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In response to the Trump administration’s decision to deter migrants from entering the U.S. by separating children from their parents, besides writing a long chain of letters to members of Congress and attending numerous rallies, I felt a need to write this music.  At a time when a tape of crying children was hot in the news, with the sound of those terrified children in my ears, saxophones seemed like the right instruments to express that pathos.

I was pleased to hear that saxophonist Paul Cohen has arranged for a quartet of his students to premiere the work this coming Friday, at NYU’s Provincetown Playhouse, 133 McDougal Street, 8pm.

It has been several decades, at least, since I really listened to Shostakovich’s symphonies. However, having been writing for orchestra lately, I had a desire to go back and work my way through them again – and found myself surprised that I found them as intense and profound as I did way back when, even though my musical tastes have changed a bit over the years. I simply loved carefully following the flow of his musical thought – how he moves from moment to moment, when he decides to dive headlong into a contrasting idea, how he develops and morphs a musical thought, or shifts orchestration to paint a theme in an entirely different light. Of course, there are his radical shifts in mood, ranging from the most profound depths of sorrow and despair, to moments that make your spirit soar, to uncontrolled bouts of absurd silliness.

While I can’t say I have a particular favorite, as I listened to them all, I was wondering why it was just the 5th that was taught when I was in the conservatory and it is the 5th that I occasionally hear on the radio – and none of the others. There are several others which I prefer by far. A matter of taste of course, but the ones I’ve now listened to multiple times, without tiring of them, are 7, 8, 10, 11, 12 and 14. I admit I’m still scratching my head over the first movement of #15 – why the theme of the William Tell overture over and over again? There may be an answer to that question that a little research will reveal…

For any readers of this blog who are feeling a bit obsessive, all 15 in a row are on YouTube, conducted by Kirill Kondrashin. 10:39:53. A day well spent.

While visiting London, we spent several hours in Westminster Abbey. While I am generally quite conscious of how much of my interior life is indebted to great men and women of the past who have contributed to the arts and sciences over the centuries, that feeling was particularly acute while roaming through the Abbey. In the first few minutes of our visit, I found myself walking across the spot where John Blow was buried – and said thanks, John, for all of the great keyboard music that I enjoy playing centuries later. We missed it by a day or so, but Stephen Hawkings ashes were laid to rest there this week.

A partial list of what I remember seeing, individuals either buried in the Abbey or for which there were memorial statues (besides English royalty, which like today’s politicians, contribute very little if anything to my inner life, except perhaps to its detriment).

Muzio Clementi, George Handel, Henry Purcell, Charles Stanford, Edward Elgar, Ralph Vaugh Williams, Benjamin Britten, Charles Darwin, Michael Faraday, Isaac Newton, James Maxwell, Paul Dirac, Lord Kelvin, Charles Darwin, Milton, Shakespeare, Dickens, Ben Jonson, William Blake, Auden, Dylan Thomas, the Bronte sisters, Jane Austen, Chaucer, Byron, Thomas Hardy, Robert Browning, William Turner.

Now and then, I attend a concert that, among the many hundreds I’ve attended, stands out unforgettably.  Last night, at London’s Wigmore Hall, the performance of selected late madrigals by Orlando Lassus by the Collegium Vocale Gent was such a concert.  From the opening first few seconds of music, I was no longer on this planet (which was a relief).  Still not quite back to earth.

My list of such concerts is few – the complete Bach solo violin sonatas and partitas performed in Sainte Chappelle; Mitsuko Uchida performing the last three Beethoven piano sonatas at Carnegie Hall.

Lassus has long been a favorite composer for me.  These madrigals represent the height of Renaissance polyphonic vocal writing.  Heaven.

Last week I spent several days at the 2018 International Viola D’amore Society Congress.  Long story short, Gertrud Schmidt found some of my songs with viola d’amore accompaniment on my website and contacted me to ask to perform them and for me to write a new piece for her, with soprano Berenike Langmaack.  They both performed my Rilke Songs along with the new piece, a setting of Erich Kaestner’s “Der Februar” at the Congress this past Friday.

I am thankful that I have the wherewithal to be able to make trips like this one.  It was a delightful few days – and much thanks for Gertrud and Berenike for their hospitality.  It is wonderful to make new friends! Also, I am guessing that my visit there will inspire more music for the instrument, having heard, over the several days of my visit, viola d’amore music from across centuries.