The Big Arc
I am big on buildups.
Don't get me wrong; I love sensuous textures, visceral rhythms, and other elements that instantly engage a listener. Still, there is something about bearing witness to a long trajectory, a slow single-minded drive towards an unseen goal, which captivates me unlike anything else.
That process, of seeing the nascent threads of a rich tapestry grow and coalesce into an awe-inspiring whole, is the story of this concerto. Getting it right was imperative.
For the longest time, I was sure that I would achieve this arc with an aleatoric soundscape replete with fragments of previously-heard music floating around and stitching themselves together. This approach made sense: it was free, it was messy (in a desirable way), and would have been very effective...but it was not to be.
If I could call anything an accident in this piece, it would have to be this section: it did not follow my original plan; it went against many of my firmly held beliefs about contemporary music; and, to be perfectly frank, it happened by accident (well, the initial idea did).
What is it? Well, the foundation of the music is a canon on a diatonic melody scored for violas, cellos, basses. For those that are unfamiliar with my music, this is not par for the course (crunchy clusters and freely-developed ideas are more my thing). Despite this, having already committed to the theme at the end (see flugelhorn and harp parts), I could not help but embrace the canon as well.
Why? The shortest and most accurate (though admittedly imprecise) answer is that it felt right (as Debussy fan, I very much adhere to the notion that pleasure is law). The longer answer is that it struck a perfect balance between the foreign and the familiar and did so in a way that made it an ideal vehicle for advancing the drama.
Two characteristics made it compelling. First, there was repetition on both a phrase and paragraph level: the melody repeated within each section, and then the sections repeated as well. This periodicity provided a way to build tension while also serving as a foundation for the free material taking place in the flugelhorn and the violins. Second, the relentless and ritualistic nature of the canon felt like a perfect match for a narrative about repair: it embodied sustained effort, allowed for gradual change over time, and provided a seamless way to transition from individual voices (threads) to a unified sonic mass (a tapestry)
Side note: I have decided that this concerto will have movements, five to be exact. Though everything will still be played without a break, I feel that both the players and I will benefit from having some formal divisions between sections, whether they are audible or not.
