So how is the opera thing going? Not bad. Not bad. Glad you asked. Actually, the thing fairly well writes itself. It’s an odd thing, but it’s clear I wanted to write something about Detroit; that Detroit is the big catalyst of my entire life, since I got here. The real issues are always two:
- Is it turning into just a series of songs?
- Why the fuck didn’t I pay more attention in orchestration class?
The first issue doesn’t concern me now so much. I’ve moved along far enough where basically everything is developing out of the same four themes I’ve presented in the teaser medley. In fact, the worry now is that there is too much ‘unity’—that the end will seem like 400 variations on the same four ditties. Beethoven may have been able to take four notes and turn ’em into an hour of interesting ‘organic development’. But hey, he was Beethoven. (Which begs the question: would he have still been Beethoven if his name had been ‘Floyd’? Just asking.)
The second one is a big worry. So much of what I do is contrived against the laws of nature and acoustics. When one writes for electric and electronic instruments one never worries about things like ‘volume’. If you need that one flutey sound to compete with seventy six trombones? No problem! Just turn up the volume. To eleven, of course. Good composers instinctively combine instruments not just to create interesting effects and set a variety of moods. They also are constantly aware of the weight of each instrument in relation to it’s fellows. This is not my forté (no pun intended.) I constantly struggle with making sure that the instruments I choose will have a proper balance; not just with one another, but also when playing behind one or more singers. I’ll have more to say on this in the weeks to come (don’t I always?)
I get a lot of comments about ‘my little opera’. Or rather, I should say I get a lot of odd looks when I deign to broach the subject that I am writing an opera. Besides the usual unspoken adjectives that go along with this endeavour (narcissistic, grandiose are two typical diagnoses) the eight hundred pound fat lady in the room (I can so laugh at myself about this) is why on earth one would want to do this.
I thought a lot about this as I the idea took shape—or rather the desire took shape to write Detroit. I spent a lot of evenings fighting with myself over the stupidity of the whole thing. After all, as I’ve written, I myself think of opera as an art form that belongs in the archives. What really put me at peace with the piece was the realisation that not only did this not matter to me, but in fact, that it may even be a plus. Because pretty much everything which feels good to me these days belongs behind a velvet rope.
And in the wee hours I had that epiphany: I don’t think there is any going back. I think that all serious music (and by that I mean music that is meant to be listened to as a sole activity and not in conjunction with dancing, driving, doing housework, relaxation, exercise, fucking or any other ‘purpose’ besides concentrating on the music) has become a museum piece.
People will still do it (ie. make it.) Just like millions of people still go to museums. But most people don’t go to museums regularly anymore. They do it once in a great while to ‘broaden their minds’. That’s where serious music is going. At least during my life time. And by ‘serious’ I don’t mean Bach or Stravinsky. I mean anything from Weather Report to Duke Ellington to Charlie Parker to real calypso or Cachao or Irish tradisiunta like Altan or Clannad.
No one wants to go to a club and hear music that requires concentration. It’s a dance happy world. Jazz clubs? A totally dying breed, mate. Most guys who’ve made it can’t wait to play concert halls; not just for the increased paychecks, but because you get to set the agenda. You get to control the show. You get to that vaunted place we all aspire to: you get to put on a fuckin’ concert.
So I just took out the middle step and started out with concert music. You can do that when you get to be my age.
As I said, I don’t think there’s any going back to the kind of shows I (we?) grew up on. I honestly don’t think any band like Yes or Return To Forever or even The Eagles will be possible again. The technology has changed. People have changed. To attain that drawing power will require, at the very least, many dancers.
But a certain ‘class’ of people will always want to see good music. But be they young or old, they won’t want to have to fight the concession stands; they’ll just go to a museum show and watch Glenn Frey or Keith Emerson. Or their grandsons. All that has to happen is that people have to embrace the fact that music one listens to should be listened to in a concert hall. At a museum. And leave the people who want to see a ‘show’ to the stadia and clubs.
