Biography
"I rediscovered the traditional purposes for making music a) to imitate nature in her manner of operation, and b) to sober and quiet the mind thus making it susceptible to divine influences. Thus I was freed from self-expression. Music became a discipline, a way of life. I have noticed very few people are interested in New Music. I was 50 years old before there was any supportive acceptance of my work. I am now much older but my work remains controversial as your feelings testify."
-- John Cage, 1982. Letter to Charles Berry, published as an introduction to David Cope's New Directions in Music, 4th Edition. University of California.
My correspondence with John Cage, confirmed my belief that he was more a philosopher and a writer, than a composer. He was a brilliant and gentle man.
His music was not intended to be meaningful, or moving, or listened to with any seriousness. Young composers who admire his music, risk deluding themselves, believing there is musical and/or spiritual value--where there is nothing at all. This was John Cage's whole point---we create our own perception of value. That philosophy does not often translate into beautiful or lasting music. I do believe Cage's, Sonatas and Interludes for prepared piano, and some of his percussion music express his goal, "to quiet and sober the mind."
In my twenties, I found myself at the University of California, studying music history, and music composition with a quiet British composer, named Peter Racine Fricker. I had heard an LP record of his First Symphony. When I met him for the first time, I said: "Thank you for writing that Symphony." (Until that moment, I never thought I would be able to say anything to anyone who had composed a Symphony.) For his part, Mr. Fricker smiled. No one had every thanked him like that. As if he had done me a personal favor. Mr. Fricker wanted to teach me the intricate details of serialist music, and teach me to discipline my wandering musical imagination. I was not a good student. I was full of enthusiasm with a very short attention span.
In 1982, in San Diego, I met Paul Creston. I studied composition with him for one year. Sitting in his living room, I tried to be calm, when he played tapes of his orchestral music--live recordings with Eugene Ormandy, George Szell, and Arturo Toscanni. (He knew the men who had been my childhood heroes.) Paul Creston did not talk much about his career, preferring to focus on immediate problems---teaching me about form and orchestration, and his own methods for harmonic and melodic construction. Much later, after his death, I discovered how lucky I was to learn from him. During the 1950's and early 1960's he was the most performed American Symphonic composer--as well-known to audiences as Copland, Barber, and Menotti. His career was eclipsed by a younger generation.
For a time, I hosted a Classical radio program on KBOO, community radio, in Portland, Oregon. I called-up famous composers, and interviewed them over the phone. I edited the interviews, added excerpts of their music, and broadcast the half-hour programs, which included George Crumb, John Cage, Benjamin Lees, Karel Husa, Ned Rorem, George Rochberg, and William Schuman. (Now, I was getting to know my heroes, talking with them.) William Schuman sang melodic excerpts from his Symphonies, over the phone. George Crumb's cuckoo clock chimed in the background. I heard traffic noise through the open window of John Cage's New York apartment window.
Later, in Santa Cruz, California, I got to know the Hungarian cellist and composer, George Barati. He was also a longtime conductor for the Honolulu Symphony. He told me how, in his younger days, he played in a Sunday afternoon string quartet, with Albert Einstein--during his years at Princeton University. He also knew Bartok and Kodaly, and sang in a choir conducted by Rachmaninov. He told me of visits with Stravinsky and Schönberg.
In the 1990's I presented performances of my music in San Francisco with George Barati, Lou Harrison, and an electronic composer, Charles Amirkanian. During this time, I also met Alan Hovhaness on several occasions. He told me how he lost the manuscript to an entire symphony when a mugger grabbed his briefcase. Hovhaness stuck a thumb out in his suitcoat pocket, saying he had a gun and was not afraid to use it. The thief ran off with the symphony in the briefcase. Though he searched for the music in nearby dumpsters, Hovhaness never found that symphony.
About the Music
The works on the new Centaur Records CD were composed in 2002 and 2003 in Seattle, Washington. They show a variety of style and structure, all with predominantly tonal harmonies. I have experimented with Form, more than with tonality. I am also interested in the interactions between Melody and Rhythm. I will often contrast irregular halting rhythms against a lyrical melodic line. Olympic Mountains Overture is tribute to the grandeur of these mountains, and can be considered a tone poem. Quileute Overture was inspired by a visit to La Push, Washington, home to the Quileute Indian tribe. This tribe lives between the mountains and the sea, a stormy place, which gave rise to myths of the Thunderbird. This piece uses no Native American music, though I attempted to create an exotic mood, using unusual orchestration, with ocarina.
Symphony No. 3 and the Cello Concerto are large scale works, with contrasting movements. My intention was to explore different ways, to create a coherent form for each of these movements. The overall mood of Symphony No.3 is calm and optimistic, which led me to subtitle the work, "Celestial".The first inspiration for my Cello Concerto was recordings of standard repertoire, performed by Lynn Harrell. After the piece began, I drew inspiration from the performance techniques of Walter Gray. I have dedicated the work to Walter Gray, in gratitude for his artistry and friendship. He was the first cellist play the solo score of the Concerto, and the solo cello part for Quileute Overture.
My intention with each of these works was to compose music which is both accessible and modern, music which can be enjoyed by the concert-goers who enjoy standard romantic and classical repertoire. I have deliberately avoided many well-established, contemporary composition techniques, because I feel those techniques alienate many listeners. I believe a composer can be adventurous and original, without inventing new musical languages, arcane languages, which are unintelligible to most listeners. My intention is to offer some familiar reference points, and then reach beyond those references to new forms of expression. Coherence in any piece is achieved by some kind of repetition. By choosing which fragments are repeated, how often, and in what disguise---I am able to create Forms which have infinite variety, and rely little on any historical forms. I use intellectual planning, only to get started with a piece---later I find preconceived plans, whether Classical, Romantic, or Serialist, get in the way of the music.
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