This is, literally, my musical diary–notes fresh from my pen and recorded in a few hours. You can find my finished works elsewhere; here, it's all about capturing the moment!
As the year ends, I’m going to try to catch up on blogging 2023 compositions. Posting them in 2024 will seem…stale.
This arrangement of the classic Christmas carol, “Once in Royal David’s City” is a collaboration between me and my old friend Carlos Colón. (That is not to say he’s elderly–we’ve just been friends for a long time.)
The arrangement began its life as a violin and piano duet written for Sarah York. Carlos used it in one of his Christmas services at Baylor University. Since he also had a cellist available, he had the cello double the bass line of the piano part. It worked splendidly. This Christmas he turned it into a full-fledged arrangement for strings and flute. Bravo!
I have a certain ambivalence about Christmas music. On the one hand, I like a bit of schmalz as much as the next guy. On the other hand, do we really need to listen to Mariah Carey from the day after Halloween until shortly before the new year?!
Having said that, I was playing around at the piano the other day, and out popped an idea just begging to be a Christmas song. At first, I was thinking it would be a miss-you-at-Christmas song, a la “Blue Christmas.” But then I thought of how beautiful Michigan is in the winter and what a lovely place it is for family to gather on the holidays. So I wrote an ode to our fair state from the perspective of someone hoping to bring far-flung loved ones back for Christmas.
1. Arizona sounds great on a winter day, but I’d miss all the magic of a snowflake.
Warm and sunny every day has its charms, I guess, but I still love the way the seasons change.
2. As the fire of autumn leaves begins to freeze and the sun shines so bright upon the city’s streets;
Oh, the air may be brisk– I don’t mind a bit when I think of the warm home waiting for me.
Don’t you miss it in the Mitten? You know your home will always be here.
Don’t you miss it in the Mitten? Come back for Christmas in Michigan.
We started this “Music Unites Us” series with an overview video introducing the project. We’ll end with this documentary that goes behind the scenes, interviewing the performers and me about the creative process. I usually hate watching videos of myself, but this video is interesting enough that I watched it all the way through!
Lương Chí Cường moved to America a few years ago after a successful singing career in his home country of Vietnam, even winning Vietnamese Idol. The song we chose for his collaboration with the Holland Symphony Orchestra was a rousing song of national pride, Dòng máu Lạc Hồng (The Children of Lac Hong).
This song has the feel of a score from a Hollywood blockbuster, with strings soaring into their upper register and brass punching through with regal fanfares. Still, the full orchestra is no match for Cuong’s powerhouse voice, spectacular wardrobe, and performance style. When he left the stage and sauntered into the crowd (3:26) I thought the crowd would lose its collective mind!
Besides the overall pedal-to-the-metal orchestration throughout, here are a few moments I particularly like:
2:31 I discovered a while back that using a clothespin as a violin mute imitated the nasal tone of the Chinese Erhu or Vietnamese Dàn Gáo. The first time the orchestra rehearsed this section, everyone looked around to see what exotic new instrument this might be.
4:01 The percussion-heavy arrangement culminates in an extended percussion section in which two sets of tom-toms spar over a foundational beat from the drum set.
4:46 At the final return of the chorus, I wanted to ramp up the energy even more, so I used an unprepared modulation to increase the intensity, switched the flutes to piccolos, and gave all the woodwinds Philip Glass-style arpeggios that really cut through the wall of sound coming from the rest of the orchestra.
Samuel Nalangira is a Ugandan songwriter and multi-instrumentalist who has lived in West Michigan for several years. He is a consummate performer, an Adungu virtuoso, and a lovely human being.
He wrote a song when his twins were born called “Babirye” (the firstborn among twins). While many of his songs are energetic opportunities for Samuel to teach audiences African dance moves, “Babirye” is a mesmerizing, tender song based on a repeated Adungu* arpeggio.
The challenge with this song is that a four-chord pattern repeats over and over with vocals floating freely on top of that foundation. I decided that the best approach would be almost minimalist–some doubling of the Adungu arpeggio, a cloud of strings, and soloists and sections of the orchestra filling in the spaces between Samuel’s vocals like a conversation. This was one of my favorite arrangements; it felt like the orchestra added depth and texture, heightening Samuel’s already beautiful song.
Pay special attention to a few moments in the performance:
4:18 The song builds slowly with muted, sustained strings and light percussion doubling. More musicians are added little by little until a final build-up to the chorus at 7:30.
8:17 The oscillating marimba pattern worked beautifully in this section.
8:42 The “Babirye” theme moves through the orchestra, building lush chords.
10:30 I like how the arrangement winds down: the full orchestra finishes, and the strings take over, followed by short a woodwind coda.
Grupo Super Nova is Cumbia band from Holland, MI, comprised of the Garcia brothers, who immigrated from Mexico when they were children. We decided on their original song, “Sufro Por Tu Amor” (“How Long Must I Suffer for Your Love?”) written by Christian Paul Garcia when he was 16.
Here’s where my job as an orchestrator became interesting. Cumbia is a Latin style that features a strong backbeat to create upbeat, danceable music. Upbeat and danceable are not typically an orchestra’s forte… Further complicating the task is that Super Grupo Nova already includes an electric bass and drum set, so I had to find ways to have them complement each other rather than fight.
A few notable moments:
1:45 Grupo Super Nova’s original recording began with a quiet synth pad and a digital harp arpeggio. It translated beautifully into solo violin and string pizzicato.
3:26 I love this string ostinato against the song’s melody. Together, they really soar.
4:00 This orchestral interlude felt just right–a brief moment for the orchestra to take the lead, with the melody volleying between sections. It was also at this point in the performance that the rhythm gelled between the band and the orchestral percussion. (In retrospect, we should have put the band on the percussion side of the orchestra so they could hear each other.)
The first collaboration was with Nina Tritenichenko. She sings and plays Bayan Accordion, an all-button accordion that is common throughout the world, including her home country of Ukraine. The tune she chose was “Ikhav Kozak za Dunaj” (“The Cossack Rode beyond the Danube”). This folk song became popular throughout the world by its German name, “Schöne Minke” (“Beautiful Minke”).
Nina had a specific set of variations on the Minka tune that she wanted to perform. Because her accordion part was set in stone, my task was to build around it with the orchestra. I began by composing a grand overture-style introduction–a fanfare that established the tone of what was to come. Next, she sang a verse of the song to introduce the theme. Each variation became increasingly complex and exciting, with orchestration to match.
Some favorite moments in this arrangement include:
4:00 I turned this variation into a duet with the concertmaster! It added texture to the solo accordion and let an orchestra member momentarily come to the foreground.
4:42 I’m a huge fan of arpeggios that sweep through the orchestra like a harp. This one worked magnificently.
5:00 This interlude gave Nina a breather and created anticipation for the final, flashy variation.
This year I was asked by the Holland Symphony Orchestra to work with four global musicians to choose and arrange a selection they would perform with the orchestra. I was thrilled: I have a lifelong interest in global music, have studied Ethnomusicology, played with an African drum ensemble, and edited a collection of global hymns.
In fact, my work with global worship music gave me good experience in what I call “musical transplanting”: taking music from one culture and helping it flourish in another context. It’s a delicate process. Non-Western music is full of timbres, rhythms, and aesthetic sensibilities that aren’t part of a Western context. Ideally, you want to engage with another culture’s music in a way that honors the sending culture but is also accessible to the receiving culture. This is made all the more difficult because many global musicians are play-by-ear musicians whereas Western-trained musicians–especially orchestras–rely on printed music.
In the next few blog posts, I’ll introduce each musician I worked with and discuss the unique approach required to transplant their music into an orchestral context. First, enjoy this overview video that explains how the Music Unites Us project came to be.
Continuing the series of jazz demos I recorded with Steve Talaga, here is something a little different. “Can We Begin This Again?” is perhaps at the edges of jazz, depending on how you define jazz. It leans toward the pop side of things: Laufey*, Sade, Norah Jones, or Bruce Hornsby, for example.
More notable are the lyrics. It’s so easy to get stuck in the trappings of genre: heavy metal is angry, singer-songwriters are introspective, and jazz is about romance, found and lost. In this song, we’re listening in on two lovers arguing. There is the immediate need to deescalate and take up the conversation later, the realization that a lot of our conflict is based on past events rather than what your partner said or did, and the hope that friction is one of the things that makes a relationship go deeper. In that way, it’s a lot like the Williams Brothers’ song, “Friction.”
1. Can we begin this again when we’ve both had some sleep, some time to cool off and some space to think?
This is just going to end the way it began: with so many words we’re going to regret.
Words that are heard as an echo of voices that hurt us long ago.
Can we begin this again?
2. We can’t begin this again as if we’d just met; as if there’s nothing to lose and the cement is still wet.
As time goes on ruts start to form, but love can grow deep as the path is worn.
Can we grow closer still through the failure and pain? Offer the tender parts of our hearts every day?
Can we begin this again?
*For a fascinating introduction to Gen-Z phenom Laufey, see Adam Neely’s video, Is Laufey Jazz?
Sometimes you have to cut through all the angst and just be happy, right?
This song is a light and airy pop tune whose instructions say: “Without a trace of cynicism.” Indeed, it is one of the happiest tunes I’ve ever written; hence the title, “Content.”
Now, it might seem that writing a carefree little tune would be easy, but this actually went through about five drafts before I settled on a final version that felt bouyant, but not cloying; a bon bon of musical goodness that was satisfying rather than sickeningly sweet.
