Posts By: willcwhite

The Next Picture Show

I’ve snuck away to Los Angeles for something like 56 hours in order to hang out on the set of my friend Will Slocombe‘s new movie, Pasadena. Will is one of the most talented and hard-working artists that I know; there’s a lot of so-called “filmmakers” out here in L.A., but Will keeps plugging away, pounding the pavement, and getting movies made.  I would recommend that everyone watch the entirety of his web series RECEPTION if you want to get some insight into his brilliance in combining funny + sad (or if you just want an entertaining way to spend 20 minutes).

Will at work

Pasadena stars no less a titan than Peter Bogdanavich, and let me tell you, this is a command performance.  This will be the second of Will’s pictures that I’ve scored, and I already know it’s going to be much harder, because it walks a very fine dramedic tightrope.  The emotional content of each and every scene has to be perfectly calibrated.  I’m thinking flutes.

While we’re on the subject of me being in L.A., we also need to talk about my friend Caitlin, not just because she’s another fascinating, successful person, but because her apartment, in which she has so generously allowed me to stay while she’s gone, is one of the most fastidiously curated living spaces I’ve ever encountered.

Caitlin’s life is centered around Death.  She works as a funeral director, but in her free time she’s an internet celebrity and bloggeuse.  I think the overarching thesis of Caitlin’s life and work is that since we’re all going to die, it’s probably better that we understand death and develop a healthy attitude towards it rather than relying on the collection of irrational fears our society has foisted upon us.  People spend a lot of money to keep the very idea of death at bay, and the funeral industry reaps the benefits from our psychoses.

But anyway, back to Caitlin’s apartment, it’s pretty incredible what she’s done with the place.  Every available inch is filled with the photos, mementos, or very remains of someone who is no longer with us (there are at least two human skulls, one alligator skull and a large trophy bust of a deer scattered throughout her apartment.)

Some of Caitlin's actual stuff

There are also several things that seem like they could kill me, including a variety of talismans and religious icons, a snake, and this cat, who I think is a cross between a Siamese and a vampire bat (and who, let the record show, just farted and promptly left the room.)

It should come as no surprise that last night I had a riveting, all-night long dream about the zombie apocalypse.

Tonight I’ll get to catch an echt-Rattelian program at the LA Phil consisting of Ligeti’s Atmosphères, the Act I prelude from Lohengrin, Mahler’s Rückert-Lieder and Bruckner 9.  Then back to Cincinnati first thing tomorrow where it will all of a sudden be crazytown due to this wild extravaganza called the May Festival, after which I may be embracing death more than ever!

The Dwarf Planets

for brass quintet, timpani, and organ

I wrote this piece over the course of April and May, 2012.  How it ever dawned on me to compose a set of tone poems in the mould of Holst’s The Planets featuring the deities assigned to the most distant celestial bodies I do not now remember.  What I do remember thinking is “really?” and that the idea grew on me as I mulled it over.

The currently recognized Dwarf Planets are: Haumea, Pluto, Ceres, Eris, and Makemake.  There are something like 50 other candidates, which may necessitate a second suite at some point in the future.

Three of these planets are named for European gods and goddesses: Pluto, Ceres, and Eris, but the ones that really got my juices flowing were the Polynesians: Haumea, the Hawaiian goddess of fertility and childbirth, and Makemake, the Rapa Nui (Easter Island) god of the bird-man cult (about which, see more below.)

This piece was composed for the Gargoyle Brass Quintet and was commissioned by the group’s founder, tubist Rodney Holmes. It was toured as part of the quintet’s 2014 season and recorded for the MSR Classics label.

1. Haumea

Haumea is the Hawaiian goddess of fertility and childbirth.  Nearly all the Hawaiian gods and goddesses count her as their mother; she is a profoundly incestuous figure, bearing the offspring of her own sons and grandsons.  The music is primordial and noble, and the main melody (a sort of chant) continues with variation throughout the piece.

2. Pluto

Both the most famous dwarf planet and the most famous god on the list, Pluto is the Roman ruler of the underworld.  The scene depicted in this movement is the abduction of Persephone, Pluto’s young bride.  Often depicted as a violent abduction, here the music never rises above piano, portraying the scene as a mysterious disappearance.  The opening melody depicts Persephone herself.

3. Ceres

Like many ancient gods and goddesses, Ceres represents several ideas.  The two most important are: agriculture and motherly relationships.  Hence, the movement opens with a joyous harvest dance, the melody of which is then slowed down and turned into a lullaby in the central section.  This is followed by a reprise of the festival dance and a coda.

4. Eris

Eris is the Greek goddess of strife and discord.  This movement, a solo for the organ, presents a series of consonant chords that are disturbed by the addition of foreign notes.  The dissonances grow greater and greater.  An ostinato is played throughout by the middle C on the pedal board.

5. Makemake

Makemake comes from the Rapa Nui people of Easter Island, and is both the creator of humanity and the chief god of the bird-man cult.  Each year, the youths of Easter Island were pitted against one another in a dangerous race, swimming out to sea to try to capture the eggs of the Sooty Tern, a bird that nested on rocks several kilometers out at sea.  Many of the participants were devoured by sharks, but the winner earned god-like status for the rest of the year.  This movement depicts the call to the race, the race itself, and the victory.

[Now.  Something must be said about the poster image below.  The graphic designer (whom I know not) was inspired by my concept to create this insane, Game-of-Thrones-fan-art phantasmagoria, and when I saw it at the premiere I demanded a copy; the poster is now proudly displayed on my studio wall.  To whomever served as the model for Eris, the goddess of chaos, strife, and discord: I salute you, good lady.]

dps

Can somebody please explain Music Publishing to me?

or How Much Longer Can We Go On Like This?


The publisher asks $500.00 as the replacement fee for the above score.  Because it’s Out of Print.  And I’m just like, bitch, I can xerox you that shit for seventy-five cent!  Unless that scotch tape was affixed by George Gershwin himself, five hundred dollars seems a rather high asking price.

Out of Print makes precisely zero sense to me.  I just don’t understand it.  Is someone at your organization not capable of typing those notes into a computer?  For $500, I’ll do it in less than a day and replicate every single aspect of your score (minus the Gershwin tape).

In these days of copy machines, pdfs, and Finale, I can’t see any way that the publishing industry will continue on the same model much longer.  Change comes stultifyingly slow in the classical music world, but sooner or later someone’s going to get wise and streamline a TON, and this whole rental business is going to look very different.

Or am I wrong?  Are perpetual copyright laws and publishing monopolies bound to keep things in the same state of disrepair?

I’m sensing the opportunity for a plug.  People, just buy my music.  It’s really good, I promise, and not expensive.  We can make the transaction super clean and scotch tape-free.  Unless you’re looking to increase the resale value, in which case I will gladly affix tape, scotch or otherwise, thereupon.

My Week with Philip

It’s not so often that Cincinnati, OH feels like the center of the musical world, and it’s even rarer that I get to work with several of my musical idols on a single project.  But every once in a while, the stars align, and this past week was one of those rare occasions.

March 30 & 31 saw the world premiere of Philip Glass’s new cello concerto (no. 2) by our CSO.  I’ve never thought of myself as a big Philip Glass fan, but in preparing for the concert this past week I had occasion to go back through my CD collection, and there’s no denying that I’ve had my Glassy phases.  When I was a freshman in college, I used to listen to the last movement of his second symphony over and over again on repeat (and yes, I realize that many of my readers will find that concept delightfully ironic.)  The coda is SO MUCH FUN and it features my favorite repeat in all of Glass’s work, because just when you think the movement is about to finish, he goes back in for another round (1:03):

I’ve also harbored attachments to the first violin concerto and “Glassworks” among others, which, when I added it all up, made me realize that I really am a Philip Glass fan.  Which I think is one of those things that serious musicians aren’t supposed to say, but all the more reason for saying it.

And all the more reason why this week gave me such a buzz.  The experience was only amplified by the fact that Philip is a gregarious and charming human being.  A big part of my job this week was to interview him publicly, and let me tell you, that guy’s a talker.  If Charlie ever had him on the broadcast, he wouldn’t be able to get in a word edgewise (which, perhaps, is why Mr. Glass has never appeared.)

I’ll admit that I was a little put off when I first received the score to the concerto about a month ago, and I found out that the music for his new piece was not actually new — it turns out that the concerto is a condensation of his score for Naqoyqatsi, the third installation of Glass and Godfrey Reggio’s Qatsi Trilogy.  But the thing is, everyone involved treated it like it was a brand new piece of music, and because of that, it became a new piece of music.

Much of that had to do with the collaborators involved, Matt Haimovitz and Dennis Russell Davies.  Now, when I said at the top of this post that I got to work with ‘several of my musical idols,’ DRD was definitely included in that mix.  My obsession with him also dates back to my first year of college, when my eyes were opened to the greater world of new music, and I eagerly began buying up recordings of Schnittke, Pärt, and Glass among others.  So many of the albums featured Dennis Russell Davies as conductor that his became a household name in the house of my brain.

First off, I’m happy to report that he’s another class act, all the way.  Secondly, he fucking recorded Alfred Schnittke’s 9th Symphony, which, on a spiritual level, places him ad dexteram Patris as far as I’m concerned.  And this is in addition to the most baddass recording of the Viola Concerto and one of the single greatest albums of all time, Marianne Faithfull’s rendition of The Seven Deadly Sins.  Not to mention the complete Haydn Symphonies, which, correct me if I’m wrong, is only the third such survey ever recorded??

Ahh, just thinking about these people gets me all in a tizzy, but I want to emphasize that the best part is that they were all really dedicated to this project (especially Matt Haimovitz who became one of my musical idols after working with him), they all contributed ideas that made it work, and, what made it so fulfilling on a personal level, they actually listened to and incorporated my ideas — little old me, the assistant conductor.  That’s a rarity for artists who don’t even approach these guys’ stature, and it was an honor to contribute what little I did.

But wait, there’s more!

Because when I said that earlier that Cincinnati felt like the center of the music world this past week, it wasn’t just because I got to hang out with famous people.  The seventh annual MusicNOW Festival took place, organized by Cincinnati native Bryce Dessner.  He collected, among others, the following musical entities: eighth blackbird, Nico Muhly, James McVinnie, Sam Amidon, and no less a deity than Sufjan Stevens.

Sufjan was premiering a new song cycle co-composed with Nico Muhly and Bryce Dessner himself.  The one bummer of my week is that I couldn’t get over to hear this collaboration (since I had to be next door attending to the recording of the Glass concerto).

Thank god for YouTube bootlegs!

Mysteries of “Mysteries of Lisbon”

“Mysteries of Lisbon” is a 2010 film of epic proportions, a 4 1/2 hour Portuguese-French period drama that was included on several Best Of lists last year. It’s a visual stunner — every shot looks like a 19th century oil painting, not to mention the fascinating camera work, long takes, and bold editing. But for me the big mystery watching this film was “what is this music??” Two names are listed under the music credit on the movie’s web site: Jorge Arriagada and Luís de Freitas Branco.

Sr. Arriagada is a Chilean countryman of the film’s director, Raúl Ruiz, and has been one of his most frequent collaborators. His name is listed as the sole musical credit (“Original Music by”) on MoL‘s imdb page and in the film’s credit reel, which would make you think, OK, this guy must have written the music for the film… so who’s the other name?

Well, it turns out that this is the real mystery of Mysteries of Lisbon. Here’s some copy from the film’s web site:

To allow the Lisbon of the 19th century to ring true, Ruiz turned to the music of the great Portuguese composer Luí­s de Freitas Branco, a name that is synonymous with the Portuguese culture of the 20th century. His work continues to be a reference, with special mention for Paraísos Artificiais and Vathek, considered the jewels of modernism he himself created. He composed four symphonies of a classic quality that truly denote his appreciation for the polyphonic past of Portugal.

He died in 1955.

I found this text rather intriguing. (Let’s ignore for a second the fact that this was obviously and poorly translated from god-knows-what Romance language and that the phrase “polyphonic past of Portugal” is probably the title of some lame musicologist’s blog.) I may know nothing of the Portuguese culture of the 20th century, but I do know a few things about modern music, and I had never come across the name Freitas Branco, much less the music he wrote.

So began the investigating. It turns out that Sr. Freitas Branco’s entire orchestral output has been released on Naxos (who else?) as recorded by Alvaro Cassuto and the Ireland RTE National Symphony Orchestra. And what an output it is.

Having now listened through Freitas Branco’s four symphonies, two orchestral suites, and several tone poems, I can say this: almost all of the music (and all of the distinguished music) used in Mysteries of Lisbon is his. I can also say that Sr. Freitas Branco’s music has nothing to do with the Lisbon – or anywhere else for that matter – of the 19th century, but it has a surprising amount to do with film music of the 20th and 21st centuries.

This composer has flabbergasted me. Some of his music is very derivative indeed; his youthful “Suite alentajana” sounds like a pastiche reenactment of Rimsky-Korsakov’s greatest hits. There’s hints of Chausson and Vaughan Williams and even Bruckner. But this composer also created strikingly original music, most of it very dark in mood, with strident harmonies and brooding orchestration.

Have I piqued your interest yet? Here are some of the themes that feature prominently in Mysteries of Lisbon:

Symphony No. 1 (1924), mvmt. 1:

Symphony No. 1, mvmt 2:

Where did this stuff come from?? It’s so moody and enigmatic, weirdly proto-Herrmann, and — what? — post-Rachmaninoff? It seems custom engineered for film:

Symphony No. 2 (1926-27), mvmt. 2:

This next piece sounds like Stephen Sondheim and Philip Glass teamed up to write a Bruckner symphony:

Symphony No. 3 (1930 – 44), mvmt. 1

But here’s the real kicker, a section from a symphonic poem titled Vathek.  This canon for 59 voices was written in 1913, but it sounds much closer to Ligeti or Schnittke than it does to Stravinsky’s boldest pages (it pre-Bartóks Bartók, while we’re at it):

This stuff is amazing, right? And totally neglected and unknown and we should be playing it at least SOME of the time, right?? I’m so glad it made its way into the soundtrack of Mysteries of Lisbon, and I have to give mad props to Raúl Ruiz, because he used it just right. But, continuing the mini-theme from my last post, it’s at least mildly deceptive that Jorge Arriagada’s name is the default credit for the music in this film. I’m sure Sr. Arriagada made a valuable contribution to the project, and I haven’t gone back and tallied up the music minute by minute, but I’d have to guess that at least 75% of the music in this very long film belongs to Sr. Freitas Branco.

Why not help even out the disparity: buy the Freitas Branco oeuvre here. Not that he’ll really care. But I will! And you’ll enjoy it! And we’ll all be happy! And moody. Oh, and you should watch Mysteries of Lisbon too — it’s really great!