Tuesday Night New Music

Tuesday Night New Music is a student-run, faculty-supervised concert series that offers the opportunity to hear music by the next generation of composers: current NEC composition students. The series is directed by Stephanie Economou '12 and Katherine Balch '14 Tufts/NEC, under the supervision of composition chair Michael Gandolfi.

The notes on these works were written by the respective composers.

Julian Korzeniowski Dimethyltryptamine
Sarah Yanovitch, soprano
Daniel Koo, Alec Lindsay, violin
Linda Numagami, viola
Alex Hersh, cello
David Tarantino, vibraphone

Arielle Rabinowitz Luciole
Birth - Journey - Death
Katherine Althen, flute
Sam Waring, oboe
David Tarantino, vibraphone
Marza Meraphi Wilks, cello

The piece consists of three movements which as a whole seek to convey the evanescent life of a firefly. The first movement begins quietly and slowly gains ground, indicative of the birth and early life of the young firefly as a glowworm. The repetitive measure gesture hints at the characteristic flitting motion, which has a critical role in the second movement. The second movement contains fast "buzzing" passages initiated by a triplet phrase played by the vibraphone across all instruments, to illustrate the firefly's brief journey and passage through adulthood. Lastly, the final movement is more somber and portrays an entirely contrasting character in comparison to the other two movements. At this stage, the firefly begins to falter, yet the occasional trills represent a glimmer of the firefly's life and a reminder to the listener of its fateful journey.

Joseph Mannarino vocalise/meditation on a breath for double bass and bass player
Nash Tomey, double bass

I should begin by thanking my player Nash Tomey, for whom this piece is written. He has been so dedicated to the process of creating this piece; it would not exist in this state if it weren’t for him. Thanks also to both of my teachers; to John Mallia, with thanks for keeping me out of the world of pretension, and to John Heiss, for reminding me that pitch does matter. I began this piece with two goals in mind: to write a piece that would break the traditional "classical concert performance" mold, and to create a piece in which noise and music could coexist, each aiding the other to make them both more vital. I feel strongly that these types of musical expression should not be exclusive. The piece’s "gimmick" is found in the subtitle: duet for double bass and double bass player. I find one of the most exciting parts of performance to be when you hear a player’s breath intertwined into their interpretation of the music. Taking this, I have composed into the music a pattern of breath that exists alongside the music being played. I call for the player to breathe through different filters, such as "tss" or "huh," and also ask for the player to speak. As the bass develops, so does the voice, moving from breathing calmly to muttering, then to speech, and dissolving back into breath.

The hope with the breath is to engage the audience in a way that they may not have perceived before. Breath is a sort of "unisonance," an event that we all experience and share as living beings. By calling for breath in this piece, I’m hoping to unify the audience with the player and the music in a primal and highly personal way. The music itself is fractured, as if you are hearing the piece filtered through a prism. Isolated events are linked by undeveloped musical motives, static figures that can be perceived as almost always unchanging. I am striving in this way to create the experience of watching a player in a practice room. Perhaps the overall structure is lost, but small events are linked in a way that creates a fabric that is unique and, hopefully, meaningful. I would ask only that as an audience member, you try to focus inward on your own breath, to see how it changes as the piece moves forward in time.

Katherine Balch Night Songs
Prelude - Chorale and Fugue - Dance (Quickstep)
Perry Tal, violin
Oded Hadar, cello
Yannick Rafalimanana, piano

This piece was written for my friends Daniel Hawkins and Rachel Massey, with the expectation that eventually, Daniel (a wonderful cellist and composer) and Rachel (a magnificent violinist—and also my violin teacher for the summer of 2011) and I (a quite mediocre pianist) could one day play the trio together. As I look at the completed score, I hope they do not hold me to that promise!
While the material for Night Songs was floating around my head for the good part of a semester, I through-composed the piece in a two-week flurry over the
winter holiday. This was an important exercise for my creative metabolism, which is not typically so fast. In the compositional process, I learned a lot about my habits and musical mannerisms, but also about how to trust my instinct where I might otherwise have not.

Because syntax and form has always been a priority for me,  I chose to play with Baroque forms: The first movement builds around a "ground bass," and the second movement interplays a chorale and a fugue, whose subject is derived from the chorale material. The third movement—though distinct in content from his Holiday Quickstep—is my personal "hats off" to Charles Ives, who continues to be an immensely influential part of my musical development because of his successful execution of formal non-sequiturs. In this way, the third movement is my "non-sequitur" in relation to the rest of the piece.

The title of this piece comes from a chapter in Friedrich Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra, in which the protagonist recites a "night song" that, among other things, is about Zarathustra’s desire to create, and his acknowledgement of the courage, loneliness, and embrace of the unknown that is often a prerequisite for any sort of creative endeavor. Nietzsche’s writings about art capture many of my own feelings regarding composition that I am unable to articulate so poignantly. In any matter, the title seems fitting for the compositional process of this particular piece.

I am so thankful to Perry, Yannick, and Oded for the time and energy they have put into rehearsals—I am indebted to John Heiss for pairing me up with such immensely talented, kind, and thoughtful artists.

"Night has come: alas that I must be light! And thirst for the nocturnal! And loneliness! Night has come: now my craving breaks out of me like a well; to speak I crave.

"Night has come; now all fountains speak more loudly. And my soul too is a fountain. Night has come; now all the songs of lovers awaken. And my soul too is the song of a lover.

"Thus sang Zarathustra."

Max Wittcoff Lea’s Romp
Sarah Sullivan, flute
Lisa Fujita, violin
Nathan G. Raderman, clarinet
Marza Meraphi Wilks, cello
Jingsi Lu, piano

Tyler Gilmore Cowboy Poetry for Two Cellos
South Fork - Popo Agie - Medicine Bow - North Platte
Sonia Mantell, Marza Meraphi Wilks, cello

Cowboy Poetry is a suite of short textural works dedicated to the beautifully winding rivers of Wyoming.

Jason Belcher I win
performed by the composer on baritone horn

Neal Markowski Generic No. 13: Wake/Joy/Spent
Hayes Griffin, Neal Markowski, Vanessa Wheeler, electric guitar
Frank Ojeda, electric bass
Philip Allen, cymbal wall
Beth McDonald, projectionist

On one hand, what you are hearing is a totally complete work. On the other, it’s merely sketches for a larger work to be written, a piece with an overarching theme and concept, and yes, there will be actual notes in that piece. There will also be fully notated notes in tonight’s piece as well, that I wrote on a piece of paper with a mechanical pencil. There’s also the countless cassette tapes filled with ideas and the occasional missing tapes that wake me up at night.

So please enjoy what you see and experience here tonight. I’m not here to tell you what this piece is about—be a proactive listener and be involved in the process of hearing a new piece of music for the first time. Ultimately, we’ll reach a point where the focus is where it belongs and I will tell you what this is all about. Until then, be involved, be active, make choices, and if you want something done right, do it yourself.