A New Beginning: May the Words (1973)

This, in a few words, is long overdue.

Having been recently added to the composer roster of MusicSpoke.com is the impetus for the appearance of this new venture, which has been in the planning stages only since May of this year.

I owe gathering up the courage and resolve to embark hereupon to two small and wondrously useful books by visual artist Austin Kleon: Steal Like An Artist and, probably more so, Show Your Work!

Of the latter book, he says:

“In ten tight chapters, I lay out ways to think about your work as a never-ending process, how to build an audience by sharing that process, and how to deal with the ups and downs of putting yourself and your work out in the world:

1. You don’t have to be a genius.

2. Think process, not product.

3. Share something small every day.

4. Open up your cabinet of curiosities.

5. Tell good stories.

6. Teach what you know.

7. Don’t turn into human spam.

8. Learn to take a punch.

9. Sell out.

10. Stick around.”

I highly recommend it! (No, I haven't become Mr. Kleon’s publicist—credit where credit is due, that’s all.)

For decades now, I have been working in relative obscurity, as countless composers now and before me have done; always hoping for That One Big Break(through) that will change my fortunes for the better. That’s hard enough to come by in the music industry, let alone if one, like me, is classically oriented, and, worse yet, not regularly writing for the concert hall. And said break(through) probably has to be not singular, but at least several in number, if not many.

That’s not to say that my work is completely unknown and unheard, as is the fate of far too many. Indeed, I am very fortunate in that there are a few places (mostly houses of worship, as it turns out) where some music of mine is heard with some regularity. Alas, that brand of journeyman work—liturgical music miniatures of one sort or another, original or arranged—true gebrauchsmusik, if you think about it—somehow doesn't count as being a successful composer nowadays—if, indeed, it ever did.

We in the classically-oriented end of the field tend to think that we have no choice but to work and create in obscurity. If no one knows or cares about what we’re doing, we remain obscure. Couple that with fear of rejection, and it becomes a vicious, depressing, and soul-draining cycle.

This is the source of the name for this blog: No More Rusty Paper Clips! Too many of us have had them handed to us: we submit a work to a competition or for consideration by a conductor for programming, and it is returned to us after some months (or years) with a rusty paper clip in one corner—meaning: it was never unclipped and looked over.

No more, I say! Of course, electronic media and sending .pdfs out makes paper clips somewhat obsolete, but still…No more, I say!

In this day and age of social media and the blogosphere, there’s really no reason not to put one’s work/works-in-progress out for examination and scrutiny any more. True, it’s still possible to have one's work met with indifference (been there, too; far too many times…), but the chances of that should be smaller the bigger the population one reaches—I hope!

So: at this point in my life (the youth of my old age, I guess) it’s time to start showing my work intentionally and committedly, and to start following Mr. Kleon's 10 Steps. I don’t see these as 10 easy steps, nor, I suspect, would he—some are easier than others. In fact, each of these steps seems to call for commentary of one sort or another. (Oh, boy! Material for another 10 posts at least!)

Initially, many of the pieces I'll be talking about here have recordings posted on Soundcloud.com; more specifically: <https://soundcloud.com/robert-ross-9>, where my handle is <Robert Ross 11>. (I can't explain the "robert-ross-9" in the URL…) Soundcloud.com is free to join (though you don’t have to join; & once you do, you don’t have to post anything or spend any money there). It will simply be nice to know if you've listened to something of mine there. Soundcloud.com has mobile apps for iOS and Android as well.

The bottom line is that when I talk about a work of mine, you’ll be able to listen to it, come to your own conclusions, comment thereon…and, maybe even become interested in performing it? Buying it? Recording it? Etc., etc., etc. it?

And that’s my goal: to generate interest in/inspire performances and/or recordings of/inspire commissions for more of—my music. In short: to become less obscure and more in-demand—to establish a brand! (Hmmmnnnnn: “Establish a brand/be in demand!” Catchy…)

How often will I be posting? Good question! Blogs are, after all, a big commitment requiring fresh material regularly! I’m going to aim to post once every two weeks or so initially—I’m not certain this is a topic that necessarily merits a daily or even a weekly post, despite what Mr. Kleon’s Step #3 advises. Then again, maybe I’ll discover he's right…

Every once in a while, I reserve the right to veer into an area not directly related to my music, but I don’t plan to do that very often.

So: I invite you to become part of an interested, supportive community here—not just of me, but of everyone who participates herein. Sign up for Soundcloud.com now and check out what’s there, just in general! I may create related FaceBook and Twitter accounts specifically for this blog—it depends on what happens once it’s out in cyberspace. If you know other potentially interested musicians/conductors/composers, please help me spread the word—<insert cliché of your choice regarding greater numbers…>.

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As this is a beginning, it seems fitting that it include some sort of invocation/benediction; and so my initial offering here is an early work: May the Words (1973) for SATB choir a cappella on Psalm 19:15 (14).

This piece was inspired by having sung David Amram’s setting of a longer version of the text in English translation found in his Shir L’erev Shabbat (pub. C.F. Peters; now, apparently, out of print) which the Temple University Concert Choir (then under the direction of Robert Page) sang to open its Spring, 1973 tour concerts. It was on June 14, after completion of that year’s tour, that I sat down that afternoon and composed this setting in the space of about an hour.

My musical goal in this piece was to create something mystical-sounding by striking a balance between Renaissance-style polyphony (that year’s tour program also included the Josquin DesPres Ave Maria…Virgo Serena—my first exposure to the music of DesPres) and thoroughly modern tonal language. That the piece practically wrote itself that quickly is still an exhilarating memory!

I submitted it to Mr. Page in the Fall of 1973. It took until his very last concert with the Temple University Concert Choir in May, 1975 for him to program it—but program it, he did!

To this day, I think it works well—it has been sung any number of times in synagogue services (mostly High Holy Days) and Judaica concerts in which I have been involved. It is suitable not just for synagogue (as a post-Amidah meditation), but also church (introit, short anthem, or communion meditation), or as a concert opener.

The recording (to which you may listen here) comes from a concert by the Yavneh Ensemble under my direction. It is now published by MusicSpoke.com and purchasable from them here . MusicSpoke.com co-founder Kurt Knecht’s reflections about May the Words may be found here.

Enjoy, and see you again soon!