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Post by Dave Dexter on Sept 1, 2017 10:55:20 GMT
I'd like to believe that when I'm working well I'm a conduit for some mighty Other, merely channeling from some musical reservoir beyond the stars, but it's more likely to have been a good sandwich.
My tips for inspiration are prosaic, personal and 100% not foolproof;
A long walk and some energy drink.
Uncluttered surroundings and studio.
If I'm feeling stuck, just compose four bars, or one, in a day (not always possible).
Decent blood sugar.
The quickest possible method of moving ideas from your head to the real world.
Listening to something you wish you'd composed.
Tiffany lamps.
What were the circumstances around your best composing session?
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Post by Mike Hewer on Sept 1, 2017 12:32:28 GMT
We have a nice Tiffany standard lamp! When I was writing to commission, the deadline more often than not gave me no time to really think and as such I relied on the wits available in that moment. In my case, I believe that helped me to produce work that in some cases won me awards. Psychologists call a stream of almost uninhibited, yet coherent thought flow I think. Once the work is done, one has a hard time remembering how it happened and all sense of time is lost. I have had that in my more serious efforts too, but as I said elsewhere, the best way is to put your head down and stay receptive to the moment of fantasy that although possibly unplanned, may well lead the work into a new exciting phase. I too like to be uncluttered in the studio - a metaphor for a clear head.
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Post by fuguestate on Sept 1, 2017 16:38:38 GMT
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Post by Dave Dexter on Sept 1, 2017 18:10:26 GMT
Ah, commissions and deadlines are their own particular thing. I've not yet been in a truly tight serious deadline situation where I had no choice but to write 10 hours a day, but if it was for something exciting I can imagine simply driving through it. Whether the goal was money or a project I felt passionate about. The commission I recently finished wasn't that strict, but I think I wrote some of my better material because I believed in it. I got little green tiffany jobs after playing Bioshock Infinite and wanting some of that 1910 chic. Classy as all get-out (I imagine yours is genuine). What was the most ridiculous, deadline-looming job you ever had? The sheerest concentration of work in the shortest time? We have a nice Tiffany standard lamp! When I was writing to commission, the deadline more often than not gave me no time to really think and as such I relied on the wits available in that moment. In my case, I believe that helped me to produce work that in some cases won me awards. Psychologists call a stream of almost uninhibited, yet coherent thought flow I think. Once the work is done, one has a hard time remembering how it happened and all sense of time is lost. I have had that in my more serious efforts too, but as I said elsewhere, the best way is to put your head down and stay receptive to the moment of fantasy that although possibly unplanned, may well lead the work into a new exciting phase. I too like to be uncluttered in the studio - a metaphor for a clear head.
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Post by Bob Porter on Sept 1, 2017 23:47:10 GMT
Well, since I write for the fun of it, I require nothing special. My composing computer is on a too small, cluttered desk in the corner of a cluttered room. I usually have some kind of idea what the instrumentation will be. Maybe a key. Maybe a time signature. Maybe a tempo. Once that's all set then I start plopping notes down. Then I try to hang on. I'm not in control. The music is. That doesn't at all mean I can't write to a particular purpose. It just means that I want to be as open as possible. I can write whenever I sit at the computer. I seldom, if ever, have any kind of block. From time to time things start to stray. At times like that, I prefer to write my way out of it. But sometimes I have to delete a few bars, and continue. I'm not sure what inspiration is. I just write. I'm sure you guys that write for real don't think I'm a serious composer. But I can assure you that I care deeply about each and every note as if my life depends on it. Because it does.
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Post by Tim Marko on Sept 2, 2017 0:42:31 GMT
The secret ingredient is to compose!!!!
I make it a point to spend time every day with my notation program open and create "something". Most times it never goes any further than an idea. Then something clicks and I have a germ of an idea that takes me on it's own journey. Those are the times as Bob said, "I'm not in control". Often times, what I put down may not come to fruition today, but a few days or weeks from now it suddenly comes back and I have a full concept.
I guess my method is in my signature as stated by Bernstein.
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Post by Dave Dexter on Sept 2, 2017 7:25:48 GMT
The secret ingredient is to compose!!!! Well, that's true enough.
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Post by Mike Hewer on Sept 2, 2017 7:59:14 GMT
@dave, I used to work in Soho London in the thick of media. One time having just finished a session with a guitarist, the phone rang and an old client asked if I could get them out of a hole. They were in a dubbing studio not far from me and their client hated the music they were using. They asked if I could write a guitar track and get it to them within the hour. I stopped Eddie the guitarist from leaving, asked if he could stay and set about writing 30" of Spanish guitar music. I used to play guitar and was ok writing in that style and Eddie was a good sight reader. It was done, recorded and delivered just on the hour, the client loved it and I got a lot of kudos for such quick work. Even that wasn't the quickest though. A few times I had to just improvise to picture with a full pack of clients in tow who would approve or disapprove there and then! The Tiffany is a repro! @bob, If you care about the notes so much, you are a real composer in my book. No matter what the level of expertise, it means nothing without that sincerity. Tim Marko, Couldn't agree more. I finished a symphony last year that was started about 15 years ago. I couldn't finish it at the time because work kept getting in the way (not a complaint). In fact Bernstein has also been an inspiration to me. I am a big fan of his symphonies and have sung in the Chichester Psalms. I remember in the early 1990s, he was in London at a record signing and I walked past the shop (the now gone Tower records) after a hard day in session. I saw the queue and nearly joined it but didn't. He died not long after that and I will always regret not getting to see him up close. I never even got to see him in concert which is even worse. Ah, commissions and deadlines are their own particular thing. I've not yet been in a truly tight serious deadline situation where I had no choice but to write 10 hours a day, but if it was for something exciting I can imagine simply driving through it. Whether the goal was money or a project I felt passionate about. The commission I recently finished wasn't that strict, but I think I wrote some of my better material because I believed in it. I got little green tiffany jobs after playing Bioshock Infinite and wanting some of that 1910 chic. Classy as all get-out (I imagine yours is genuine). What was the most ridiculous, deadline-looming job you ever had? The sheerest concentration of work in the shortest time? We have a nice Tiffany standard lamp! When I was writing to commission, the deadline more often than not gave me no time to really think and as such I relied on the wits available in that moment. In my case, I believe that helped me to produce work that in some cases won me awards. Psychologists call a stream of almost uninhibited, yet coherent thought flow I think. Once the work is done, one has a hard time remembering how it happened and all sense of time is lost. I have had that in my more serious efforts too, but as I said elsewhere, the best way is to put your head down and stay receptive to the moment of fantasy that although possibly unplanned, may well lead the work into a new exciting phase. I too like to be uncluttered in the studio - a metaphor for a clear head.
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Post by Bob Porter on Sept 2, 2017 16:09:54 GMT
Mike,
The complaint I hear most about my music is that it is too simple. Not enough key changes, or development, or thematic material. All true. I know what all those things are, what they do, and how to use them. Truth is, I don't believe that music has to be complicated, or difficult, or academic to be good. What does it need? That is the eternal quest. I don't think music is a formula. Not even a fugue. Even a fugue has to have a spark in the theme that moves it forward. Otherwise it's just a run of notes, doing nothing. A good melody can stand on its own. It doesn't need any accompaniment. That's hard to do. That's why I say I care about every note. I just wish I was successful.
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Post by king2b on Sept 2, 2017 16:56:47 GMT
Bob, Sounds a bit like myself. Over time I have learnt about key changes and changing instrumentation but I basically write in a simple way. One way around it has been to keep the pieces quite short, about 3/4 minutes, any longer and it seems to loose it's way. Someone has tried to instruct me in harmony but they failed(my fault). Basically if it is what you want then stick to it.
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Post by fuguestate on Sept 2, 2017 23:37:28 GMT
[...] I don't think music is a formula. Not even a fugue. Even a fugue has to have a spark in the theme that moves it forward. Otherwise it's just a run of notes, doing nothing. [...] I totally agree. That's why I am automatically skeptical whenever someone presents as a piece of music something that's completely mechanically generated. That may be some kind of abstract sound art, but it fails to be music in my book. What's the difference between the two? I've a hard time defining it. But it's like a "text" generated by a Dada engine, fulfilling every rule of grammar or even essay composition structure, yet devoid of actual meaning, unlike a real piece of text. It's words without a message, notes devoid of music. Your example of a mechanically constructed fugue is spot on. It's not that difficult to create a "fugue" that satisfies all the "rules" of fugue, yet it falls flat as a piece of music. The subject must have a "spark", as you said, but even after the rather strict formula in the episode, you have the free counterpoint in the episodes. What do you put in there? That will make or break the fugue. This is where the masters really begin to shine in how they develop the material presented in the exposition, and where the amateur churns out boring, ho-hum stuff. (Though truth be told, even in the exposition one can already discern the potent way a master unveils his themes, vs the formulaic yet anemic presentation of the amateur.)
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Post by fuguestate on Sept 2, 2017 23:47:26 GMT
[...] I basically write in a simple way. One way around it has been to keep the pieces quite short, about 3/4 minutes, any longer and it seems to loose it's way. [...] This is where traditional forms can really help impart large scale structure to the music. They are essentially tried and true ways early composers have found that make long pieces "work". Having said that, though, it's not merely a matter of following a formula. The music has to "want" to be in a sonata form, for example, for the sonata form to work. Otherwise you just get something in the trappings of a sonata form but doesn't actually work as one. More modern forms have the same purpose, and also the same caveat. The form can help the music, but ultimately it must be the music that decides the form, not the other way around.
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Post by Mike Hewer on Sept 3, 2017 7:49:09 GMT
Alternatively, a formal plan can act as signposts and/or destinations to head for to give forward momentum. All very well in theory of course because as Teoh implies, the fantasy of the mind, perhaps egged on by the music that has been written so far for a work, might have different ideas and wander off down a less well trodden path. If the musical idea is pregnant enough (and that really is an essential requirement in a lot of concert music at least) then it will probably start to dictate where it wants to go. The extent to which the composer is receptive enough to be able to see (hear) the implications, go on the journey with, and steer the material is down to the experience and training. Of course this mainly applies to concert music and perhaps film scoring as more often than not, development of material is required during a film. I think we are all in a broad agreement though - no matter the aspiration or the skill level of a piece, if it is sincere and judiciously considered by the aesthetic standards of the composer writing it, it's message has a good chance of appealing to those with receptive ears to its language.
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Post by Bob Porter on Sept 3, 2017 14:10:07 GMT
I wouldn't ditch a formula altogether. I suppose there needs to be a theme, a development/second theme, and a return to the first theme. This at the very least. So the first theme has to be worth coming back to. The development/second theme has to be challenging and continue to draw us in to the piece. Just when we aren't sure what is happening, the first theme reappears and takes us home.
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Post by fuguestate on Sept 6, 2017 19:40:04 GMT
Bob Porter: But what about the "air & variations" form, where you basically have only 1 theme, and you just present it in as many different ways as you can?
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