Henning's Headquarters

[Karl Henning]

Late-breaking news: There is (or, will be, anyway) a recording of Angular Whimsies from the tour.

When we shall get a chance to hear it, no knowing just yet.

Oh, but that's funny. Still no idea when a recording may ever reach me.

[Karl Henning]

. . . Bad news, Cato, but I need to re-think (or, may need to re-think) the Cantata.  The harpsichordist I was thinking of has removed himself from availability on a volunteer basis (can't blame him, really).  So whether I think of altering the scoring, or perhaps find another player of the jangly instrument . . . .

As you know, Cato, there's a fellow with an office on Gainesborough Street. Well, I continue to hear nothing from him.  His group is touring now, though.

I've pinged him with an e-mail msg.  We shall see.

[Karl Henning]

The feeling won't plague me forever, but rather down at the moment.  My publisher sent me e-mail this morning (generally a good thing, of course), asking me what pieces of mine were premièred this year. None, I replied.

But in combing the Headquarters, I found that in my despondency I had belied myself.  In April we played premières of Marginalia, and two of These Unlikely Events. Of course, the three pieces together take less than 10 minutes to play;  and these were fl/cl/hp arrangements in the hope of just getting an audience for the music.  So I am almost sadder to reflect on such pieces as have had inaugural performances in 2012.

Someone make a joke. TIA.

[Cato]

Someone make a joke.

Recently my wife and I celebrated our 40th Wedding Anniversary.

We went to the exact same hotel and got the exact same room as on our wedding night.

This time I went into the bathroom and cried!   

[Karl Henning]

Oh, that did make me chuckle. Bless you, friend!

[kishnevi]

Another joke.

A man meets an old friend on the street, and sees he is limping badly, and looks rather beat up by life in general.
"Nu, Herschel! Was is dos?*  You're limping?  What happened?  What do the doctors say?"
"No, Moshe, it's only the shoes.  They fit so badly--nu, I have blisters and corns from them."
"Nu, get another pair of shoes!"
"Nu,  it's not that important."
"A cripple you want to look like? Nu!"
"Nu,"  says Moshe with a wave of his hand.  "I get up in the morning, and the neighbors are already yelling at each other from across the street.  My wife is upset already and overcooks breakfast, and by the time I finish it I've missed the subway to work, and, nu,  my boss is angry, and gives me too much work to do even on a good day. For lunch, if I'm lucky, it's a bad pastrami sandwich at David's Deli because that's the cheapest thing on the block.  And then,nu, more work, and I'm home late for supper, with a pile of bills in the mail--nu--kids screaming at each other,  my wife still mad.  And then, comes the one moment of pleasure in the whole day."
"Nu, what could that be?"
"What else?  Taking off these awful shoes that hurt me so much.  Nu!  I take them off, and,  Herschel,  what a machiah!  It's like Paradise!"  And with a remembrance of satisfaction,  "Nu...."


*This is of course a Yiddish joke.  The plethora of nus is a tribute to Leo Rosten, in whose Joys of Yiddish I found it.

[Brian]

I suspected I was quite late in giving a new listen to the Henning viola sonata, and a quick GMG search reveals that I am very late indeed. It's now been two years, in fact, since I first heard it. On the other hand, those two years have opened my ears considerably (I found a post of similar vintage documenting my boredom with Stravinsky's octet, for instance!). So I listened as if it were new.

First movement: on second/first impression the strongest impression I have is of the dramatic buildup over the final minute or so, which is fairly well gripping. This is still a musical language that is not my first, so to speak, but I have an impression of, if not always knowing the syntax, understanding the diction, the enunciation. Hrm, that will do as a metaphor for now.

"In Dave's Shed" I had remembered as my favorite movement previously and so it remains. It's easy to see why - it has a more lyrical bent and a relaxed way about it, like days spent in the shed, perhaps. Maybe I'm missing Dave Brubeck a little too much, but listen to the piano accompaniment from 3:40-4:40: it reminds me a bit of a jazz pianist following an improvised solo with tasteful chords. Another recollection was in thinking the "Suspension Bridge" title appropriate, somehow, and this I think is because the viola's melodic lines (hrm. Am I allowed to call them melodic? Maybe just lines) seem to grow longer and more substantial as we move along, and of course so does the piano's role. The final bars feel like they are reaching out to someplace they can't quite catch.

The "Tango" rhythm insinuates itself. I feel like that's the word. I only start feeling a dance pulse strongly after about ninety seconds, and the pianist sometimes starts to sound again like a jazzman champing at the bit, but our tango-ist is up to other tricks. At 3:15 are we hearing a quotation or is this hummable Henning?! "Hummable Henning" - hmmm, I oughta copyright that.

I think I get that feeling, with this sonata, that I often do with a piece that challenges me: my "way in" is by identifying places and sections that I find especially intriguing and ear-grabbing (e.g. an episode early on in the first movement, the ending thereof, all of Dave's Shed) and work from there to the parts that are, to me, more enigmatic or at any rate not obvious - one such spot being the ending.

I'm not sure if our friend Karl intended me to hear jazz sounds in some of the piano chords, and I'm not sure I'll hear them again, but I'll at least make him think about it tonight! In the meantime it shall be fewer than two years before my next listen.

[Cato]

I suspected I was quite late in giving a new listen to the Henning viola sonata, and a quick GMG search reveals that I am very late indeed. It's now been two years, in fact, since I first heard it. On the other hand, those two years have opened my ears considerably (I found a post of similar vintage documenting my boredom with Stravinsky's octet, for instance!). So I listened as if it were new.

Very nice comments!  The simplest and yet probably the best advice I ever received about "difficult" music came from Alexander Tcherepnin. 

He said just to keep listening to all kinds of music and expand your ears.

So it might take some time, but if the work has something to say to your soul, eventually you will understand it.

[Karl Henning]

Thanks, Brian, both for listening again, and for your generous remarks!

Especially pleased that the middle movement continues to speak to you.  I was not necessarily aware of actually working harder on that one, but mentally/spiritually I was conscious of wishing to make of it the "heart" of the Sonata. I am flattered, and if I may say so without immodesty, I do think that melodic is the right word.

I think the perception of jazz inflections is entirely reasonable.  I don't know that I set to it deliberately, but in all events jazz has been a key part of my listening diet fo several years, and I don't at all mind whatever "channeling" I may be party to.  I do remember a conversation with Dana (one of our rare meetings in person) where he asked me what jazzers I was listening to, and I listed Monk, Mingus & Dolphy.

[Karl Henning]

Per this (and partly inspired by some fictitious Ohioans) I've actually made a little progress on mvt 1 of the organ sonata.

So, more than ten days elapsed since even that modest lick of work.

OTOH, if I keep true, and write even just a little more to-morrow, I've already enormously improved my work pattern . . . .

[Karl Henning]

Meerenai still has not had a look at Airy Distillates. She assures me that it will happen.

Of course, I am not expecting her to take any particular interest in the piece.  Enthusiasm for this project is now DOA.

Incidentally, she now tweets I'm ready for Xmas music now. No, I don't see her looking at Airy Distillates anytime soon.

[Cato]

Incidentally, she now tweets I'm ready for Xmas music now.

No, I don't see her looking at Airy Distillates anytime soon.

Such is the mercurial disposition of many performers!  I have mentioned often enough that my experiences with them tended to be unpleasant maelstroms of broken promises and downright lies.

[Karl Henning]

Such is the mercurial disposition of many performers!

Well, she called for scores, and she received more than she had anticipated.  As a result, it did not surprise me that she would be unable to keep her original promise to respond to each composer by a certain date.

Still, it's clear that she has taken to one piece which came in for the call, a trendy, interactive gewgaw thing.  Which is one particular reason why I doubt she will take any interest in my piece, which is just notes.  I am fine that they're just notes, because I feel that they're mighty tasty notes . . . .

[Karl Henning]

Still, I should probably wait for some sort of response from her before I offer the piece to any other flutist (which is where this becomes a discourtesy to the composer, rather than a mere nuisance).  So, when do I set a date?  Leave the holidays be;  ping her with e-mail the second week of January;  if she hasn't volunteered a decision by the first of February, I write to thank her for her consideration, but I should like to show the piece to another flutist for his programming planning.

[kishnevi]

Still, I should probably wait for some sort of response from her before I offer the piece to any other flutist (which is where this becomes a discourtesy to the composer, rather than a mere nuisance).  So, when do I set a date?  Leave the holidays be;  ping her with e-mail the second week of January;  if she hasn't volunteered a decision by the first of February, I write to thank her for her consideration, but I should like to show the piece to another flutist for his programming planning.

I would combine the two:  send an email or a snail mail after Epiphany thanking her for her interest, but presuming that, since you haven't heard from her,  her schedule won't allow her to perform the piece in the foreseeable future, so you will be showing it to other performers.   And then do so, unless you actually hear back from her otherwise.

Mind you,  this is not like dealing with a publisher, unless you've agreed in some way that she would have some sort of monopoly on performances.   There's no reason you can't try to get another flutist interested in the work,  except as a courtesy to her, and frankly if she hasn't gotten back to you by now,  I'd say you've already given her more than enough courtesy.   If she really is interested, she can perform it when she's ready to, even if James Galway and half the flutists in New England have already included it in their recitals.

[kishnevi]

I am, btw, now giving the Viola Sonata, the second listen of the night before going to bed.  It's a rather meaty work (although it's fitting that the "heart" should be In Da Shed), and will take a number of relistens before I could give a coherent and intelligent opinion on it--but I am impressed by the generally sparse textures and the resulting sense of dialogue between the two instruments.

[Karl Henning]

I am, btw, now giving the Viola Sonata, the second listen of the night before going to bed.  It's a rather meaty work (although it's fitting that the "heart" should be In Da Shed), and will take a number of relistens before I could give a coherent and intelligent opinion on it--but I am impressed by the generally sparse textures and the resulting sense of dialogue between the two instruments.

Many thanks! Heartily pleased that the piece seems to achieve that balance of the type of musical substance which invites further listening, with (I have always hoped) a character which immediately grabs, well, I guess the sort of listener to whom such a soundworld may appeal.

[Karl Henning]

I would combine the two:  send an email or a snail mail after Epiphany thanking her for her interest, but presuming that, since you haven't heard from her,  her schedule won't allow her to perform the piece in the foreseeable future, so you will be showing it to other performers.   And then do so, unless you actually hear back from her otherwise.

Mind you,  this is not like dealing with a publisher, unless you've agreed in some way that she would have some sort of monopoly on performances.   There's no reason you can't try to get another flutist interested in the work,  except as a courtesy to her, and frankly if she hasn't gotten back to you by now, I'd say you've already given her more than enough courtesy.   If she really is interested, she can perform it when she's ready to, even if James Galway and half the flutists in New England have already included it in their recitals.

That's all sound enough; the only consideration which nudges this dial is, she has been promptly responsive when I've discreetly pinged her ere now. And (per this) I am one of a hundred composers. most of whom are waiting (I should think), as well.

And I can be at ease, anyway, with the thought that whatever she does or does not do, I have the privilege of knowing a fine flutist here in Boston whose generous spirit will take up the piece at practically a moment's notice, and we can arrange a March 2013 première.

[Karl Henning]

Per this (and partly inspired by some fictitious Ohioans) I've actually made a little progress on mvt 1 of the organ sonata.

So, more than ten days elapsed since even that modest lick of work.

OTOH, if I keep true, and write even just a little more to-morrow, I've already enormously improved my work pattern . . . .

FWIW, I wrote another 3½ mm. on the train this morning. If I can engineer the lunch break right, and scrawl some more, that will feel like quite the triumph!

[Karl Henning]

Per the new 3-a-day plan, to which I have remained faithful, good gradual progress on the first mvt of the organ sonata.

My idea for this movement (not that it's anything utterly new) . . . as the incipit for the movement is Eritis sicut Deus... . . . well, how can I put this so it's not a tangle?

A. God is Changeless
B. We creatures are not
C. Our understanding of God, communally and as individuals, alters over time

The proof of the pudding will remain in the eating, but my notion of writing this movement is, a gradual moving on, endless alteration, no recapitulation.