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inspiring reads
Often I post the latest gig or recording I’m scheming, but perhaps it’s time for an expansion of perspective. I subscribe to about 100 blogs and so far this past week I have come across a few remarkable paragraphs that are worth sharing:
Here is composer Eric Whitacre’s post on composition competitions and losing:
As a composer you are going to get turned down a lot, by conductors, by music publishers, by critics; it’s all just part of the gig. Entering competitions and not winning is a great way to get used to the lifestyle, the drive to just keep writing, forging ahead. For me, it’s been a way to develop an ‘inner-compass’, a sort of quiet confidence that it doesn’t really matter if I win or lose; the work alone is it’s own reward.
If you are unfamiliar with Eric’s work, particularly his Choral pieces – I highly recommend. Truly gorgeous, beautiful writing. I’ve been following him for quite awhile now. I was particularly stunned when he said he never won an ASCAP Young Composers Award… I thought everybody gets those things! He goes on:
But here’s the thing: I’m glad I’ve never won. It makes me feel like an outsider, makes me feel misunderstood, keeps me hungry, all the things that are essential tools for being a composer. You’ll be better for losing, because in your heart you’ll know you should have won, and the injustice will help drive you forward.
That’s an important point to remember: it is injustice. Composition competitions are hopelessly biased. The juries do their best, but they are just human beings looking at a lot of scores, all through their own personal opinion of what constitutes a ‘good’ piece. (Years after a student competition at Juilliard I was told by a jury member that they had rejected the score to my string transcription of Water Night – without even listening to the recording – because it looked too ’simple’ to be a sophisticated piece. I remember thinking, “but the simplicity is the whole frickin’ point!”).
Over here, Roger Bourland writes about leaving behind the comforts of academia:
I love being a composer and what it has afforded me in this life and this world. I have loved the time spent composing it, playing it in progress for my close friends, and most especially, having premieres of new pieces. I went into this profession knowing I would not ever be “famous” like the Beethoven club, and have accepted that.
It shouldn’t be relevant to anyone as to whether what you’ve done in our life lasts beyond your lifetime. You’ll be dead, or at least, not here. Your music is important here and now, and that’s enough.
