"Revue" Cantata: Personal Preliminaries

Of the six poems comprising Wallace Stevens' "Revue" published in the July 1922 edition of The Dial, it appears that only one poem, "Bantams in the Pine-Woods," has an author-read recording (two different recordings, actually) on PennSound.  Fortunately, there are enough author-read recordings of Stevens' other work to get his metrical tendencies while he read his work aloud.  This is helpful, because getting these metrical tendencies from the page won't be enough.  If you give two poets the same poem and ask each to read it aloud, you'll get two often very different metrical interpretations.  The differences in metrical interpretations especially seem to occur in interpretations of the temporal length of the pauses, both inside the line and in between the lines.  It's not that I think that we will necessarily marry ourselves to Wallace's read-aloud metrical tendencies, it's just that some kind of fidelity through familiarity seems in order.

Buder Branch had the Literary Lives for Stevens.  I checked it out today and I'm about a third of the way through it.

In a box somewhere in the basement is a dog-eared copy of The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens.  I'll dig around for it tomorrow.

This won't be anywhere near as physically, logistically or technically demanding as scoring and accompanying a 100-minute feature film.  This kind of thing is very new for us, so it'll be creatively demanding.  I hope that I can get my part of it right.

The premiere will be Thursday, September 13th at the Pulitzer.

My plan is to keep an online diary of sorts about how it's coming along with regard to my part of it here on the ol' blog.

'Til next time ...

06-09-12

When I went to the 7-11 this afternoon for a Big Gulp and cigarettes, a woman whose hair and build reminded me of you was pumping gas.  I wonder whether you're ever, say, at the grocery store and there is a man scanning the canned vegetable aisle, and his hair, his build, the way that he stands, or walks or something like that about the man reminds you of me.  Maybe that happens on occasion.

05-20-12

Cloud cover uncooperative for photographing tonight's eclipse.  Very late last night in the back yard I looked up and saw a meteor flash through a small patch of the sky.  I cannot share the meteor.  It will always be only mine. 

05-03-12

To what extent Kanye West and Chris Milk were in dialogue with Jesse Thorn with the "Touch the Sky" video; to what extent the New Sincerity is a Bourdieuian field of play; to what extent the rules of the game are malleable; to what extent field implicates an industry; to what extent the consumer's motivation is palliative.

05-02-12

Whether Seau shot himself in the chest for the same reason that Duerson shot himself in the chest; whether the term athlete is a pretense; whether these men are de facto gladiators; whether there are moral implications of being entertained by these men; whether the Gridiron and the Sandbox are equidistant; whether "over there rather than over here"; whether foreign trauma leads to domestic violence; whether the beatification of Pat Tillman; whether this is what empire looks like.

Arrivée.

I'm basically just a trombonist along for the ride, so I feel I can write this and not be boasting:

Over the last four and one-half years, the Rats & People Motion Picture Orchestra has composed a body of work, in both scope and volume, that is remarkable. In total, 10 hours and 43 minutes of music has been composed over the last four and one-half years. If the average length of a symphony is roughly 30 minutes, then that's 21 symphonies-worth of compositional output.

More remarkable is that the vast majority of this 21 symphonies-worth of composition is the work of two people: Matt Pace and Brien Seyle. (Each of the ensemble's other members have contributed slivers of score here and there, and Kevin O'Connor has written two 20-minute scores.) Even with most of the compositional work split between two people, that's a remarkable amount of output for each person.

Still more remarkable (to me, anyway) is that the entirety of this gigantic body of work has been composed without grants, or fellowships, or stipends. It's truly phenomenal. It's been truly phenomenal for me to see and to perform. Again ... I'm not boasting. I'm really just along for the ride.

That's not to say that the ensemble hasn't received crucial support and encouragement from the film arts and music community. The Webster University Film Series, Cinema St. Louis and the Lee School in Columbia, MO each in a very real sense have commissioned most of the ensemble's work, offering the ensemble sponsorship, space, and what amount of scratch they can gather for the ensemble to premiere new work to the public. Local "rock" venues including Off Broadway, El Lenador and the Heavy Anchor (as well as some backyard owners who shall remain nameless) have welcomed the ensemble with open arms. The Ragtag Cinema in Columbia has hosted the ensemble several times. Ragtag has become the ensemble's "home away from home" in many respects.

And, of course, all of the people who bother to come and see and hear us, and all of the bands who have been nice enough to share a bill with us.

The photograph above was taken roughly two years ago. I love this photograph. It was taken after we performed our score to Go West for the students, parents and faculty of Lee School in the Missouri Theatre in Columbia. It was a beautiful performance in a beautiful place. The students laughed hysterically at every gag. Their laughter filled up that big room as much as and often more than our music did. We were all making the soundtrack together.

I love this photograph for a lot of reasons, and one big reason is that the photograph depicts us as if we've just arrived at some new place - as if we're all peering at something ahead of us. That performance really felt like that to me: an arrival for the ensemble.

Next Thursday April 5th at the Luminary, I feel that an arrival of sorts will happen again for the ensemble. The Rats & People Motion Picture Orchestra opens for the legendary songwriter, composer and arranger Van Dyke Parks. It's a remarkable opportunity for us, and a remarkable event as our admiration for Parks has now come full-circle. It feels like another arrival.

So ... back to the phenomenal ... and here I will boast (because it's a civic boast):

None of this - not the 21 symphonies-worth of composition - not the ensemble's beautiful show in Columbia - not the ensemble's opportunity to perform on the same bill as a bona fide genius - none of this would have happened without St. Louis. None of this would have happened without an arts and music community that cares less about who you know and more about what you do. Our willingness to support each other's endeavors is a willingness to cultivate the best out of each other. Take it from me, this is very rare and special for a "scene."

There's been a lot of talk lately that our town's arts and music scene is at or close to a tipping point - that it has or is about to "arrive" on a more national profile. I think that talk is correct.

If and when we do "arrive," let's remember how we arrived. Let's remember how to sustain ourselves toward the next arrival.

(Maybe I'll see you Thursday, April 5th at the Luminary?)