Roger Bourland
writes about music and life

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.]

Friends have asked why I am so comfortable sharing my thoughts, fantasies, and life on a blog. I assure them and you that you don’t get them all, although it would be a more popular blog if I did.

It is probably related to my desire to teach, more specifically, to share what I have learned and have found interesting or helpful. It is probably related to my desire to write music and share it with those who are interested in hearing it. Growing up as a budding artist can be difficult. I hope that young people, my students and readers alike, can glean something from my posts.

This blog is still in the top 50 classical blogs (see Steve’s biannual update on his blog) so people are reading it.

I’m a bird. I’m a cricket. I’m a cicada.

…

[Image © 2005 Tarmle]

Michael William Lafferty died this month after a long struggle with various life threatening illnesses. I photographed his marvelous apartment before it was taken down. You’ll see a special person reflected in the things he’s collected. The music is from the FOUR LAST SONGS of Richard Strauss sung by Jessye Norman.

Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

Howard got a choice box at the Bowl last night and invited Del, Larry and me to join him. We zipped into valet parking, dropped off the car and walked in, and afterwards walked to get our car and exited quickly. That by itself made the concert a thrill. The LA Phil sounded great. The Hollywood Bowl sounded great, but then we had some of the best seats in the house. We heard a set of Bartok Romanian Dances which I loved but the audience couldn’t keep the applause going for the conductor to get off the stage; the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto (3 callbacks for the soloist and conductor); and the Dvorak 7th Symphony — the latter sounding more like Sibelius to me these days. Impression: flashy concerti work well at the Bowl. Big wet pieces like the Dvorak also make for enjoyable Bowl meditations. Sit back, relax, think about stuff, listen to the beautiful sounds, the sky, the smell, your friends, and the helicopters.

There were 7 flyovers by helicopters or small airplanes last night. What’s the deal? I thought that was illegal. But Howard said that he likes to go to the Bowl for that reason. He LIKES the ambient sounds. The sneezes, the flyovers (not so much), and especially the crickets.

Our old friend Mike died last Monday. Angus, his former partner of many years, came down to help out and spent the week with us. Having guests always throws business as usual out the door, but it was a pleasure spending time with him. A requiem mass was held at the Gnostic church where Mike was a priest. Although a 2 and a half hour service is too long for my tastes, we all survived and were touched after all the liturgy was over when the bishop sat down and gave his homily confessing what a great friend, colleague and priest Mike had been. We were all relieved that Mike was finally released form his pain and cancer.

One of Mike’s hobbies was making necklaces, a hobby Daniel and I picked up for a while, back when we both had more free time. We loved looking at all the people at the mass who were wearing Mike’s necklaces.

A small reception was held at his apartment after the service. I took photos of his place which I hope to post here this week. It is an amazing place and Howard, the executor of Mike’s estate, has decided to let it just stay there for the rest of the month. We all wished it could just turn into a museum but know that that is not going to happen. Most of the stuff will be dispersed to his close friends, family and his church.

After I got home, I decided to pay attention to my animals who needed exercise. So I threw the ball for the dogs, and then brought my parrots inside for their workout. I get them on my finger and then we run around the house so that can “fly” with their clipped wings and still get a work out. In the process of doing that, I jammed my big toe into the door jam on the floor and ripped my toe nail, causing unbelievable pain. Hoping it might go away, I sat moaning in the kitchen, when Daniel and Angus came out hearing my strange sounds. Having no pain meds, they went back to Mike’s knowing that he had a cabinet full of it. They returned with a tablet of Oxycontin (sp?) which did the trick within 15 minutes. As the night went on, I felt more and more nauseous, and went to bed. In the morning I threw up and was sick for most of the day. I was told that this medication is hot on the black market. Ugh! Why would anyone want to feel like that?

I realized, during my own little ordeal, how debilitating pain can be. Even though pain can come from one little part of the body (e.g., the toe or a tooth), your entire body and psyche are in pain. Mike had Delauded (sp?) administered to him by a little machine around his neck, and was living on Oxydingdong. Ugh, he must have been in unfathomable pain.

I’m thankful today to be over the pain, and the horrible side effects of the pain medication. Next time, I’ll reach for an ibuprophen and call it a day.

“Finding Poppa”
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Athena appears on one of his screens who, masquerading as a cyber-hooker on hotgodesses.com only to offer tips on where his father might be. Telly promises her to stay off the porn sites and stay true to his mission in “Poppa, my Poppa.”

“Poppa, my Poppa”
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Music: Roger Bourland
Lyrics: Dan Kelleher
Tenor: Tony Silva
from HOMER IN CYBERSPACE
© 2008 by Roger Bourland, Mel Shapiro and Daniel Keleher

B (see “Friends III“) died this week. H was named the executor of his estate and he has done an excellent job. I only overheard part of the phone calls he made and received and see what an incredible effort and a labor of love it has been. B was H’s sponsor in AA and was a great friend. H was there for B every single day to the end. We should all be so lucky to have an H in our life, whether as a partner or a friend.

H had to deny a group of metaphysical colleagues wanting to do some special blessings on the body, but the mortuary had its limits and H supported them. (I was imagining a replay of Gram Parsons’s famous body kidnapping episode after his death, but no, only a blessing was wished for.)

I photographed his amazing apartment and will go back again this morning to pick up a few more. N flew in from Mexico and she has been staying at B’s.

When H offered for me to come over and take some things, I was hesitant and insisted that he, N, and G all go through first. I loathe the feeding frenzy that is human and animal nature over the property of a recently departed one. I discussed it with Daniel and we both are happy to have just a few things that, when we look at them we say “That’s B!”

B’s nickname was The Red Lion, and he was fortunate to be able to live in the most gorgeous West Hollywood apartment whose front window has a Red Lion in it.

Bon voyage, Lion rouge!

John Coltrane - soprano sax, tenor sax
Eric Dolphy - flute, alto sax
McCoy Tyner - piano
Reggie Workman - bass
Elvin Jones - drums

1961 in Baden-Baden Germany

The most stunning film I’ve seen in a long time is Sergio Leone’s “Once Upon a Time in the West.” Ennio Morricone provides mystic cowboy music for the score with haunting, unforgettable leitmotivs. Every shot in the film is one I would be proud to blow up and hang on my wall. Every shot has a fantastic sense of perspective, texture, and clutter. Yes, clutter. He jams stuff into every shot. It is really western baroque in its attention to detail — detail made up of little things, and shapes. The textures are breathtaking. Pause any frame in the film and you’ll see what I mean. (The representation on YouTube is a lower resolution than what you will see on the DVD.)

Many composers in the 20th century were driven to explore alternative sound sources. “Musique concrete” was such a music put together from bits and pieces of sounds: sounds made by familiar and ambiguous sources. The sound is then manipulated and can be played backwards or sped up or slowed down. This is all common practice nowadays, but then it was done by cutting up and splicing pieces of audio tape. French composers, Pierre Henry, and Pierre Schaeffer were the pioneers in this field. Here is Schaeffer’s first work in this genre, “Etude aux chemins de fer” (1948).

In “Once Upon a Time in the West” Ennio Morricone uses musique concrete to provide a chillingly original and effective film score.

Sounds are collected and looped In the opening scene, we hear a drip, and then something that is probably a bird. An unusual bird. But then it changes. We don’t find out what actually is making the sound until 5 minutes into the movie. (It is a squeaky windmill.) This use of sonic found objects from the scene of the shoot is an organic approach and highly effective. There are no pitches or melodies or harmonics in the opening of the film. (Morricone evidently wrote some but it was discarded.) We hear water dripping, insect buzzing, train sounds, bells, a mysterious choral chant, escaping steam, along with the mysterious bird call that opens and closes this amazing scene.

And then the first “music” enters — it is the harmonica leitmotiv.

We don’t find out what it means until the end of the film, and I won’t tell you, but this little tune is used continually throughout the film. The main orchestrational palette in the film is the harmonica, the solo banjo, and strings.

There is a love making scene that is accompanied by a solo viola that is not to be missed.

Morricone was Leone’s composer of choice. Contrary to tradition, Leone asked Morricone to compose the music FIRST, so that all the actors could get the feeling of the movie and reflect it in their work.

His controlled sense of patience in pacing is palpable. Everything unfolds and flows slowly. The music and sonic creatures drift in the air. No scherzo, no danse macabre, no moto perpetuo. It just hangs in the air, like gunsmoke in a bright New Mexican sky.

My biggest shortcoming as a composer is my disinterest in disseminating my music. It is not that I don’t think my music lacks qualtity — I think I’m one of the best composers on the planet today — but I find that my real interest is in composing music, not pedaling it to performers, or convincing publishers or record producers that they should put out my music. This blog represents the extent that I am willing to pedal my music to the world, and I don’t sell it, it’s there for people to take. I have a friend who is amazing at promoting her music. She attends every performance she has, no matter where it is, and is constantly rustling up the next commission. In fact, all this effort is paying off for her as she is getting more performances and commissions than ever before. But as far as I’m concerned, her music is only ok, not great, just ok.

I started a publishing company in 1994 that publishes much of my music and a hundred other composers, and my music sells reasonably well. I don’t make a lot of money from this venture, and what money I do make is put back into the company. I’m sure a smart business person would tell me to not waste my time on something so “unprofitable.” My role models, Aaron Copland, Serge Koussevitzky, and Gunther Schuller would advise otherwise.

I read a chapter on J.S. Bach in Paul Johnson’s book “Creators” that was an illuminating read. Bach was never rich. He never sought fame. His output was part of his faith, and ultimately, how he communicated with God. His contemporaries viewed him as a old-fashioned composer I know the feeling, though I don’t mean to ever elevate my music to the level of Bach’s. My music is also old-fashioned. I see the rising fame of Thomas Ades — a gifted new voice on the scene — but I have no interest in being modern, hip, or embrace a musical language that is not me. I tried that already and realized that there already IS an Elliott Carter, and already is a Pierre Boulez — I don’t need to copy or emulate or pass on their aesthetic as a composer.

In Johnson’s book, he reminds us that we have only some of Bach’s complete music available to us. Upon his death, Bach divided his manuscripts among his wife and his nine surviving children. Each of them went their own way and much of the music was lost forever.

I stopped copying my music by hand in the early 1980s, switching over to computers. However, there are many scores that were created using old, no longer available or working software, where the only copies of the pieces are print outs of those computer files. The originals are gone. (Remember Deluxe Music Construction Set? HB Engraver? Mosaic? Encore? Personal Composer?) My music since then has been copied using Finale or Sibelius software. How long will it be before those files are dead? Clearly, it is important, at least for posterity, for composers to print out on acid-free paper, final copies of their compositions, for possibly interested performers of the future — not for a composer’s glory from beyond the grave, but for the interest of performers who MAY be interested.

My cantata, “Hidden Legacies” touched thousands of lives in the early 1990s. Now, the work is a memory for those who sang and heard it, is out of print as a CD and as a score. But it was written for a particular topic and a particular time (the appearance of AIDS, “the gay cancer” as it was called at the time). That time and relevance is past, so the piece can die now. Add to this equation that the piece was written for synthesizers that no longer exists, nor the software for downloading the sounds into those now-dead instruments. I’ve come to grips with the death of that child, knowing it had its place, value, and use for many people. And knowing that it touched, and even changed lives, I am happy and honored to have been able to contribute something to the world, even if it had a short shelf-life.

I told some friends the other day that I really don’t want to be famous: I’d have to work too hard — I work too hard already, and to have to work even harder doesn’t seem attractive, regardless of the financial benefits or [relative] fame. I have had a blessed life as a composer. I have written works that have been heard and loved by many. People have loved performing my music and cursed me for not being able to get my tunes out of their heads. That’s enough fame and adulation for me.

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FAME

Fame is a bee
It has a song
It has a sting
Ah too, it has a wing.

Emily Dickinson

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[Photo by Jim Kelly: RB in front of poster for “Flashpoint/Stonewall” at Carnegie Hall — a moment of fame, three sold out performance in June 1994.]