ALL THERE IS IS LOVE (1993)
Music: Roger Bourland
Words: Paul Monette
Performers: Phil Hettema, speaker; Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles, Jon Bailey, conductor.
Publisher: Yelton Rhodes Music (Los Angeles)

Paul Monette gave me permission to set an excerpt of the introduction to his collection of early poems LOVE SONGS FOR ROG, recited here by Phil Hettema. Paul and I wrote this piece as a kind of thank you note for the Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles’ powerful performances of HIDDEN LEGACIES.

An inspiration to us all. Imagine trying to live someplace this small. I don’t think it would work for families, especially one with small kids who need a certain amount of space to expend their energy. But still, for single people who don’t have or want a lot of stuff, or a retired couple who wants to keep their expenses down, this seems like an excellent trend.

As the son who was gay and didn’t have kids to raise, I’m making some of my familial contributions by tending to our family tree. It’s not that I’m desperate to make new friends or make contact with lost relatives, I just find it a satisfying hobby.

As in my previous post, I’ve assembled a photo album put together by Lavon McDonald in 1928-29. Her parents, seen early on in the photo montage, died somehow, and my benevolent great-grandfather, Charles E Rhodes, adopted her.

These photos go through her parents, her friends, and then her new family, the Rhodes and Arnolds. Marion Rhodes and Nancy Arnold marry in the course of this set and produce their only child, my mother, Jo Ann Bourland. The other hero in my life is JoAnn’s grandfather, Charles E Rhodes. Lavon has collected all of her photos and put them in one book during two probably golden years: 1928 – 1929. The pictures here are largely of my relatives and their friends and neighbors from northern Kentucky, east and northeast of Lexington.

[One question I still have is: Who is Carolyn? In Marion's arms. My notes say Rhodes. From which Rhodes?]

One of my four Great-Grandfathers was Ernest Bobbitt Bourland (1875-1949). E.B. was a minister from various cities around Lexington, Kentucky. He and his wife had one child: my father’s father.

My parents recently gave me this book and I decided to scan it and make it available. The music is from my FOUR PAINTERS: Thomas Hart Benton (2001) for piano quartet by Roger Bourland (me).

Like Stravinsky, every few years or so, I re-fall in love with (original member of The Byrds) Gene Clark’s music. I’m sure part of it was growing up in the 1960s and the memories associated with those years. But Gene’s gritty and intense songs and performances are emblazoned in my mind forever. Indulge me a brief flashback.

Gene Clark was one of my childhood heroes. He wrote and sang many of the Byrds early songs. Michael Stipe would never have been Michael Stipe had Gene Clark never had been Gene Clark.

Here is a Gene Clark sampler. Let’s start with the New Christy Minstrels, a very popular folk ensemble, still around today, but was a hotbed for many young artists in the early 1960s: Jackie and Gayle; Barry McGuire; The Association, and my (late) hero, Gene Clark. Here you’ll hear Gene sing the second verse, the lyrics begin with “…Step by step he traveled on…” The song is called “Follow the Drinking Gourd.”

I’ll never forget hearing this one for the first time. I was in the barber’s chair and I got insane goose bumps. The barber asked my what was going on. I told him it was the music’s fault. This performance is a live one I’d never heard that will be fun to share here as I assume most of you have heard the original version.

(Turn your speakers DOWN for this one, as it’s a hot recording.) And then Gene penned one of my fave tweens song “Feel a Whole Lot Better.” Here you’ll see Roger McGuinn in the granny glasses, David Crosby on rhythm guitar, Chris Hillman on bass, and Mike Clark on drums–none of them actually playing. Check out Gene’s Prince Valiant haircut.

And then he left the Byrds because of his fear of flying (sic) and put out his first solo album Gene Clark. One of my faves from the album was “Tried So Hard.” (This is NOT the recording on the album. It appears not to be available on YouTube at this time. It is close enough to the original to hear how it goes.)

And then the late-Clark masterpiece, “Spanish Guitar.”

In his stint with Doug Dillard, Dillard and Clark put out their cover of Lennon’s “Don’t Let Me Down.”

There was something missing in my life: I realized it was TOUCH. No, not being touched, the electro-acoustic piece by Morton Subotnick from the 1970s.

I remember first moving to Boston in 1976 to attend the New England Conservatory of Music. First I lived in Malden, but that was SO boring, I eventually found a dive on Westland Ave for $75 a week. The day I moved in, a woman with her front teeth missing sitting on the steps next door, who I was later to learn was called “Blow Job,” asked me whether I wanted one for $5. My cheeks turned red and I said NO, but thank you for asking–being the polite midwestern boy my parents had raised me to be.

Several months later, I became engaged in late night music war with some dude who decided to play disco at full blast at two in the morning while he screamed at his woman. He was on a Donna Summer’s Greatest Hits thing. I decided I would try to come back at him with Pierrot Lunaire. It just didn’t have the power that a disco groove does. I came back with Subotnick’s TOUCH. It took a while to get going, but once it kicked in, it kicked ass! I was so proud and so cool, dueling with some pimp screaming at his–well, all of a sudden, the music turned down. I heard a very angry black woman tell of the dude playing the music. Whoa! I turned Morton down, and called it a draw.

I couldn’t find a YouTube clip for this music, so you should do your homework to see whether you can buy it. And if not, go here and download it yourself.

This summer, composing four songs for Vladimir will be my joy and honor.

This week, friend, colleague, and expert in the Alexander Technique, Jean-Louis Rodrigue, visited our class to give an overview of that discipline. In the course of his overview he talked about musicians needing to come to grips with the fact that their art unfolds over time, and that we must give ourselves permission to enjoy and not rush that time.

He said to the class: “I want everyone to say ‘I HAVE TIME.’” The class obeyed.

“Again! I HAVE TIME.”

I found the notion cathartic. So often I am stressed about going to the bank or the post office or the dry cleaners and worrying about the time it takes. Or even going to concerts, thinking I’d rather be elsewhere.

No.
Stop.

I need to say to myself I HAVE TIME. And ultimately, I need to say that about everything in my life. Take the time to enjoy life. Give yourself permission to take the time, because most of the time, we really DO have the time.

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.