OZMA for orchestra (1996)
Program notes for the premiere:
Ozma was commissioned by the Topeka Symphony Orchestra to commemorate their 50th anniversary as an orchestra. The tie-in to Oz and Kansas seemed a good starting point for this concert overture. I read several of the sequels to Frank L. Baum’s Wizard of Oz and was immediately taken by Ozma, the third sequel. I set out to compose a “blow by blow” musical correspondence to the story, but soon abandoned this approach as it seemed too accompanimental. What finally came through was a concert opener whose themes were inspired by many of the characters and incidents in the book. It is not a prerequisite, however, to know the story in order to appreciate the music. Just sit back and imagine what you will. Ozma was written over the summer of 1995. I arose every morning at 4:30, fixed a strong cup of coffee, sat down in front of my computer, put on headphones, and listened to a CD of rain and thunderstorms. The piece went from my imagination directly into the computer: no pencil sketches, no piano, no synthesizers — just manually typing notes into the computer. When I finished, the piece clocked in at 15 minutes. In order to “proof” the piece, I connected the computer to two synthesizers, assigned staves to instrument, and the score “played itself.” Over the next week I edited the piece, and pared it down to the slim 10 minute work which you will here tonight.
Ozma was commissioned by the Topeka Symphony Orchestra to commemorate their 50th anniversary as an orchestra. The tie-in to Oz and Kansas seemed a good starting point for this concert overture. I read several of the sequels to Frank L. Baum’s Wizard of Oz and was immediately taken by Ozma, the third sequel. I set out to compose a “blow by blow” musical correspondence to the story, but soon abandoned this approach as it seemed too accompanimental. What finally came through was a concert opener whose themes were inspired by many of the characters and incidents in the book. It is not a prerequisite, however, to know the story in order to appreciate the music. Just sit back and imagine what you will.
Ozma was written over the summer of 1995. I arose every morning at 4:30, fixed a strong cup of coffee, sat down in front of my computer, put on headphones, and listened to a CD of rain and thunderstorms. The piece went from my imagination directly into the computer: no pencil sketches, no piano, no synthesizers — just manually typing notes into the computer. When I finished, the piece clocked in at 15 minutes. In order to “proof” the piece, I connected the computer to two synthesizers, assigned staves to instrument, and the score “played itself.” Over the next week I edited the piece, and pared it down to the slim 10 minute work which you will here tonight.
MP3: Play audio file (ozma.orchestra.mp3)
Ozma by Roger Bourland
MP3: Play audio file (we_mustered_out.mp3)
“We Mustered Out” from HOMER IN CYBERSPACE
Music by Roger Bourland Lyrics by Mel Shapiro
We Mustered Out Sung by all the soldiers
We mustered out With a roar and a shout “Get outta my way, I got ten years back pay”
I’m practically rich With the dough and the loot Stuck in an old boot A few treasures in there For my sweetie to wear.
We mustered out With a roar and a shout “Get outta my way This is finally my day”
I gotta practice not limping so much The last thing I need is anyone’s pity What I cant see, I’ll find by touch There’s gotta be a rehab in my city
I’m practically rich Gonna have me some fun Cause ten years war is won That was one if ever there was one To be won , to be won.
A bunch of us waiting at the dock Waiting to go home on anything that sails Anything’ll do A life raft or an old canoe When we hear…. O enters
O What a bunch of beat up old war dogs.
(The men bark and laugh)
Men G’day, general.
O I’m proud of everyone of you Let me know if there’s anything I can do.
Men How about hopping a ride? O Hey sure I got plenty of room inside. Where we going?
Men Thrace Sicily Thesaly Thebes Macedonia South Ionia
O Come on, all on my way
Men Is the ride free, sir?
O Sure, it’s what’s called soldier’s pay.
They all laugh All We mustered out With a roar and a shout And we’re going home Say it: home, Remember it: home Sing it loud and clear: home.
After large projects, or every few years I like to rearrange things. Sometimes it’s just my office. Sometimes it’s the whole place. When you have a studio with lots of wires and equipment, that can take a while. Well, that’s what I did the last three days and I’m pooped. I’m someone who is driven until the job gets done. So I get up early, and work solid without a break until night when I collapse.
I’ve also hooked up my turntable (for LPs, remember them?) and cassette player with the intention of digitizing some old performances, improvisations, and radio interviews. I’ve also decided to digitize some of the films I’ve written music for where the companies have not released the film on DVD. (I can’t wait until the next trend of digitizing every movie ever made and it will all be able to be downloaded at the click of a mouse!) I will post clips of this project over the upcoming year.
Yesterday’s earthquake was a doozy. 5.8 they said. I was in Radio Shack and the single story building was shaken from side to side, but business went on without incident. My dogs and birds didn’t like it so much (the birds call it a cage-quake). None of the precarious glass pieces that I had just put up were knocked down, nor the unsupported book cases. I know, I’m asking for it. Better get some earthquake putty and some L-brackets.
Having delayed doing my taxes, the dining room table is filled with receipts and with any luck, I’ll get them all ready for the accountant by Friday. First I get to have my annual physical exam and find about that suspicious mole or the funny sound in my heart or some other imagined malady.
“DreamDrag” from FLASHPOINT STONEWALL (1994) Music: Roger Bourland Lyrics: John Hall Bass: Craig Wheeler Chorus: Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles Conductor: Jon Bailey
FLASHPOINT/STONEWALL celebrated the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall riots, and was co-commissioned and performed by GMCLA, the Seattle Men’s Chorus, the Gay Men’s Chorus of Wash. DC, and the New York City Gay Men’s Chorus. The word “Stonewall” is now nearly synonymous with gay liberation.
Each chorus performed the whole work in its own city, and then an all-star cast of all the choruses sang it for 2 sold out audiences in Carnegie Hall.
The interlude in “DreamDrag” originally called for the drag queen to shoot up on stage, but we decided to tone it down.
Music is available from Yelton Rhodes Music.
© 1994 by Roger Bourland and John Hall. Recording by Kim Paulsen.
Here is an mp3 of the same performance:
MP3: Play audio file (flashpoint3.dreamdrag.mp3)
THREE ARIAS FOR CELLO AND PIANO
1. Cl’Airea (for Paul Reale and Claire Rydell)
MP3: Play audio file (arias-cello1.clairea.mp3)
2. Mount Shasta (For Mark Carlson and Charlie Swigart)
MP3: Play audio file (arias-cello2.mount_shasta.mp3)
3. In Paris (for John Hall)
MP3: Play audio file (arias-cello3.in_paris.mp3)
Ronald Leonard, cello Antoinette Perry, piano David Cloud, recording engineer Schoenberg Auditorium
Music: © 1989 Yelton Rhodes Music (BMI) Photo: © 2005 Roger Bourland “J 196″
Last night we helped Howard pack up Mike’s stuff. You saw a slide show (below) of his stuff, well, the time has come to pack it up and move it out. I was assigned the books. With Mike’s collection, there is an impressive number of metaphysical books, and specifically books on gnosticism. It seemed appropriate that they go to his church’s library. The rest will go sit in Howard’s garage until they find a home, along with all the other tchotchke’s around his house. But it got me thinking.
As I approach my retirement or my end, I’d like to slowly get rid of stuff. My library should be the most fun to give away, or sell. One one hand I could imagine retiring and having a hobby of selling all the stuff I’ve accumulated. On the other hand, to give stuff away that could mean something to the recipient, is so much more fun than leaving it to your executor to dispose of as s/he sees fit.
Among his effects I found concert programs for musical collaborations with Mark Carlson (Love Songs) and another with me (Acts of Love). He had kept the program to the premiere of my ROSARIUM. Nearly 20 albums of photography. Where will they go? Who wants to store two shelves of Mike’s photography?
Mike had only a fraction of what I have, so it hit home that a plan to get rid of stuff is a good plan.
Penelope is exasperated by suitors urging her to remarry and forget O. She is frustrated at her husband’s complete disappearance and wishes that he would just come home.
MP3: Play audio file (come_home.mp3)
Click to play
“Come Home” from HOMER IN CYBERSPACE
Music: Roger Bourland Lyrics: Mel Shapiro Soprano: Grace Wall Trumpet: Jens Lindemann
© 2008 Roger Bourland and Mel Shapiro Image: PENELOPE WAITING FOR ULYSSES The patient grief and endurance of Absence: the loyal wife puts off her suitors. Painting by Rudolph von Deutsch.
In the vein of FRIENDS, in case you haven’t seen this, here is a video you’ll never forget.
At age 55 I am fortunate to have both of my parents alive and well. Yesterday I blogged about my dad, and today, my mom.
JoAnn Rhodes Bourland was born in Flemingsburg, Kentucky, the only daughter of Marian and Nancy Rhodes. (Flemingsburg is just down the road from Maysville, y’know, the town where the Clooneys are from?) My parents have been married for 57 years and they are still madly in love.
Before I was born my mother played the piano. She knew some classical music supposedly (I never heard her play it), and won a competition, but my memory of her piano playing was always her playing hymns.
JoAnn’s mother’s sisters all played the organ — “by ear” my Grandmother would emphasize. My father’s father played piano for silent films (Slim Bourland and the Jazz Hounds) also “by ear.” As I came to reading music late, my piano sight reading skills have never been terrific, but my ear is fabulous, and I thank my mother and her aunts, and my father and his father for whatever genetic and cultural boost they gave me.
JoAnn cries easily — crying from being moved or touched by my dad’s sermon, or saying goodbye, or a beautiful moment. I have a similar tendency, and cherish moments where music brings one to tears. I choke up easily when speaking about things that move me, and hearing music that moves me. i know my siblings inherited the same sensitivity.
When my family visited my mother’s parents in Kentucky, when we went to church Granddaddy would sing tenor, Grandmother would sing soprano (the old lady wobble had already set it, but no matter), and Mother would sing alto. I was too you young to sing the bass, but I loved hearing that good ol’ southern harmony. As a composer I went through an Americana period where I studied with Randall Thompson and tapped into those Christian roots.
As my dad pointed out this weekend, one can tap into one’s roots, or grow entirely new ones.
Daniel and I spent the past four days in Phoenix, Arizona visiting my parents and seeing their new home. They love their new home and are healthy I’m happy to report. We were fortunate to hear my Dad give a sermon. He’s not lost his touch. It was great to hear him whip up the congregation with his terrific message. The congregation stood in line at the end of the service to greet my parents, welcome them back, and give a standing offer to come back and visit any time.
I couldn’t help but draw a parallel between his career and my own. His sermons have moved many people over the years. H/we may not be household names, but those who know us have valued our work and gifts. A powerful sermon and an effective piece of music can touch a person for a day — like a good meal, sometimes for their whole life. Ministers are usually not trained or encouraged to pursue being world famous. Composers are told in no uncertain terms that they are competing with Beethoven. I have always told my students that one can have a fulfilling life NOT being world-famous, and working in a community of their choice, teaching, collaborating, and providing music for your community. After all, most of the so-called classical composers that we we venerate and call world-famous, were not world-famous during their day. They provided music for their communities, and that was good enough.
[Photo of Roger Bourland, Jr. taken this weekend by his son (me), Roger Bourland, III.]
