A Week with Alice Parker

With Alice in her studio

Dear Reader,

As I write this, I am sitting in my bed in an old rustic cabin at Singing Brook Farm. The farm is aptly named, not only because of the soothing sounds of the brook flowing by just outside my window; the dear lady who owns this farm, Alice Parker, lives a life overflowing with song. Like the brook that gently courses through her parcel of these serene hills in western Massachusetts, it helps bring life and energy to everything around it. Four colleagues and I have experienced that first hand over the past five days, and now we don’t want to leave.

Earlier today, Alice (as she insists on being called in spite of my feelings of unworthiness) was talking to us about “reentry”—how to mentally prepare ourselves to go back into the “real world.” Here, we are largely sheltered from its chaos. In fact, Alice said that the world could be falling apart at its seams even as we speak, and we wouldn’t know a thing about it. We are out in the middle of nowhere, with no cell service, very limited internet access, no TV, no radio. But we have song, and we have each other. This, here and now, she said, is the most important thing we could be doing. We are preparing to bring the joy of song to a world that desperately needs it. I know that because I needed it; I didn’t realize just how much until I came here again.

So just what have we been doing, while the world may or may not have been falling apart at the seams? We’ve been singing a great deal. We’ve been sharing ideas and stories, learning about one another’s craft. We’ve talked about the frustrations inherent in what we do, but also its great rewards. We’ve also eaten lots, cooked together, and probably gained weight. We’ve certainly laughed a lot. And we’ve peppered poor Alice with an almost relentless barrage of questions about almost everything imaginable. I commented to one of my colleagues that Alice is a perpetual fountain of profundity. That fountain never seems to run dry. And she’s almost 90 years old.

It’s inspiring, albeit a little embarrassing, that a 90-year-old seems to have more energy than I do. It must have a lot to do with her optimism and the joy she finds in simple things—the company of friends, a good meal, the bear that ran past the window and distracted us all during class, a folksong sung from the heart. By contrast, I was kind of depressed when I arrived here last Sunday afternoon. Things had not been going well; I was weighed down with deep regrets about the past and great uncertainty and doubts about the future—What should I do? Where should I go? Is the world falling apart? My own personal cloud seemed to be following me around and preventing me from seeing the beauty around me. It was through that cloud that Alice reached as her hand came in the open car window and warmly clasped mine. “Ethan! how lovely to see you again,” she said with grandmotherly sweetness and a radiant smile that makes her appear 20 years younger. Somehow, it felt a bit like coming home.

"Alice's Cabin," so named because her father built for her when she was a child. This is where the composition fellows stayed this year.

Well, dear reader, I heartily thank you for indulging my stories. For now, I suppose I should get some sleep. It’s after 11:00pm. I’d like to entertain the silly fancy that by sleeping in this cabin, where Alice used to sleep as a child and where she later worked on choral arrangements with Robert Shaw, I’ll inhale some of the creativity that is hopefully floating in the air (or is that moth balls I’m smelling?). We’ll see how it goes…

Deep peace to you,

Ethan

October 1, 2015
Singing Brook Farm
Hawley, Massachusetts

First Composition of 2015

Hey everybody! Sorry I have not posted anything for a while. Lately I've been absorbed in finishing my first half-decent large-scale work: a "requiem" of sorts for chorus and orchestra, entitled That they may rest. It features a selection of some of my favorite scripture passages. I am pleased to announce that, as of today at around 2:30am, the work is complete.... except for the orchestration, but that's the easy part... NOT!

I'm also pleased to announce that some good friends of mine back home at Southern Adventist University have agreed to be "guinea pigs" and put together a performance of the work this semester. Dr. Julie Penner teaches a class designed to give students experience in the process of rehearsing and performing extended works, and I am grateful that she has decided to incorporate my composition into the curriculum this semester. Stay tuned for a performance date.

In the photo below you can see the makeshift composition studio (practice room) in which I've been working.

Thank you all for your support!

Yours,

Ethan McGrath
January 14, 2015

Friedensau, Germany

Ethan McGrath discusses his "Fantasia on Sacred Harp Tunes"

The following is an interview of sorts for the student newspaper at Southern Adventist University, regarding the forthcoming premiere of my orchestral "Fantasia on Sacred Harp Tunes." The initials C. S. belong to Cheyenne Silvers, the student reporter asking the questions; the initials E. M. belong to yours truly.

     C. S.
Why did you write this piece?

     E. M.
For several years now, I’ve written mostly choral music. That’s partly because there seem to be more performance opportunities available for choral works than for just about anything else. But when I went to UT Chattanooga to study composition in 2012, my teacher suggested that I do more instrumental projects to “round out” my portfolio. In a way, the “Fantasia” was the culmination of my composition degree; it was the last project I worked on at UTC, and represents a significant milestone in my compositional output—a synthesis of so many different things I learned during my college years and before.

     C. S.
What was your inspiration for it?

     E. M.
For years now I’ve been fascinated with the shape-note singing traditions of 19^th-century America. (In the written score, these songs utilize noteheads of various shapes—part of a system designed to help the common people learn to sight-sing more proficiently). The Sacred Harp is the title of perhaps the most famous shape-note hymnal. The music is unpretentious, unapologetically rustic, and imbued with a homespun simplicity of spirit that reflects the ideals of the people that first created and sung these songs. It’s a uniquely American heritage to which I’ve sought, with admitted nationalism, to pay homage in my new orchestral work.

Another source of inspiration was the concept of Gebrauchsmusik—that is, music intended to serve a practical function or to “fill a void.” One of my former professors, J. Bruce Ashton (who plays viola in the SAU Orchestra), once told me that there is a lack of good orchestral music that can be performed in church without controversy. This is part of the reason I decided to employ hymn tunes in a work that I hope is equally appropriate in the church and the concert hall.

     C. S.
What do you want the audience to gain from your piece?

     E. M.
Amid the chaos of 21^st century America, it sometimes behooves us to be reminded of simpler times, simpler art from our past. Simple things are often the most beautiful. It’s in this spirit that I hope to draw attention to the often-neglected shape-note songs, and illustrate how those old tunes are still relevant in the 21^st century. We live in an age in which there seems to be “nothing new under the sun,” therefore many composers, including myself in this case, are digging up treasures from the past. When re-expressed through a given composer’s idiosyncratic lens, past treasures can essentially become new again. So the old shape-note songs are relevant in terms of the possibilities they present as source material for new American compositions. I hope the audience likes the tunes and likes hearing them in the context of a cultivated art form. If they do, I think it will be advantageous to use a similar avenue in the future to create renewed interest in America’s musical heritage.

     C. S.

Why choose Southern's Orchestra to play it for the first time? 

     E. M.
I’ve had the privilege of knowing the conductor, Laurie Redmer Minner, for many years, as well as several of the current orchestra members. Mrs. Minner mentioned to me several months ago that she would love to have the orchestra play something of mine. It’s a composer’s dream to hear that. It gave me the motivation to finish the “Fantasia” over the summer.

Mrs. Minner and the SAU Orchestra have played an important role in my musical development. I’ve attended their concerts often, ever since I was 13 years old. So it was a great honor and a dream-come-true to perform with the orchestra in 2013 as part of the annual concerto competition. It’s an equally exciting dream-come-true to have them perform my new orchestral composition.

Mrs. Minner is very supportive of local composers, and I am grateful. In addition to my work, she has performed orchestral music by UTC composition professors Jonathan McNair and Mario Abril, as well as SAU’s own J. Bruce Ashton.

     C. S.
When did you go to Southern?

     E. M.
I attended Southern for my freshman and sophomore years, beginning in fall 2010. I transferred to UTC in 2012 to complete my degree, since I wanted to obtain a degree in composition (not offered at Southern).

     C. S.
What instruments do you play?

     E. M.
I play piano and organ. I also took viola lessons during high school, and have long been fond of that instrument—one that is often underappreciated. (The violists in the SAU orchestra have told me they are pretty excited that they get a play a significant role in my composition).

     C. S.
Did you play in the Orchestra while you were a student? If so, what instrument?

     E. M.
I did not play in the orchestra during college. Unfortunately, I don’t play any orchestral instruments at the collegiate level. There’s a part of me that wants to get back into viola if I can find the time.

     C. S.
Will you attend the concert performance on Sunday, October 5th?

     E. M.
Before my composition had been scheduled for the October 5 performance, I had been accepted and had committed to attending Alice Parker’s composition workshop in Massachusetts. Since the workshop begins on October 5, I will, unfortunately, not be able to attend the performance that day. However, I will happily be in attendance when the orchestra plays my work for services at the Collegedale Seventh-day Adventist Church on October 4, and am greatly looking forward to it.

     C. S.
If so, what are you looking for in the performance?

     E. M.
It can be a little scary sometimes to let my compositions out of my studio and “into the real world.” I’m always curious to see if the things I’ve concocted on paper translate precisely into the sounds I was envisioning. In this case, thankfully, I have the advantage of attending rehearsals, so I don’t expect to be surprised at the performances. The orchestra is doing a terrific job of bringing my vision to life, and I am deeply grateful. One of the biggest things the composition needs in performance is what I like to call “vim and vigor,” and my colleagues in the SAU orchestra have an abundance of it. They seem to like the composition. That makes me happy, and gives me hope that the audience will like it too. It’s going to be a great performance.

     C. S.
If there is anything else you would like to add, for students to know about your success as a composer or advice for any student, please feel free to elaborate

     E. M.
People are often hesitant to try composing, because they fear that they won’t be any good at it, or they are overwhelmed at the prospect, or intimidated by the standard set by great composers of the past. That was how I felt for a long time, so I didn’t compose hardly anything. But, finally, I couldn’t take it anymore; I just had to compose. The things I wrote at first were terrible, admittedly, but I kept writing. That’s really the big secret to composing (and, I suspect, just about anything in life). So I suppose the best advice I can offer to students interested in composition is this: You’ve just got to do it. If you go into it with an open mind, taking note of what works and what doesn’t work along the way, you will learn fast.

The biggest way to aid the process is to listen to music of the great composers often—and I mean really listen. We all hear a lot of music, all around us, practically all the time, but we often don’t really take the time to listen intently. So listen to recordings with the score in front of you, taking note all along the way of what the composer wrote on the page to achieve the sounds you hear. I really believe I have learned more from doing that than anything else.

Another big component to learning how to compose effective music is to get as many performances as you possibly can. The best place to start may be among your friends. Write music for your friends to play or sing; people love the novelty of having music composed specifically for them. When they play or sing it, you will learn much. Take note of the things that work and don’t work; ask your friends for advice on what works well for their respective instruments. They’ll be flattered that you care enough to ask them, and they often have good advice to offer.

Even if you don’t want to become a career composer, trying your hand at the craft will open your mind and help you to view the works of the masters in a whole new light—it can give you a brand new appreciation for the music you perform, because you will be able to identify with the composers who wrote it.

Perhaps Love...

The other day, I was listening to John Denver while driving down I-24. Midway through the song “Sunshine on my Shoulders,” I noticed that I was subconsciously driving about 10 miles per hour slower than usual, and felt perfectly content doing so. It occurred to me that I had inadvertently stumbled across the best possible illustration of John’s genius. He had a rare gift for underlining the beauty of simple things, and thus drawing listeners into the world of each song. It is simply difficult to feel stressed and in a hurry while listening to a song like “Sunshine On My Shoulders,” or "Hey, It's Good to Be Back Home Again."

What's even more remarkable is his inexplicable knack for making his audience feel like he cared about them. I've often bemoaned that the public seems to be concerned primarily with shallow things: they want a show with lots of fireworks—the bigger, the louder, the faster, the better. But, in truth, people may think they want a show, but as soon as you look them in the eye and sing with sincerity, "If I had a song that I could sing for you, / I’d sing a song to make you feel this way," suddenly extravagance and virtuosity don’t seem so important anymore, and they’ll listen to you sing your sweet, simple songs for hours. Whether they realize it or not, people don't really want a show; they want love. Perhaps we seek after extravagance as a means of distracting ourselves from the pain of feeling unloved. I believe John must have understood that, even if only subconsciously, and that understanding was one big secret of his success.

The essence of John Denver's craft is embodied in lines from another song of his: "Perhaps love is like a window, perhaps an open door / It invites you to come closer, it wants to show you more.” Take a look at the video below, and note what he says by way of introduction: "I wrote this song for you; I want you to know that." Artists, regardless of their specific fields, can learn a lot from this approach. 

I'm reading Dale Carnegie, and finding the principles under every rock, it seems.