About:

This is a collection of music that I have written over the course of my higher education.

As a composer, I take inspiration from other composers and their music. It is difficult to pick a favorite area of music without being too broad or obtuse—let's call it multivocalic tonal music: music that is comprised of pitches for more than one voice. I tend not to like music that relies too much on unpitched percussion, rhythym, or effects, but these also have their place.

Most of the music I draw from tends to have three components: melody, harmony, and counterpoint. To me, the most important of these is counterpoint, as you will see in the following section. I have listed several composers with a description of how I draw from them in approximate order of importance.

Bach's vast corups of contrapuntal work is my main inspiration. Many would cite his two books of 24 Preludes and Fugues (48 total) as his primary contrapuntal work, but as I have studied more of his work, I would cite some of his liturgical cantatas as striking examples of masterful counterpoint. I will cite two cantatas in partictular: Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit, BWV 106, and Widerstehe doch der Sünde, BWV 54.

The opening movements of both of these cantatas, two of his earlier works, display unique contrapuntal techniques. The former features two mostly-unison recorder parts, with some voice crossing and some striking, half-step and whole-step "neighbour-tone suspensions" (I am combining terminology to describe Bach's unique technique; he alternates between recorder parts, dropping out of the unison pitch to a neighboring dissonance, only to step back into the unison consonance). The latter cantata opens with a striking dominant-over-tonic sound and the melody between two violin parts in stretto and a whole step apart. Due to the way the theme is written, there is plenty of voice crossing between these two violin parts, and there are many unanticipated suspensions, a favorite of mine.

I would be remiss if I failed to mention The Art of Fugue, BWV 1054, and the Mass in B Minor, BWV 232. I could go on forever about Bach's work, despite how little of it I have actually consumed. On a sidenote, you may notice that I chose a recording of Glenn Gould playing The Art of Fugue; this was intentional. Whenever I discover a "new" keyboard work of Bach's, I try to find a recording by Gould, if one exists. He cares so much about each individual voice. His meticulous style of performance would enhance any work.

Contrary to the work of Bach, I am primarily inspired by Shostakovich's Op. 87—his 24 Preludes and Fugues. The work opens with a tranquil lullaby. The Prelude in C Major is a brilliant study in the idiomatic use of 20th century harmony. The Fugue in C Major to follow is even more brilliant. Not a single black key is used throughout the duration of the fugue, not to mention the simple melody, which could be a traditional nursery-rhyme. Instead of using modulation, Shostakovich creates harmonic and contrapuntal interest by incorporating modal mixture and tight stretti of the theme.

There are several great performances of Shostakovich's Op. 87, but for the purposes of this introduction I chose Igor Levit's rendition of the first prelude and fugue. His clean, metronomic style, his mild use of rubato, and the overall quality of the recording lend to an ideal listening experience. Tatiana Nikolayeva's performance is a classic; something about the old recording brings out the low-register dissonances that are characteristic of Shostakovich's style. She plays the first fugue with a more striking tempo than Levit, and she uses rubato more liberally. I love the way she ends the fugue: she takes a slightly slower, soothing tempo and a softer dynamic towards the end of the piece when Shostakovich, after weaving together tight, dramatic stretti of the theme in octaves, fragments the theme, calmly guiding the listener back to C major.

Shostakovich's whole body of work is inspiring, given the circumstances of his career; being a passionate, creative musician in the Soviet Union during the early twentieth century could not have been easy. Nevertheless, his most inspiring work to me is his Op. 87, the 24 Preludes and Fugues. What a bold endeavour to copy the title and form of the great master of fugue, who himself wrote not one, but two books of 24 Preludes and Fugues, not to mention his other monothematic contrapuntal works. Let's suppose that Bach's works were the Thesis of Fugue (in his own era Bach was looking to even more ancient music, such as that of Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, and bringing it into the fold of his common practice), then Shostakovich could be considered the Synthesis of Fugue. Shostakovich's unique treatment of counterpoint in his unique, twentieth century style demonstrates that he could look back, look across, and look forward, just as Bach did.

I was introduced to David Maslanka in 2019 when I played Give Us This Day. This piece in particular occupies a special place in my memory of making music. I performed it the spring that I graduated high school, and (at the time of writing) I am preparing to perform it again the spring that I graduate college. Between the two performances, I have also done score study on this piece in an academic context. I have picked up several composition techniques from Give Us This Day, particularly, the melodic variation of a theme through solo parts (I executed this technique in the fourth movement of my second Symphony), the reharmonization of external source material, and the modern treatment of the sonata form.

Just as with Shostakovich, I have not studied much of Maslanka's other work, so I cannot characterize his whole body of work with confidence.

John Williams is an American composer best known for his film scores. My favorite work of his is the Star Wars soundtrack, particularly the prequel trilogy (this isn't to say that I don't like the original trilogy's soundtrack—The Imperial March happens to be my favorite track from Star Wars).

Williams has inspirations of his own.