Commiseration Celebration
| “I cried when I wrote this song. Sue me if I play too long.” - Donald Fagen | “Our little group has always been and always will until the end.” -Kurt Cobain |
Thank you all so much for being here. This recital is for all of you, my friends, performing, attending, here in spirit and those I absent-mindedly forgot to tell about it. Those of you who were present for last semester’s recital may make note of the narcissistic (tongue-in-cheek though, hopefully) focus. This one should be as opposite as a self-obsessed composer like myself can get. It would be easy for me to say something like, “I couldn’t have lasted as long as I have without God or without music.” But I’ve realized that I would certainly not know either without friends. This is why in these notes I will write about the pieces only in writing about the wonderful people performing them. People that deserve to be written about as musicians and composers, but as I’m hardly qualified to write at all, I am certainly not qualified to analyze the complexity of the oeuvre inside those composer/performers present here tonight. I regret not taking any earlier opportunity I may have had to pay tribute to the rest of you who’ve cared so much to attend and encouraged me these past months and years. Let it be an open invitation for cheap commissions, as I would gladly write for you and gush about you as well in the following manner. <<>>
Biljana: someone who gives out hugs soon after you first meet her, my adopted sister, who despite her schedule, has taken time to interpret what may be an extremely abstruse piece of music tonight. It is no small thing to have a performer like her who cares so much about the piece. And she’s doing it for love of her brother, Scott. The original idea for this recital concept was this piece, as a way to pay tribute to someone who has had automatic empathy for me since I met her, calling to make sure I wasn’t lonely, offering rides to the grocery perpetually and a ton of little things that emanate unadulterated warmth, which is keenly included in a kind of half serious instruction about how to treat people. This is a lesson we all occasionally need, and it is impossible to ignore when coming from Biljana, who is as strong-willed as she is warm. She is not shy if she sees an injustice of etiquette.
Nick, first of all, has written the most sublime, wonderful, and thoughtful vibraphone piece I have ever attempted to play or ever heard. I only mention this because it speaks to his emotional generosity when he consoles the performer who just butchered his piece, which happened not too long ago. His honesty can be best portrayed by his utterance regarding I-don’t-know-what not too long ago – “I’ll have an open mind about it, well, maybe not open, but it won’t be closed.” These points of conversation – all things musical and political et al are attacked with a passion both fiery and non-intimidating. He is also the main conduit to my Ashkenazic roots, an extremely important part of my identity, which he not only helps me to understand better, but helps our Semitic-composer contingent explain things to the gentile contingent, such as Zane.
Zane, who has his finger on the pulse of everyone’s neuroses, can be sensitive to the mental/emotional web-work that could be happening inside someone else, unbeknownst to everyone else. This, I’m sure, branches from his honesty regarding his own neurosis, which has always been amazingly forthright without ever being whiny, and is therefore a great comfort to those around him. This aspect of his personality has been paramount to the success of putting this recital together. Of course his adroit musicianship is very much on display this evening as well. His talents as a composer/performer are a great gift to all the composers who might ever meet him, as he is always looking not only for new pieces, but new challenges. I would also be remiss to not mention his excellent word choice in everyday conversation.
Adam has a few favorite words and catch phrases himself. When we think of Adam, we think ‘wonderful’, ‘beautiful’ and ‘prove it.’ Adam must be one of the mellowest people I have ever met. A few of us were wondering just the other day how Adam could possibly act if he was at all angry. No one had any idea, as we haven’t ever seen anything even close come from him. Even when the Giants beat the Patriots in the Super Bowl, he was mostly just a little annoyed by the prospect of some kind of 8-month New England Kvel. He projects this as a composer and a performer as well, because his main goal for others is always that they have fun. Despite this positive outlook, or because of it, he is always very capable of appreciating the darker side of artistic expression and/or humour.
Josh, who has an even darker sense of humour, slammed his head straight down on a piano during a performance on yesterday’s convocation with so much conviction that I am still thinking about it now. In performance and compositionally, commitment is paramount in Josh’s work. Personality-wise it is no different. Josh is the master of gesture; he still pays attention to the trees and the forest simultaneously, which is a lesson I could certainly use. In our little group, Josh is my brother in Avant-Garde or performance art, or whatever one might call it, the way Zane is my brother in Jazz and Zappa fan-dom and Matt, my brother in the pop world.
Matt is also my brother in the world of taking a bunch of time off before going to graduate school, though he had a much more substantial respite, playing and writing for musical theater out in Wild West. Hailing from way out there, he shares the laid back style of Adam, but in a particular California kind of way. By that I mean that he doesn’t seem to even possess the concept of neurosis that an East coaster, at best, sloughs off and/or ignores. The one member of Ensemble 48 with whom I could hold a conversation about professional football, Matt’s also the guy with whom I would often talk about the ladies (which Zane found quite amusing as Matt and I are the oldest in the group) –albeit mostly before certain very positive life changing events.
Megan, the only non-composer member of Ensemble 48, is sometimes a little meek, often apologetic and always too humble. A big part of the way this piece is written is to take advantage of her incredible and powerful stage presence, which the rest of our little group has witnessed in the several months we’ve known her. She is yet another friend who, despite her busy schedule (including an upcoming March 6th recital), which in turn is due to her incomparable talent, has not only tackled a very challenging piece of music, but she was also engaged in what is not exactly a normal recording session as part of the piece. I cannot decide if the greatest joy of writing this piece was seeing/hearing how much child-like fun Megan had when we were recording and playing a violin with contact microphones and little super balls, or how malleable and quick she was in rehearsing the piece when I would get a flash and want to change this, that, or the other thing.
Lydia, along with her mother, also let me get the piece to her kind of late and let me work out the composer’s whim on many elements of another very challenging piece. Most of my feelings for Lydia are ineffable. I have witnessed on many occasions, in the short time I’ve know her, people thanking Lydia for helping them through an emotional rough patch and making their day, that much brighter by her very presence. This was, through pure effortless kindness and curiosity on her part, the environment of our first meeting. I have become lucky enough to get more than my fair share of this gift and can never be thankful enough. I have also never met someone who has taught me more about the sacredness of every single thing in this world. She leads softly and by example. What she has taught me about confidence and generosity and thankfulness and perspective will stay with me for the rest of my life.
I can see this generosity of spirit is one of the gifts Lydia has received from her mother, Catherine Bringerud, who was need not put the amount of effort, open mindedness and care in the work of a young composer as she has. As all of us here at Butler witness at least once a week, Mrs. Bringerud is a consummate professional. I am honored, humbled, and thankful to have her wonderful contribution not only to this recital tonight, but to the development of the piece.
There is a reception with sumptuous delights. Some are culinary representatives of the pieces you’ve heard tonight even.
Final Quick Point. I’ve gotten a little flack for my use of the word commiseration. Perhaps we have to take a kind of Beckettian perspective to come to an agreement. (Or maybe I’m full of crap. But let’s give it a whirl anyway). I don’t see commiseration as a negative thing, because one could see all camaraderie as Sympathy (capital S), because one does not necessarily looks at life as a naturally happy predicament. But, like a true Beckettian, we have to accept, be content with and even love this fact. The great gift is that one can talk, kvetch and share with those who share the same experience, and therefore take solace in the camaraderie, the commiseration —Friends.
Sharing the things we know and love, with those of our kind.
-Donald Fagen
