pateceramics

Thanks so much, Henry! I know that parallel 5ths and octaves aren't harmonically exciting when one is looking for independence of line, but that wasn't what I wanted for this piece. I wanted a sense of rain-washed green hills with clear air above, dotted with sheep all saying their prayers to the land together like little nuns. So homophony made sense, and open harmonies, with the sopranos floating above like birds taking in the scene below. And since that could be a bit boring, particularly given the repetition in the text, some changes in rhythmic emphasis seemed wise. The tricky bit is remembering to read ahead so you actually do them, but thankfully, the conductor doesn't have too much to do, so they can free an arm to dictate triplets and other patterns if people are watching. Thank you for your thoughts and I'm glad you enjoyed it! -Maggie

That's what would make it fun for teachers to inflict it on their students. 🙂

Excellent! Needs to be given to beginning music students so they can learn to follow repeats. 🙂

The one thing that didn't quite work for me were the initial shifting rhythms in the piano in the opening bars. (Measures 5-7 in the right hand). It felt like the effect you were looking for was more like just a rit. and having everything written out into different triplets didn't quite give as smooth a change in tempo as perhaps you were trying to achieve? I really like this piece very much though! Sterling work! As neither a pianist nor a clarinet player, I can't speak to issues of playability. It seems like it would be a challenge to learn, but well worth the work! Very lovely!

I'm curious to know who made that comment. I can't really think of anything that you can't do these days, at least through manual adjustment. Maybe if you are doing really funky contemporary scores that deviate from standard sheet music styles, but that's not going to be a problem for most people. Then again, I'm not a publisher or a professor, and they are allowed to have a standard program that they prefer to receive files in to make their lives easier for marking up scores, editing, etc. Sometimes something is the standard just because at some point it was the most commonly used, and it's annoying to switch between different programs all the time which aren't compatible with each other, not because one is actually better. That said, I'm annoyed at Musescore every time they come out with an update and they move all the features around so I have to relearn where to find things.

Ah ha! That would explain it!

Thanks for the shout out, Henry. I actually record all the parts myself instead of using samples, which may be the difference. As an alto, I generally have the range to also record soprano and tenor parts. The lowest bass parts are too low for me, so I sing them up a few steps and use Garageband's "transpose" feature to shift them back down to where they are supposed to be. It sounds like I've been dropped down a well, but it works well enough.

Hi, guy, I suspect the problem is that an octave above middle C really is quite high for most tenors. Counter tenors can sing that, or higher, but they are an exceedingly rare voice type. The samples you bought may be giving you a more realistic idea of what you would get from a group of vocalists than your composition software. It's not that men who can sing that high don't exist. That is technically a range some tenors can sing in, but only a tiny number. Take a look at some standard choral repertoire and you can start to get an idea of the more commonly used parts of the range for different voice types. And remember that it is only in modern times that we have started using the "modern" tuning. Historic pieces look like they are written higher than they actually were, because the composers and singers were using a different tuning standard when they were written, and they are still performed down at that historically accurate tuning today.

I wrote this piece ten years ago, but have just made a new multitrack recording of the parts, so I thought I would share it here. Yes, you are correct. The bass line is being sung by an alto dropped down a well. (GarageBand makes it possible for me to sing all the parts, but I have to use the transpose feature to record the lowest bass notes, which creates a little distortion to the sound quality). The sheep is a genius of place; why would she stray? Here is the homeland. Here, her mother's house. Feed my sheep. Lead them home. Let them rest. Sisters, all among the hills, chanting their Daily Office: "There the rain licks into little pools. There, a dip to hide new lambs." "Take my coat," she said. "You are a guest."

I agree with Peter. This is a very pleasant little piece, strongly reminds me of Greensleeves, and some more contrast could be interesting to explore. If good music is always a balancing act between predictability, so the audience knows what notes to expect next and it all feels like it "goes together," and surprising twists, this piece is leaning more toward the former. (Which is fine, it's just a question of what you want to do). If you wanted to, one thing that tends to be characteristic of a development section is an unstable key. If a wide variety of accidentals start showing up in the middle of your piece, you're probably on the right track for upping the excitement. Try copy and pasting your main theme a few times and using your composition software to transpose it up or down and see if you hear anything that feels interesting. You could also try playing with the rhythms for more contrast. What does it sound like if you take the melody twice as slow so eighth notes become quarter notes, or longer? Is there a way to have one part doing that, while the other parts continue ticking along at your previously established pace? This is a very soothing and restful piece, so maybe you don't want to interrupt its flow, but if you did want to inject a little drama, that could be a way to do it. I like it!

Thanks for taking a listen, Henry! I actually made practice videos for each voice part (just the bass part louder, etc.) and put them on my YouTube channel linked to the original video, largely because of the rhythms at B. People will need to be able to drag their heads out of the score there so the conductor can help coordinate their stacked entrances, so the more confidently they know their parts, the better. I thought for a long time about whether or not the difficulty level of this piece meant it would be inaccessible to too many groups if I left it a cappella. Ultimately, I decided it was do-able if I provided some practice resources and a group can always decide to use the rehearsal piano part in concert if they are still shaky. I just finished a concert singing the Lauridsen "Lux Aeterna" which is a cappella in sections, ridiculously challenging even for good choirs, and frequently performed. If that piece can get away with some difficulty, hopefully this piece can too, although, of course Lauridsen already had a well-established reputation and was sought after before he published it. I never particularly mean to end up in modal land, but it seems to have a strong pull on my psyche. In traditional American music from Appalachia, modal tunings are often referred to as the "high lonesome" sound, and this is a lonely piece. I wonder if we would enjoy spending time with other creatures as much if they could speak with us? It may be the barrier to communication that provides some of the surprise and enjoyment when we do successfully connect with another species.

The undulating eighth motif in the upper notes of the right hand helps glue everything together. Very rich and atmospheric harmonies. It feels like rainy day piece. What were the updates that you made if you don't mind sharing? And it just occurred to me for the first time that your initials could also stand for "Left Hand" as abbreviated in a keyboard score to show the hands swapping position, and I feel like you should play with that to write your name all over a piece. 😄

I hope that if you make a pot of mashed potatoes you eat some and think, "gosh, that's a good mashed potato!" I hope if you clean the bathroom, you look around at the end of the task and think, "that's much better," and then enjoy your shower a little more and know that you have contributed to the comfort of your family or guests. I hope that when you have a project for work or school, you get to the end and look at it as a success. And I hope you can listen to your own music and feel proud of it. The heart of the problem is that we put the creative arts on too high a pedestal compared to our other tasks. That can create all sorts of problems that hinder our music-making. If writing a novel is the work of geniuses, then to attempt to write one as a mere human being is an act of narcissism. If painting is the reflection of the best of the human spirit, then as soon as we reach a certain level of self-awareness in childhood, we are no longer allowed to practice painting, because we aren't good yet, and without practice no one will ever get good enough to reach the standard that we hold artists up to. If we think composers are all inspired by some mysterious ineffable force, then we are not allowed to listen to our own work without complicated feelings of guilt if we think it went well, or shame for having the temerity to write and to share our work if we think it went poorly. None of this helps new art and music make their way into the world. On the other hand, we can look at music and other arts as things that all humans do. Our most ancient hominid ancestors made petroglyphs and cave paintings and pottery, toddlers sing little songs to themselves, college friends spontaneously decide what the choreography of dancing at a particular party looks like for their bodies, and you, writing a thank you note, may be pleased with the way that you choose the words to entertain and fully express your gratitude. Enjoy the process of creating and also the final product without getting wrapped up in yourself. Acknowledge that humans make things. All humans. You, and also everyone else you know. Cheer on your dad's photography projects. Eat the mashed potatoes. Play the piano piece you wrote. Know that none of these things mean anything at all about you or anyone else, other than that we are human, and humans are makers.

Thanks so much for taking a listen, Thatguy! Because we live right on a coyote trail in between a few patches of woods, we see them frequently, usually late at night or early in the morning when we are coming and going with the dog. They are absolutely amazing creatures. After the dramatic rescue of this one, I had to call the team for another one later in the year who had been hit by a car and was hunkered down, hiding in a pile of raked leaves on the sidewalk. She didn't make it unfortunately, but I'm glad they were able to get her to the vet and see what was possible. Yes, when I get a little time I'll sing all the parts. Most people prefer to hear things actually sung, but it's quick to make the midis, so I thought I'd go ahead and get this one out there instead of waiting until I have time to do some recording. If you want a good coyote book, (a bit about wolves too), I recommend "Coyote America" by Dan Flores. It's sort of a history of the United States told through the history of our interactions with coyotes. Coyote stories from various American tribes, the history of early colonization and the expansion of white settlers into the West, the founding of the national parks, a long discomfort with any sort of wildness near our farms, ranches, and homes, and then increasing urbanization and the times in which we live now. I'm always amazed by interactions with wildlife when you actually pay attention. Last summer my neighbor called me over in wonder and distress. She had been pulling Virginia Creeper vines in her yard and had accidentally uncovered a gray catbird nest that she hadn't known was there. She said the sound when she pulled the vine was a heart-wrenching shriek. A few days later, I was pruning the Devil's Darning Needle vine that I run up my porch railing, and one of the catbirds flew over and sat in it a foot from my face and stared me down, while its mate made stressed little chirps from the bush with the nest fifteen feet away in the neighbor's yard. I have never seen one even half that close before. It literally could have hopped onto my hand. It had just had a major family emergency involving a human pulling and trimming vines, and here was a different human, also trimming vines. Not vines that affected it personally, but it was willing to get VERY close to me to see what I was doing and express its worry about my actions. I mentally assured it that I wasn't going to go near its babies, and that neither would my neighbor if she had known they were there, and didn't breathe for a few minutes, and then quietly slipped back inside and let it have the yard to itself to calm down and consult with its family over the ordeal.

In January of last year, four wildlife rescue organizations coordinated to catch a sick half-grown coyote who had been finding refuge under my porch. Coyotes are a protected species in Massachusetts, so before attempting a rescue, they had to get permission from the state. The day that they finally received permission, he disappeared. The temperature dropped to the teens, and we watched the forecast with growing alarm, worried we had missed our chance and he had frozen to death in a hole in the woods somewhere. Finally he reappeared. I saw his feet go by under the porch, and texted the team. Within thirty minutes, six people arrived and made a whispered plan to surround the porch from all sides. Armed with old comforters and sheets of siding we ran in from three directions and blocked off his exits, while other volunteers grappled for him with a catch pole through a basement window. After several tense minutes, with only the sounds of his panicked breathing, the indoor team hauled him through the window and into my cellar, head first. Everyone agreed that if we hadn't gotten him that day, he wouldn't have made it. He was suffering from secondary rodenticide poisoning. At some point in his short life, he had already eaten enough poisoned field mice or rats to be dying of poisoning himself. He was hypothermic, dehydrated, his blood wouldn't clot, and with his immune system nearly non-existent he was almost hairless from an overgrowth in the mites, bacteria, and fungi that are normally a natural and balanced part of the skin biome. He was probably under my porch because there was a little warmth coming through the foundation, ignoring his instinct to avoid humans because he was so desperately cold. After three months of specialist care, he was healthy enough to be released to the wild again. Because coyotes are social animals, and frequently use common trails, it's very probable that members of his family passed by my house in the days after his capture and read the story in the scents on scuffed leaves and churned snow. Thanks to Newhouse Wildlife, Friends of Horn Pond, Cape Ann Wildlife, and Berkshire Wildlife for all their work to advocate for him, to catch him, and to heal him for a return to the woods of New England. Rage forest daughter; Stand and sing. He is everywhere, a scent on snow. He is the unforgiven air. He is the curled leaves. He is everything. He will come back changed. He will come back again. The lost child returns in spring, Traveling over dark water; Stand and mourn forest daughter.