When I first came to UCLA, many of my colleagues referred to this chap as “Jamie”–a nickname he now supposedly loathes. He did his Masters work at UCLA, was a TA, a classmate of Mark Carlson, and was on the way towards getting a PhD, but the Roger Corman films started coming fast and furious. Juliana was an undergrad with him at USC. My dear friend and patron, Ronnie–who lets me stay in her Palm Springs house to compose and goes with me to new music concerts in LA–is his cousin. And despite all these connections, I had never met James until last Thursday when he came to speak to our composers about his work on Avatar.

He was soft-spoken at first, and as the two hour session went on, he became more forceful and clearly enjoyed talking and teaching these young and eager students–also his biggest fans. Many of them stayed afterwords to have their picture taken with James. He graciously stayed late to pose and speak with them.

Some memorable quotes and paraphrases:

• He has tremendous respect for John Williams. “In a class by himself.”
• Cameron was clear that he did NOT want any themes or melodies. “A tuneless score.” [WOW!]
• JC kept a tight hold on the reins for the entire score.
• JH graciously acceded that it is JC’s vision, his movie, his world. He pushes until it’s right.
• He spoke about his collaboration with Wanda in their effort to find a sonic palette “unlike anything we’ve ever heard.” Of the 25 instruments he culled, JC rejected 20 of them. JH ultimately blended these sampled instruments into his orchestration.
• He seemed proud of that his orchestration, “which I do myself” is rooted in tradition, but adding these new [sampled/world] instruments transforms it.
• JH, when asked what his favorite score was, admitted that he couldn’t pinpoint one film, rather cues from a variety of films.
• Juliana asked whether he would ever write an opera; he said ‘no’ but he would LOVE to write a ballet.
• “I could never make people cry in my concert music. In my music for film, I can. [...] I loved having the opportunity [in TITANIC] to help the audience fall in love with two characters; and knowing that they will both die offered me a unique musical challenge.”

I found James to be a true gentleman; a smart businessman; an excellent teacher; an sensitive artist with a big heart; and a composer who loves the art of collaboration, despite not always getting his way.

When the composition area at UCLA interviews perspective undergraduate students in composition, one of the questions we ask them is “Who are your favorite composers?” James Horner has been at the top of that list for five years running. I confessed that statistic to Horner as the session wound down. He was clearly touched. Another student [winner of this year's Jerry Goldsmith Award] confessed that James was his childhood “hero.”

For someone who had been described as quiet, shy and private, I saw a gracious, generous, sensitive but outgoing and humble man. He promises to come back for a future visit.

I loved Glass’ work in Koyaanisqatsi. Music is foreground; hand in glove with the imagery. Some of his other film scores seemed, to me, heavy handed: imposing themselves on the scenes rather than providing underscore.

Philip Glass’ score for THE ILLUSIONIST is his best yet. The harmonies are fresh; the melodies are new; the textures are new; he tailors his cues beautifully to the scenes, rather then the torn-off abrupt ending the minimalists have tended to favor; there are a wide range of dynamics (he used to favor terraced dynamics, mostly loud).

The cinematography is continually breathtaking; stellar performances by Edward Norton, Rufus Sewell and Paul Giamatti, and Glass’ score rounds it out. The music doesn’t really sound “minimalist”– if anything, it sounds “classical”––”serious”––continually effective.

Glass’ reward for providing such tasty underscore, is that he gets to let loose in the end credits, a cue called “Life in the mountains.” Here is that cue: lovely, don’t you think? A long way from Music in 5ths.

I remember when Frederic Rzewski came to visit us at Harvard in the composition seminar. I remember when Musica Electronica Viva came and performed at UW Madison. “The People United…” is emblazoned into my brain. I have the LP and he played it for us in the seminar. He reminded me that one shouldn’t ask questions about anything over 10 years ago as he doesn’t remember — which turned out NOT to be true, as he remembered plenty of amusing stories from his past.

Today he came to UCLA for a visit with our student composers. I was delighted to see a good turnout. FR was in great form. Cantankerous, funny, and blatantly honest about the various questions. Gloria Cheng served as the interviewer and did an excellent job. He doesn’t believe in styles (”some have them, some don’t”), there are no commonly accepted master composers in America, most young people are mostly concerned with money (”we thought our music could save the world, we were wrong, but at least we believed in something”), and (and I agree), the 20th century was filled with technique-isms — methods not unlike machines for cranking out music. “Life is not symmetrical, logical, or necessarily always pretty. Music should imitate this.” Someone asked whether he knew a technique (sic) for freeing the mind of such machines: “Shut the door? Turn off the phone? Light some cannabis? Everyone has their own method.”

The most shocking story of the day was the history of his famous “The People United will Never Be Defeated.” Before he wrote the piece, he asked the composer of the tune itself, Sergio Ortega, whether he could use the tune in his piece, to which Ortega responded “of course.” The problem was: it wasn’t in writing. Ortega died of cancer in 2003. Ortega’s publisher refused to give Rzewski permission, so they now own Rzewski’s piece. Curious, maddening, but unfortunately, true. [Moral of story: don't use or quote music under copyright without permission.]

[Photo of Rzewski (L) and Bourland (R). Bourland doing HIS best to also look cantankerous.]

My primary flaw as a composer of late, is that I have lost interest in aggressively promoting my work (other than this blog). As Beethoven allegedly said: “I refuse to bow to Napoleon; he must come to me.” I teach my students that this NEVER happens, so who am I kidding?

I LOVE composing, and am in ecstasy over performances; and then I move on to the next piece.

I have a colleague who is very good about self-promotion: sends out scores, goes to lots of concerts, goes to premieres of his colleagues, goes to every new music concert in town, goes to HIS concerts anytime he has a performance, regardless of where it is, and he’s always giving out CDs of his music to everyone. No wonder his career is going like gangbusters.

I confessed this to RC a few weeks back: he called me on it and said that there was no excuse for not getting off my lazy white ass and sending him scores and CDs ASAP. “No, I’m not going to listen to your music on my computer. I have a 10 year old Dell laptop and no one would ever want to listen to anything on that.” I agreed.

I’ve gone back to the print shop and got copies of my scores. Wow. I haven’t done that in a while. I burned a pile of CDs — one piece per disc. I bought a printer a few years back, dedicated to making pretty CDs. It dried up in neglect. I just used a thick pen and wrote the title and my name on each disc.

Self-promotion is part of a composer’s responsibility whether we like it or not. Some get lucky and get representation. Others gotta do it themselves. Thanks to RC’s butt-kickin’ my momentum for such efforts has been set in motion again. Musicians have to keep finding their next gig for their whole lives. And that’s just how it goes!

It was the quarterly visit from Matias and Jenny, with baby Katie (18 months) this weekend. As I’ve said before, having visitors in your home makes it feel like a vacation. The energy was dominated by Katie, who is now running and learning words at an amazing rate. Daniel, her godfather, was called “Tito Dan” (Tagalog for Uncle Dan) and that seems to have given away to “Daniel” pronounced quite well. And my name is now Rajhzi, as RoJER seems too tricky to say now. She chases the dogs — they tolerate it and growl from time to time, but nothing more. The entire house becomes Katie’s playpen, which is fun, although the silence of this morning is deafening, now that they have returned to Sunnyvale.

Lynn Harrell, photo by Christian Steiner

You’ve already read about part of the weekend (see “The New Couch”) and the remainder was also entertaining. Daniel and I were invited to Dale and Don’s for lunch on Sunday. I got to meet Lynn Harrell for the first time and his wife, Helen. Lynn is a real sweetheart and a true gentleman. We chatted about where he had been teaching for the past 15 years and confessed to missing it. We also are both in intergenerational relationships, and we couldn’t help but share stories about that. Rachael Worby was there too and it was fun to catch up with her.

Although full from the lunch, we had an early reservation at Mozza with M&J. On the way in I nearly knocked over Elvis Costello. Sitting across from me there was Lisa Loeb. We were surrounded by all kinds of celebrities, most of whom I could not recognize, but then the Grammys had just gotten out, so such is LA life.

Today I go in and talk about 3rd species counterpoint, visit with some students, and tonight go to the Green Umbrella series to hear two old/new warhorses– “Eight Songs for Mad King” and “Pierrot Lunaire” with my concert pal, Ronnie Rubin.

More rain headed towards SoCal and that’s a good thing.

A new commission is in the works where I’ll be composing a new piece for Vladimir Chernov. What a joy!!

While I go feed my dogs and birds and brush my teeth, here is a gem from Lynn, the Faure Elegie, Op.24.

Photo credit: Christian Steiner

A lovely performance of some gorgeous guitar arrangements by Notis Mavroudis of songs by my old friend Manos Hadjidakis.

Artist: Kostas Grigoreas
Album: The Guitar Notebook
Composer: Manos Hadjidakis

I was greatly saddened to see the passing of Kate McGarrigle, mother of Rufus and Martha Wainwright and sister of Anna and Jane. I thought her cancer was in remission but evidently it returned. She touched many lives and helped shape the aesthetic of one of the great songwriters on the planet, Rufus Wainwright.

Like many Americans, “Heart Like a Wheel” sung by Linda Ronstadt was our first introduction to this great talent. A big heart she had. She will be sorely missed, and I am sorry for her family’s loss.

And a recent and final performance of her lovely “Tell Me of Mendocino” — funny banter between Rufus and Kate at the beginning. Touching harmony.

And her final composition and a touching performance of the December 2009 Royal Albert Hall performance of “Proserpina.”

The LA Times reported that the family stood around her bed singing as she died.

J & M ignored my Scrooge attitude about Christmas and gifted me the complete set of remixed and remastered Beatles in stereo. Daniel got the flash drive version.

I opened each beautifully-made fold-out CD, ripped it onto my computer and watched the little 3-5 minute video that comes with each disc.

The music sounds terrific. Better than ever. I’ll be writing about some reflections on the experience of getting through the set in later posts. But I have to confess something upfront: this is music I grew up with, so it’s a bit odd that the music I was listening to as a kid is still so hugely popular today.

I remember dancing “continental style” with Lisa Mattick to “Yesterday” in 5th grade. I remember her warm cheek against mine. I remember her dress. I remember the sweet crackle of the sound of my old 45 of that song. I remember playing that opening F major chord on the guitar and how it kinda hurts playing a bar chord on the 1st fret. I remember every appearance on Ed Sullivan. I kept, and still have, a scrapbook of Beatles clippings. I did my early “ear training” by sitting with my guitar in front of the record player, playing passages over and over until I figured it out on the guitar. Then I did the same thing for their piano songs. I learned all this music as it came out, and played it with my friends, especially Todd Buffa and John DeVillers. I remember the day “We Can Work it Out” came out and how happy I felt. And the hot psychedelic radio premiere of “Day in the Life” — wow we had never heard anything like it.

So all these memories are like a strange haze that hangs over the music.

Over the holiday I watched two movies, twice: Avatar, and Sherlock Holmes. Like Howard Shore in the Lord of the RIngs trilogy, Mr Horner’s score for Avatar is wall-to-wall music, and, for my money, effective and not memorable. Throwing in a song over the end credits didn’t matter as most of us were racing to the restrooms after sitting for three action-packed hours. My students all remember the Lord of the Rings music, but even after 3 viewings, it just never stuck for me. (Horner and Shore are, of course, terrific film composers, no trashing intended. Both know how to write sticky melodies.)

Hans Zimmer’s score for Sherlock Holmes was terrific. A small ensemble that features a banjo (huh?? in 19th century England??), a hammered dulcimer and a few other instruments. Only occasionally do we hear a full orchestra. Zimmer has fun with this score. He doesn’t try too hard, the score sounds relaxed, effortless, and memorable.

It made me think of scores where composers try too hard, drawing too much attention to themselves and their “goddam counterpoint” as Lionel Newman used to say. Horner’s score was effective and unmemorable; Zimmer’s was effective and memorable. I am in the school that favors memorable tunes in films, so that the audience walks away with not only a theatrical experience, but a new tune or two as well.