Henning's Headquarters

[Karl Henning]

♫ Where do I begin...?

[Luke]

Here

[Karl Henning]

Hah!

In my dreams . . . that solution will not quite serve at present . . . .

[Karl Henning]

I've now got my In Box back to double digits.  More tea!

[Cato]

I've now got my In Box back to double digits.  More tea!

Yay Team!

Karl, be sure to send these piano pieces to my former student!

[Karl Henning]

Yay Team!

Karl, be sure to send these piano pieces to my former student!

We have contact!

And, in the spirit of trending towards a possible "restoration" of an 11-ish-piece Little Towns, Low Countries suite, here I have re-engraved Lutosławski's Lullaby.

Edit :: old version deleted

[Karl Henning]

As with Lutosławski's Lullaby, I had actually done up a Finale file of Gaze Transfixt, and Eric Mazonson played from those scores (his performance was the première of Gaze Transfixt;  the Lullaby actually enjoyed a première in San Diego).  Typographically, I felt that both pieces looked something of a compromise in those first engravings . . . and chances are, that dissatisfaction was a subtle inhibitor stopping me from bringing all these other early pieces out from the shadows.

Anyway, here is the start of a fresh engraving of Gaze Transfixt.

[Karl Henning]

Now off to King's Chapel to play (such as I may) the Studies in Impermanence.  A bit embarrassed about the condition the piece is in (in my fingers, I mean), I was thinking of not recording it.  But, actually (as befits the title) I think I should record it, just to have the document.  What the heck . . . .

[Karl Henning]

The Studies in Impermanence went today much better than I expected.  Firstly, I never practice (you probably know that), except (maybe) when I have a performance coming up.  Then, as a rule, if it is an ensemble piece, I largely accomplish the practice I need when rehearsing with the group.  A month ago, maybe, I knew I would be alone this concert, and that I was playing this piece.  Did I practice? No.

I went out of town for nearly a week, last week.  Knew I couldn't possibly not practice, so brought my clarinet (and the music!) with me.  Did I practice the piece?  No.  But twice, Paul and I (with a bass player the second time) did some improv together.  So I got some practicing in, which is really probably as much as I anticipated getting done on vacation.


Came home Saturday, but the transportation was a little complicated, so I gave it up as too much hassle to practice.  Was simply lazy about it on Sunday.  (Lazy?  Only in terms of playing clarinet;  I've been getting a lot of engraving done.  Not that there was anything like a timely need for it, as there certainly was for practicing clarinet.)  Got home from the office, and yes, I practiced.  Well, played through the piece.  Because it is a few years since I played it last, there were (to start with) some three or four places where my muscle memory failed, and I didn't play the right notes.  But the important thing was, that I did play through the whole piece, without exhaustion.


This morning, knew I needed to practice, but knew even more that I need to conserve my embouchure for the show.  So in the Green Room before the concert, clarinet in hand (no mouthpiece) I read and finger through the entire piece, under tempo for the more notey bits.  Penciled in fingerings in a few places where, back when I first played it, I took the fingerings for granted, but for which now I apparently needed the reminder.  And that's all right.

That last bit of rehearsal done, I felt I was ready.

It remains a nervy exploit, playing a 20-minute unaccompanied clarinet piece.

And I learn that I am playing much better these days, than nine years ago, in rather an ironic way. Back when I first played the Studies in Impermanence, I took the faster passages cautiously slow, and the piece stretched out to almost 25 minutes. It's a while since I played it, so I was counting on the piece occupying 25 minutes. (In fact, when I performed the piece a couple of years later, in Atlanta, I took impromptu cuts, to keep the timing down.)

Today, I pretty much coasted through the piece.  (Yes, that was a surprise, considering how ratty last night's run-through was . . . but today I was fresh, where last night, my brain probably suffered a bit from having endured the first day back in the office after a week's vacation.)  Not saying my performance was perfect (it wasn't) but everything sits quite well in the fingers, and this is the most musical performance I've given of this piece yet.


I set up my recorder, but somehow managed not to record the performance.  Maybe I'll try a "studio recording" here at home.

[Karl Henning]

After the concert, a nap and a walk, and some progress on the variations:

[jochanaan]

Nicely and impermanently done! Yes, I think my recital recording of Impermanence clocks in at about 25 minutes. And it certainly was not perfect!

[Karl Henning]

Nicely and impermanently done! Yes, I think my recital recording of Impermanence clocks in at about 25 minutes. And it certainly was not perfect!

Share it with the composer? 

Any thoughts of trotting it back out?

[Karl Henning]

Added a couple of variations again:

[Luke]

Karl, was playing through your beautiful Lullaby this morning - just wondering, what is the rationale behind the notation re beaming/grouping? I would have thought that it would make sense to group the 16ths in 4s and 3s according to the patterns in the figuration and accentuation, but most of the time the beaming runs counter to it. I find this makes it slightly more confusing to play (as do the occurrences of cross-staff notation in the left-hand part - they both seem to rub up against the natural flow of the music across the eye and through the mind. Or maybe that's just me!). I'd have deduced that maybe you simply wrote the notes into Sib and let its default grouping take its course, except for the fact that there are also bars where you clearly have altered the beamings. So I was pondering what your thinking might have been here, whether the notation maybe indicated some deeper processes under the surface which I haven't seen.

But it's a truly lovely piece, whatever.

[Karl Henning]

Thank you for your thoughts, and your patience!  Jiggered if I remember the rationale . . . I've just really transcribed now the piece as it's always been.  But I am apt to agree with you now, whatever my rationale may have been then;  so I should likely go in and tinker with both the beaming and the staff-crossing.

[Karl Henning]

Just in case it isn't as obvious as I half-feel it may be:  the Lullaby is an homage to the C Major preludes of Bach and Chopin, essentially a chord progression, rhythmicized (another exploration of, Does music really need melody in order to be music?)

[Luke]

Don't worry, that is very clear, I think. It works beautifully.

[Karl Henning]

There is a double wind quintet here in the Boston area called Kammerwerke. (Why? I haven't the foggiest.)  We are presently exchanging e-mail, the Do we want to commission a piece from you? choreography.  I am going to write up a sample, the incipit of a potential commission which they will read and evaluate at their August rehearsal.

On my walk this morning, I beheld the title for this piece:  The Young Lady Holding a Phone in Her Teeth.

[jochanaan]

There is a double wind quintet here in the Boston area called Kammerwerke. (Why? I haven't the foggiest.)  We are presently exchanging e-mail, the Do we want to commission a piece from you? choreography.  I am going to write up a sample, the incipit of a potential commission which they will read and evaluate at their August rehearsal.

On my walk this morning, I beheld the title for this piece:  The Young Lady Holding a Phone in Her Teeth.

Sounds like a piece you should go ahead and write, commission or no.

[Karl Henning]

Agreed!