

The first quartet Ė Jests and Tenderness Ė focused on the Classical scherzo, digging beneath the surface of humor and unearthing a core of rage and despair.

The second quartet Ė Flight Ė concerned itself with the sensation and mechanics of flying, by turns rapturous, comical, innocent and menacing, in an array of six fugues that vary in faithfulness to the Classical model. (For example, the subject of the first fugue is a texture, rather than a line.)

In Air, the third quartet, I used 18th-century aria form to study the way we breathe and the way we respond to and affect the air around us. (This piece may be premiered in November in Sofia, Bulgaria, although that performance is not set yet. It will definitely get its American premiere here at the NC School of the Arts next January.)

Now this fourth quartet. The title is Rounds: itís based on the Classical rondo, but with explorations of everything that roundness can imply Ė canonical rounds, circles within circles, cyclic themes, smoothed timbres, etc. In keeping with the rondo concept, it is also the most light-hearted of the six quartets, with dance club music exerting a substantial presence in the second movement.

Why would I put so many years into a project like this? Partly in order to challenge myself, to make a creative investment that goes beyond simply capturing the sounds that careen around my head. Thereís a great joy in just letting music flow (which Iím doing in the clarinet/piano duo), but thereís also a deep satisfaction in spending years working through the ramifications of a single idea. Hopefully, when Iíve come out the other end, I will arrive at a deeper comprehension of design, tradition Ė and life itself.

But the reason Iím investing all of this time and effort into finding contemporary relevance in old ideas is because I feel like the world I live in has enough people going for novelty. Nothing wrong with new things Ė Iím rather fond of them myself. But a balanced boat has both bow and stern. I see so many people chasing after the latest headlines with little awareness or memory of where weíve been. Many others engage the past simply for its sentimental value, rather than for greater awareness and perspective on the present.

I assume that a great piece of music is going to keep my interest as a listener. With this cycle of quartets, Iím looking to keep my interest as a thinker. I am trying to make an honest, open-eyed assessment of who we are, part of which involves having a deeper understanding of who weíve been. I canít guarantee what I will end up with, but I have my sneaking suspicions.

Some people wonít hear the music for the concepts, believing without listening that there can be no value to writing sonatas and fugues in the 21st century. But there will be others who will give me credit for doing what I have to do, regardless of fashion. Either way, Iím very curious to have the whole set completed Ė at this pace, probably another five years or so. When finished, hopefully there will be a double benefit: six terrific pieces, and a better composer.

Of course, I canít help being reminded of the old joke about the composition student who complained, ďIíve been working on this passage for months, and I just canít get it to sound spontaneous