Concert Music

MARCH OF THE WEST RIVER is the third in a series of pieces called Imagined Adventures; short, programmatic works based on childhood fantasies. This piece suggests the timeless childhood game of “Army” as played by rambunctious pre-adolescents on the streets and backyards of a typical suburban neighborhood called “West River Estates.” Although it contains martial, march-like elements, they are filtered through the energy and innocence of kids.

Not only are these adventures about childhood fantasies, but for me, they are also about composer fantasies. Writing these pieces allows me to play in a film music-inspired sandbox I might otherwise not get to do.

AUTOBONN is the second in a series of pieces called Imagined Adventures; short, programmatic works based on childhood fantasies. It is about the dream of taking off in a fast sports car, ramping up the energy with each gearshift.

This work was commissioned as part of the celebration of Beethoven’s 250th birthday in 2020. All of the motives were taken from the Presto movement of his String Quartet No. 14, Op. 131, in C-sharp minor. The quartet movement itself is a galloping race, which provided ample opportunity for orchestral adrenaline. The original opening cello arpeggio is treated as the roaring engine ignition in all of the low strings, bassoons, and timpani. Each successive section takes us through a different gear, with first gear being light in color and register, as our sports car is revving through high RPMs off the starting line. The second gear drops a bit lower as the engine resets for another build up, with the third gear dropping further, and then building up further still. Finally, we reach the last gear and a direct quote of the original string quartet, with the car beginning its last push towards top speed, all before winding down as the joyride comes to an end.

N.B. The composer apologizes for the title of this piece, fusing Autobahn, the famous German roadway, and Bonn, the town of Beethoven’s birth. The pun is indeed, regrettable, but necessary.

RUNNING ON ROOFTOPS is the first in a series of pieces called Imagined Adventures; short, programmatic works based on childhood fantasies. This fanfare is about the superhero fantasy of running, jumping, swinging, or flying across a city skyline.

It begins with rumbling, dreary, motoric “street-level” music, which lightens as our character spots a fire escape, and begins daydreaming about climbing to the roof to test out new imaginary super powers. As the piece progresses, there are occasional conflicts between the bright, sun-lit rooftop hero music, and the darker, shadowed, street-level music. Eventually, with new super powers well under foot, the final heroic version of the main theme emerges.

Not only is this piece about superhero fantasies, but for me, it is also about composer fantasies. Writing this piece allowed me to play in a film music-inspired sandbox that I might otherwise not get to do.

SIMPLE SARABANDE almost functions as a rondo, but with gradually expanding statements. Woodwind soloists introduce fragments of a melodic idea as an introduction, followed by a slightly more complete first statement. The statement is interrupted by a short bridge, which is followed by an even more complete statement. This same pattern continues throughout the movement, as thematic statements and interruptions continue to expand in telescopic fashion. The result is a slow, somber work that builds in its intensity until it collapses under its own weight.

The content of this work stems from my Concerto for Saxophone Quartet, Winds, and Percussion, and has been refashioned for orchestra as a standalone piece.

MOBILIS IN MOBILE: SCENES FROM 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA was commissioned by the Michigan State University Philharmonic Orchestra, in part, to expand the repertoire of the typical undergraduate-level orchestra. As part of this goal, I wanted to be sure these young players would get a chance to perform in ways often reserved for more difficult pieces. The classic Verne novel provided a rich program in which I could install a dramatic musical structure filled with an assortment of extended and aleatoric techniques that would be new to the musicians.

Of all the images remembered from the book and subsequent films, perhaps the most prominent is that of the villain, Captain Nemo, playing the ship’s pipe organ in a state of grim introspection. However, any such scenes are somewhat rare in the story itself. I scoured the novel, looking for any musical hints that could guide me, but only found a single mention of the music Nemo played. Professor Pierre Aronnax, the novel’s protagonist and narrator, describes Nemo’s performance, saying, “…he touched only the black keys, which gave his melodies an essentially Scotch character.” The idea that Nemo’s musical language was built on an anhemitonic pentatonic scale provided the perfect material to illustrate both his enigmatic character and ethnically ambiguous appearance. As the story is centered on him, his imprisonment of Aronnax and his companions, and their journey throughout the world’s oceans, using his theme and pentatonic sound world to form much of the work’s structure seemed logical. As such, the scenes set aboard the Nautilus are built upon an underlying cantus firmus of several long-stretched phrases of Nemo’s theme. Although sometimes played literally, the cantus firmus is often no more than an underlying force that is steering the harmonic motion of the work.

The piece opens with a musical wave of sorts, consisting of small, motivic droplets that grow in number and intensity while moving through various modes and transpositions of the pentatonic collection. This same wave idea returns throughout the work, separating one scene from the next, becoming more violent each time. The first scene is an energetic introduction of the professor’s theme (m. 38ff), with a rather French-sounding rhythmic pattern in its accompaniment, followed by the theme of Ned Land, a whaler who joins the professor as they hunt down the mysterious “creature” that has been plaguing the world’s oceans. Like any sea shanty, his material is sung lazily, represented by a solo trombone, with the strings and harp mimicking a guitar accompaniment (m. 56ff). After another, more intense wave, Nemo’s theme is introduced with much of the orchestra playing aleatoric techniques to give the impression of light refracting above a sea of corral (m. 92ff). The third scene is a string lament as Nemo buries one of his crew killed in a curious accident (m. 168ff). A fugal section based on his theme immediately follows this lament, as he enacts murderous revenge, showing his true colors (m. 211). Here, the winds are written and balanced in a manner to emulate a pipe organ, eventually blasting his full theme, while the strings represent the professor, horrified, as he watches the slaughter. This last scene is washed away by the final wave section, which slowly withers down to nothing.

SONG OF THE PHOENIX is a symphonic poem that is approached on two metaphoric fronts. One suggests the story of the phoenix bird itself. In the myth, the bird dies in a bright flash of fire, and is then reborn from the ashes it created. The other metaphor is one of urban renewal. Too often we see structures that are torn down in order to quickly build new, usually less interesting buildings in their place. Renovation and preservation have fallen too far down on the list of priorities when it comes to rebuilding our city skylines. My goal with this work is to remind listeners that renewal and renovation can go hand in hand. Buildings can be created from the materials and structures that were there before, adding a historical richness to their modern functionality.

RUNNING ON ROOFTOPS is the first in a series of pieces called Imagined Adventures; short, programmatic works based on childhood fantasies. This fanfare is about the superhero fantasy of running, jumping, swinging, or flying across a city skyline.

It begins with rumbling, dreary, motoric “street-level” music, which lightens as our character spots a fire escape, and begins daydreaming about climbing to the roof to test out new imaginary super powers. As the piece progresses, there are occasional conflicts between the bright, sun-lit rooftop hero music, and the darker, shadowed, street-level music. Eventually, with new super powers well under foot, the final heroic version of the main theme emerges.

Not only is this piece about superhero fantasies, but for me, it is also about composer fantasies. Writing this piece allowed me to play in a film music-inspired sandbox that I might otherwise not get to do.

The orchestral version of this piece was commissioned by The Florida Orchestra and the Dorothy F. Schmidt College of Arts and Letters in honor of TFO's 50th anniversary season. It was premiered by The Florida Orchestra and music director Michael Francis in November of 2017.

Performance note: the sixteenth-note rumblings in m.m. 1-16 and m.m. 66-98 are meant to create an intense, buzzing texture. This texture is more important than any individual notes. The conductor may determine it is not worth extensive rehearsal time to "clean" the lines of that texture, which is fine by me.

MARCH OF THE WEST RIVER is the third in a series of pieces called Imagined Adventures; short, programmatic works based on childhood fantasies. This piece suggests the timeless childhood game of “Army” as played by rambunctious pre-adolescents on the streets and backyards of a typical suburban neighborhood called “West River Estates.” Although it contains martial, march-like elements, they are filtered through the energy and innocence of kids.

Not only are these adventures about childhood fantasies, but for me, they are also about composer fantasies. Writing these pieces allows me to play in a film music-inspired sandbox I might otherwise not get to do.

SIMPLE SARABANDE functions as a rondo, but with gradually expanding statements. Soloists introduce fragments of a melodic idea as an introduction, followed by a slightly more complete first statement. The statement is interrupted by a short bridge, which is followed by an even more complete statement. This same pattern continues throughout the movement, as thematic statements and interruptions continue to expand in telescopic fashion. The result is a slow, somber work that builds in its intensity until it collapses under its own weight.

The content of this work stems from my Concerto for Saxophone Quartet, Winds, and Percussion, and has been refashioned for wind ensemble as a standalone piece.

RIVER OF GRASS is a soundscape for concert band, commissioned by a consortium of band programs local to the Everglades. The primary goal of this piece is to allow younger musicians to recreate sounds found in their backyard, including the clicking of sawgrass, the growling of alligators, the back and forth chatter of insects, and the trills of owls. These sounds are draped over several moods, from the dangerous to the serene.

SONG OF THE PHOENIX is a symphonic poem that is approached on two metaphoric fronts. One suggests the story of the phoenix bird itself. In the myth, the bird dies in a bright flash of fire, and is then reborn from the ashes it created. The other metaphor is one of urban renewal. Too often we see structures that are torn down in order to quickly build new, usually less interesting buildings in their place. Renovation and preservation have fallen too far down on the list of priorities when it comes to rebuilding our city skylines. My goal with this work is to remind listeners that renewal and renovation can go hand in hand. Buildings can be created from the materials and structures that were there before, adding a historical richness to their modern functionality.

Leonard Slatkin and the Detroit Symphony Orchestra read SONG OF THE PHOENIX (for orchestra) on January 30^th, 2010 at Orchestra Hall. Carlos Andrés Botero conducted the Michigan State University Symphony Orchestra in the premiere performance in March of that same year.

Transcription completed in July 2010.

FANFARE FOR WINDS, written in 2009, is based on ideas from my Brass Quintet No. 1, originally written for my friends in the Wayne State University Brass Quintet. Although the piece worked well, it was clear from the first rehearsal that the musical material would be well suited for a large ensemble. When an opportunity arose to work on another piece for wind symphony, I jumped at the chance to revisit my earlier work.

Lasting about two minutes, the fanfare opens with the trumpets, which are quickly imitated by the rest of the brass. The piece’s principal melody is then thrown across many different instrumental colors, gradually being turned backwards along the way. As soon as this transformation is complete, the piece leaps back into the opening trumpet idea, racing to the finish.

NEVERMORE is a tone poem that portrays Edgar Allan Poe’s famous work, The Raven.  The structure of the poem is mirrored in this work’s formal design.  The raven’s infamous response, “Nevermore,” serves as a refrain, responding to the questions of the main character.  This refrain is represented musically with a peculiar melodic idea that separates one episode from another.

The pitch material in this piece is generated from two sonorities: the augmented triad and the half-diminished seventh chord.  The refrain sections (rehearsal numbers 77, 209, and 283) are constructed out of a single augmented triad.  The symmetry of this chord allows each refrain to use the same pitches, while also allowing the harmonic motion to move into the new key of each subsequent episode.  Pairs of half-diminished chords, a whole-step apart, generate the pitches for each episodic tonal area: Eb minor, G minor, and B minor.

I chose to write Nevermore using this harmonic language as homage to Bernard Herrmann. This was not only out of fondness for his music, but because of the similarities between Poe and Herrmann’s frequent collaborator, Alfred Hitchcock. I would like to think that if Poe had been a film maker, Herrmann’s music would have been just as fitting his films as it was for Hitchcock’s.

CONCERTO FOR SAXOPHONE QUARTET, WINDS, AND PERCUSSION is a three-movement work based on a single melodic line. This line serves as the theme in the opening movement’s theme and variations, as the blueprint for developments in the second movement, and as a template for the harmonic language in the finale. Although there are moments of individual solos throughout the concerto, I have largely treated the saxophone quartet as a single, multi-timbral soloist, calling upon tight ensemble playing.

I. INVERTED VARIATIONS – The main idea of this movement is that the soloists and ensemble are heading in separate directions through a theme and variations. The ensemble begins with very fast, violent notes, while the soloists begin with slow, calm ones. As the variations progress, the soloists begin to play faster, and the ensemble begins to slow down. Eventually, both groups begin to synch up in similar rhythmic values, leading to the first real presentation of the theme. This leads to growing rhythmic tension, which erupts and breaks down as we approach the cadenza. The last few variations mirror the first few, but with the two groups growing farther apart rhythmically. By the end of the movement, both groups have switched places, with the saxophones playing very fast glissandi, and the ensemble playing very slow notes. 10:00

II. SIMPLE SARABANDE – This lyrical movement almost functions as a rondo, but with gradually expanding statements. The soloists introduce fragments of a melodic idea as an introduction, followed by a slightly more complete first statement. The statement is interrupted by a short bridge, which is followed by an even more complete statement. This same pattern continues throughout the movement, as thematic statements and interruptions continue to expand in telescopic fashion. 6:30

III. DANCING WATER – This movement is characterized by frequent, jumping entrances from the saxophones shaded with bright colors in the orchestra. Although not intended to be programmatic, these attacks by the saxophones reminded me of the smooth, choreographed laminar fountains often seen in public spaces. Throughout this movement, the soloists are constantly shifting the fluidity of their lines, sometimes by playing only two notes, others, playing dozens. By the end of this finale, the saxes have traced their way through the entire melodic theme that had been introduced in the first two movements. 7:30

TAVERN MUSIC is meant to emulate the sounds of a session in a local pub, with friendsand their fiddles surrounding a table sharing a pint. As in much of this musical tradition, players may often be playing the melody in unison, but providing their own, unique ornamentation. The ornamentation notated in this piece should be sufficient, but if players wish to add a little more for added authenticity, they may do so, especially in the first and last movements.

FINDING BREATH is about the process of meditation. It begins with tense layers of sound, each vying for our attention, much like the million thoughts running through our minds every day. After reaching a breaking point, the music starts to relax into a slowing, regular breathing pattern, illustrated by the ensemble’s crescendo (inhale) and diminuendo (exhale) pattern. This breathing unveils a simple, clear melodic idea as a result of the meditative, focused breathing.

DAYDREAMS THROUGH A CAR WINDOW is a set of variations meant to convey a few possible fantasies a child may have while staring out the window of a car. The simple nature of the theme provides an innocent quality to the opening and closing of the work. It also provides a great deal of contrast to the outlandish variations.

Introduction and Theme

Variation 1: Army Men

Variation 2: Monsters

Variation 3: Superheroes

Back to Reality

I. PRELUDE: CLOUDS GATHERING – This movement is the hint of an oncoming storm. Small gestures in the piano and a somewhat ominous melody in the violin are meant to alert that a storm is on the horizon, punctuated by the distant sound of thunder. 1:40

II. RAINDROP MONTUNO – Raindrops start to fall from the piano, at first sparse and random. Eventually these drops form a syncopated montuno rhythm. This creates a cascading accompaniment in the piano, with the violin singing the melody. Falling modulations signal that the rain is getting stronger. The piano moves to the bottom of its register to signal the first loud thunderclap nearby. 3:00

III. THUNDERCLAP BASSDROP – This movement uses various effects in the piano to mimic echoing thunderclaps, which double as dubstep-like bass drops at certain moments. The violin plays an ever-more frantic line, as the storm winds reach full strength. A loud thunderclap provides a final bass drop to end the movement. 3:00

IV. POSTLUDE: ORANGE SUNSET – Echoes of the piano from the prelude start this movement, as the storm clouds are clearing. The violin returns with the original melody that has been somewhat softened. Strummed piano strings and a ringing violin harmonic represent the last ray of sunlight peaking over the horizon. 1:30

FOREST BAGATELLES are a set of seven short movements for woodwind quintet representing various forest climates, composed in part, because of the wood-like qualities of the ensemble. The movements are tied together, not only by concept, but also through various degrees of serial composition. Each movement contains some or all of a chromatic set derived from Paul Hindemith’s “Hierarchical Relationship of Scale Degrees” (see below), which Hindemith thought to be representative of the natural tendencies of tones. One may argue whether it is or not, but it seemed appropriate to me for a piece whose theme is nature.

I. FOREST OF THE TIDE: MANGROVES – Mangrove forests create a barrier between land and sea, slowing erosion and filtering salt water. As such, life in a mangrove forest is brutal and unforgiving, as mangrove trees often brace against tides and tsunamis. 1:50

II. PANDO: THE TREMBLING GIANT – Pando is the name of the world’s largest, and possibly oldest, living organism. It is a forest of quaking (or trembling) aspen trees in Utah, which reproduce asexually, cloning themselves into a forest of a single, root-connected organism. They are called quaking aspens due to the crisp rattling sound their leaves make in the slightest breeze. 3:00

III. HUNTING SONG – This movement represents the temperate deciduous forests of North America and northern Europe. Here, the horn presents various hunting calls, as the rest of the ensemble accompanies in a manner representative of the changing seasons. 2:30

IV. BOSQUE NUBOSO: CLOUD FOREST – Cloud forests exist at high elevations, often near the equator. They are cool, but humid. Life is supported, not by water falling as rain, but as hovering mist that condenses on the foliage. 3:10

V. GIANT REDWOODS – Two things came to my mind upon writing this movement. The first was the scale and natural beauty of these giant trees, often referred to in poetry and literature as cathedral-like. The other was the speeder bike chase from Return of the Jedi. That infamous sequence was shot in the redwood forests of northern California, and is synonymous with that landscape. As such, this movement lightly quotes a musical cue from the film in the setting of an ethereal hymn. 2:30

When tasked with composing a work for two violas, two cellos, and two basses, my first thoughts were to the range of the ensemble. This is essentially an ensemble of low voices, after all. I sought to maximize this feature by creating a work focused on establishing a complex bass line groove one element at a time. GROOVE INCUBATION does just that.

The piece opens with several textural elements trying to establish a basic harmonic language. Eventually, the task moves toward discovering a simple pulse, then a basic meter, and so on, until the first element is solidified in the basses. The piece continues this process, adding layers one at a time, until it builds into a dense stacking of rhythmic ideas, complete with several percussive elements as a kind of trap set surrogate.

I chose the title ELEMENTAL DANCES, not because these pieces are themselves dances, but are instead built from, or, through their unfolding, generate the characteristic rhythms of each of the referenced dance forms. The first movement, TANGO, begins quietly as the different elements arrive one by one. Eventually, the familiar tango rhythm congeals and soon grows more elaborate as the movement ends with a mesh woven of restless rhythmic fragments. The second movement, TARANTELLA GROTTESCA is a study of the tarantella rhythm manifested at different speeds. Throughout the movement, the main rhythm is increasingly interrupted by other versions of itself: some faster, some slower. This leads to a canon on the tarantella theme, more interruptions, followed by a prolation canon, followed by even more interruptions still. As the movement alternates between these sections, it begins to speed up until it almost falls apart just before the end.

I composed PRELUDE AND PASSACAGLIA in collaboration with flutist Bryan Guarnuccio in the Spring of 2009. The idea behind the partnership, as well as the resulting piece, was to explore the various timbres and registers of the flute, while making it “fit well” under the fingers of the player.

The passacaglia theme is transformed through the traded variations into a new, longer, more lyrical melody carried by the flute (see Variations 16 and 17). It is this melody that provides the material for the prelude.

LILY-BY is a lullaby dedicated to my daughter, Liliana Rose Wilt, who is seven months old as of the completion of this piece. Her name and nickname (Lily), encoded into musical notes, make up the two halves of the main theme.

Unless specifically indicated, the damper pedal and una corda pedal should be used liberally to create a dream-like sound.

When in doubt, err on the side of slower rather than faster. Please do not wake the baby. Her parents are very tired.

This piece was written at the request of my colleague, Kuo-Pei Cheng-Lin, who premiered it on February 26, 2023.

The title SILVER NITRATE REVERIE is in reference to a chemical in old film stock, mostly pre-1950s. This piece is meant to be a reverie, or lost-in-thought daydream about our favorite movies. It is not meant to sound like any particular film score or to make us think of any particular movie, but rather convey the feeling of remembering our favorite movies, scenes, images, characters, and lines.

This work was premiered at the Boca Raton Museum of Art, amidst a 2022 exhibit of old Hollywood scenic backdrops, where I hope this exact kind of daydreaming is taking place by anyone who walks by.

INCANTARE puts the bassoonist in the role of shaman or sorcerer – a not uncommon role for bassoons – as they go through the different phases of casting an incantation. To start, the sorcerer delivers ceremonial words, preparing the scene for the spell. The incantation is delivered as a snaking, sinister melody, followed by an accelerating chant. With the spell in full effect, the bassoonist reaches an ecstatic cadenza, followed by a halo of after effects as the magic settles in place.

GHOSTS OF AEOLIAN HALL is a set of four miniatures for solo clarinet, each uniquely based on the famous opening clarinet excerpt from George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. The first movement is meant to convey the young clarinetist tuning the radio to hear the Paul Whiteman Palais Royal Orchestra broadcasting the Rhapsody. The second movement is the aspiring clarinetist alone in the practicing room, either day dreaming or noodling on the piano: both of which we are all guilty of. The third movement is the anxious clarinetist waiting backstage, feeling nervous and jittery until the tuning note is given at the last suspenseful moment. The final movement is our clarinetist, on stage, confidently beginning the piece with the famous trill and glissando (or at least an abstract look at the two).

These TEMPERAMENTAL ETUDES are a set of five etudes for solo piano, in which each is built around both a mood or scene, and a musical interval (in two of the etudes, the inversions are also present). The rules that govern these intervals are somewhat strict, in that the interval of each etude is the only one that appears vertically, at least in the individual hands. In addition, the melody tends to highlight the given interval of each etude, but is not regulated quite so strictly.

The five etudes are also connected motivically, most clearly by a gesture of ascending stepwise minor thirds, most frequently seen with the pitches C, Eb, D, and F. In this sense, these etudes also serve as a set of variations.

REBECCA MANCHESTER (female voice): A wealthy socialite and amateur opera singer. Becomes increasingly drunk and increasingly unstable over the course of the piece.

THE BUTLER (non-singing actor): The epitome of stoicism, unfailingly loyal to his mistress.

This work was written for mezzo-soprano Megan Ihnen, to whom the work is also dedicated

UNSUNG ODE is meant to honor the work and dedication of music teachers. Caitlin and I wanted to bring the listener into the routine of the studio music teacher, trudging through excuses, difficult parents, and the same scales and warm-ups year after year. We also wanted the audience to understand the pains and triumphs that teachers share with their students, and how deeply music teachers are invested.

The piece is structured in three episodes, each a recreation of a different music lesson between teacher (vocalist) and student (alto saxophone). After a pompous introduction, the vocalist-as-music teacher sighs, and begins to recount the routine of scales and hand positions, followed by a sample lesson of the student comically disappointing her. The last element of each episode is the teacher reflecting on whether she has done enough to nurture the student’s creative spark. The piece ends with the largest reflection yet, with the teacher seeing the student move on to the next phase of their life, hoping they made a difference in their student’s love of music.

MODERN MUSE marks my second collaboration with poet Caitlin Vincent, who sent me these wonderful poems shortly after our first. Although these songs have a wide emotional range, they are cabaret songs that never take themselves too seriously, which made them fun to write.

The songs tell familiar tales of women from ancient Greek mythology, but from a fun, colorful, and contemporary angle. As was traditional in the music from ancient Greece, the lyre would accompany the singer heterophonically, doubling the same music underneath the voice, with a little bit of variation. I have hinted at this same relationship between singer and string accompaniment, especially in the first and last songs, before venturing into different textures.

The Gift to Sing

Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,
And blackening clouds about me cling;
But, oh, I have a magic way
To turn the gloom to cheerful day—
I softly sing.

And if the way grows darker still,
Shadowed by Sorrow’s somber wing,
With glad defiance in my throat,
I pierce the darkness with a note,
And sing, and sing.

I brood not over the broken past,
Nor dread whatever time may bring;
No nights are dark, no days are long,
While in my heart there swells a song,
And I can sing.

• James Weldon Johnson, from Fifty Years & Other Poems

That they describe the act of singing as a tool to get through troubled times, these words seemed like the ultimate thank you note to honor a retiring music teacher, Laura Laflamme.

I treated the refrains as a representation of the joy Laura brought to generations of students, each spreading further than the last, through escalating repetition and expanding texture.
The final, unaccompanied statement is a reassuring declaration that these students are better prepared for life’s challenges, thanks to this dedicated teacher.

When I was asked to write (A)ROUND FLORIDA, my instructions were to start with the concept of the “Geographical Fugue” by Ernst Toch, and make it more, shall we say, local. I also knew this piece would be premiered on a summer gala concert that was lighter in tone, and downright silly at moments, so that provided the freedom to musically goof around.

The sketching process of this piece was actually quite simple. I made a list of regions, cities, locales, and land marks, all from the state of Florida, that I thought were either fun to say or had interesting rhythmic implications. I assigned, or really transcribed, an appropriate rhythm for each word or phrase, and set about composing the rhythms in a fun and imitative way.

The only time I was concerned with logic was with the very last words, closing the piece on “Boca Raton”. I knew the piece would be premiered in Boca Raton, but I also made this choice out of a sense of ownership. In South Florida, the last syllable of this city is pronounced ruh-TOHN, where in other parts of the country, it is pronounced ruh-TAHN. By ending the piece on a rhythmically emphatic beat, I, in a sense, made official my adoption of Boca Raton as my home by proving I know how to say it correctly.

PEACE was written for the occasion of Peace Presbyterian Church and the Presbyterian Church of Utica forming to become New Life Presbyterian Church. The text is from a poem of the same name by Sara Teasdale.

This work was commissioned for the 2010 Good Friday Fraser-Area Ecumenical Service, hosted by Peace Presbyterian Church, with the composer at the piano.
Special thanks to each of the participating church communities and their choir directors:

Marcia Gagnon, Cross Lutheran Church
Jim McCaffrey, Hope United Church of Christ
Barbara Robinson, St. Michaels Catholic Community
Jan Schenk, Christ United Methodist Church
Gary Sylvester, St. Ronald’s Catholic Community