Structures was commissioned by Music at Eden’s Edge, Maria Benotti, Music Director, and funded in part by grants from the Massachusetts Cultural Council, New England Foundation for the Arts (NEFA), and Meet the Composer/New England. The title carries a double meaning—that of a musical, as well as physical, structure. Each movement employs an historic building in Essex County, Massachusetts, as a point of departure. The buildings, and the associated histories of their real or fictional occupants, provide a loose narrative that runs through the work. How the actual buildings influence the musical structure varies from movement to movement. The five movements form a symmetrical arch-shape form, with the first, third and fifth movements consisting of the longest and weightiest musical content. One aspect that unites all of the buildings is in their direct, or tagential, association with the Salem witch hysteria of 1692.

The building upon which the first movement is based, the Rebecca Nurse House (Danvers–trad. 1678), is an archetypical First Period post-and-beam structure with two stories, each divided into two main rooms. This subdivision is reflected in the four main sections of the movement. After the septuagenarian mother of eight was arrested on charges of witchcraft, 40 of her neighbors signed a petition attesting to her strong moral character. The numbers eight and 40 are incorporated into the music on many levels. For example, the first of the four main sections is 40-measures long and consists of 40 rhythmic entry points. Later in the movement, the full five-voice ensemble intones a series of eight chords equaling 40 individual pitches.

The second movement is based on the Nathaniel Felton, Sr. House (Peabody–1644). (Nathaniel defiantly defended his neighbor, John Proctor, during the witch trials.) Over the years, additions were added to the building in typical “telescoping” fashion. While no longer extant, this addition methodology forms the basis for the movement’s musical construction. The central movement is based on the House of the Seven Gables (Turner-Ingersoll mansion, Salem–ca. 1668), and is set as a symmetrical seven-part rondo reflecting the contour of the well-known roofline. This historic building provded the inspiration for Hawthorne’s famous novel from which the popular name of this structure is derived. While not overtly programmatic, the music does evoke the oppressive gloom of the novel, progressing to a corresponding lightening of mood at its conclusion.

The fourth movement is based on the Rev. John Wise House (Essex–1701), which reflects the eminently practical nature of post-and-beam construction, where additions were built on as need for space and money allowed. Faint but evident traces of the evolution of this structure appear in various places throughout the house, providing quiet testimony to the “living” nature of the residence. In line with the historic narrative, the Rev. John Wise was a strong advocate of democracy and “no taxation without representation,” providing a key point of inspiration for the later Founding Fathers. He supported Increase Mather’s attempts to ban “spectral evidence” from use in the witch trials, and later attempted to have the convictions reversed. The final movement draws its inspiration from the First Religious Society (Newburyport–1801). The spire of this venerable structure is a prominent landmark in this coastal town, visible from all directions. The church, now a Unitarian Universalist congregation, has roots that stretch back to the 1630s, and is a living descendant of the earliest settlers in Massachusetts. The proportions of this beautiful spire are translated into the proportions of the movement, ending with the “squeak” of the weathercock at its pinnacle.

Aboreal Memories is a lyrical, single-movement work for large orchestra. The music juxtaposes two main ideas that are motivically related—yet texturally differientiated. These two ideas are additionally contrasted by slow-moving connective material that articulates the main pitch-class segments, based on augmented triads (the Ur-chord), from which all the motives are derived. The music unfolds in a tripart structure with concluding coda, ending on a soft 12-tone cluster in the strings, articulating the definitive arrangement of the Ur-chord. The work was written for David Hoose and the Boston University Symphony Orchestra.

Written for, and premiered by, Theodore Antoniou and Alea III, the piece was part of a joint commissioning project for a multi-movement work by former students of Lukas Foss (1922–2009) for a memorial concert. The work involves a motive based on the opening phrase of the Horst Wessel Lied, an Nazi anthem that Foss heard in Berlin as a youth, and later quoted in his work Curriculum Vitae with Time-Bomb.

Written for pianist, Shiela Kibbe, and harpist, Barbara Poeschl-Edrich, the quartet explores the sonic resources of this unique ensemble. The title is the closing line of an anonymous Scots ballad, The Twa Corbies. In the poem, the narrator overhears two ravens discussing their next meal—a slain knight, abandoned by his hawk, hound and even, lover. The contradictory themes of loss juxtaposed with the continuity of life, are echoed in the divergent musical material of the work.

The title of the quintet, Gloaming in perpetuum, is taken from the second line of a seasonal haiku on winter, written by the composer. The work’s completion coincided with the death of the composer’s mother, Alta, to whom it is dedicated. The original intent of the line, expressing the endless quality of twilight experienced in winter, can also be understood as a metaphor for our memories, where lost loved-ones live on in the half-light of remembrance.

leaden skies threaten
gloaming in perpetuum
dull light, without heat

Written for the Boston-based, Arcadian Winds, the single-movement work is divided into three main sections of a linear, lyrical, quality, interspersed with two interruptions, set in a more angular, disjunct fashion. As the music progresses, silence takes on a more pronounced importance. The work ends on a single, plaintive, note in the oboe’s upper register.

Based on selections from the poem Winter, by the Scots poet, James Thomson, Thus Winter Falls is a three-movement work for SATB chorus. (Haydn’s oratorio, The Seasons, also sets sections of the same poem, in a multiply-translated version assembled by the Viennese patron and diplomat, Baron Gottfried van Swieten.) This setting reflects the bleak character of the original text in passages describing the transition from late afternoon to early evening in winter, (“When from the Pallid Sky,” lines 118-129), the deleterious effect of the onset of winter on one’s psyche, (“In Sable Cincture,” lines 54-62), and wonder in the magical results of winter’s effect on the elements, (“From Pole to Pole,” lines 742-753).

Exploring a post-minimal texture of a driving rhythmic pulse, combined with complex jazz and rock-influenced cross-rhythms and cinematographic cross-cuts, Summer Mosaics develops a series of short motives through statement, disintegration and recombination. The main motivic cell, derived from the first of Schubert’s Sechs Moments Musicaux, consists of the interval of a descending minor third (G–E), set against the same pitches in an ascending statement (E–G). All subsequent contrasting material in the work evolves from this simple motive. Summer Mosaics was written for saxophonist Richard A. Schwartz and the 2004 Tanglewood Institute.

Sangis off Wyntir sets three stanzas from the poem, Meditatioun in Wyntir, by the late-15th century Scots poet, William Dunbar, in the famous Scots Makkars dialect. The stanzas are set to a different, traditional Scots folk tune in each of three separate movements. The first movement employs the Gaelic lament, “Bheir mo shoraidh thar ghunnaidh,” which in the original, tells the story of bitter loss over a lover’s death. Three laments of the late-18th century renown fiddler/composer, Niel Gow, interleave to form the second movement. The text is set to the “Lamentation for James Moray, Esq. of Abercarney,” layered with the “Lament for his Second Wife” in the flute, and the “Lament for the Death of his Brother Donald” in the viola, in different tempos and meters, all over a calm, yet relentless ostinato in the harp. The third and final movement treats the popular 18th-century “Macpherson’s Rant,” including at one point, the refrain in triple canon in heterophony between the voice, flute and viola, against the harp quietly intoning the verse. The work ends with the return of hope at the promise of the reappearance of Summer, with a fusion of motives from the rant, woven with a strathspey and reel of the 19th-century composer, Alexander Walker. Written for the Chicago-based ensemble, Pinotage, the settings exploit the similarity of the ensemble’s instrumentation with the traditional celtic folk-ensemble.

The finale of Frank Lloyd Wright, a projected three-act opera based on the artistic life of the great American twentieth-century architect, explores the dual themes of reflection and resignation. The scene takes place at a college school of architecture commencement ceremony. Almost completely devoid of physical action, the drama of the scene unfolds on a psychological plane. The octogenarian Wright muses on the current state of architecture, and the future that awaits his young audience. In doing so, he reflects on his own journey in the field, recalling his personal need to break with the stranglehold of derivative neo-classicism that reigned supreme as he began his career. More fundamentally, he expresses his lifelong quest to free architecture from the confining principles of post-and-lintel construction, basing a new indigenous American architecture on the inspiration he found in nature.

Mirroring the eleven-part subdivision of the libretto, the overall structure of the scene creates a large arch shape, comprised of various historical forms, recitatives and interludes, interrelated in a symmetrical pattern. The introduction acts as a prelude, during which Wright enters, processing to the podium where he begins his remarks. The odd-numbered sections act as connective tissue, separating the more reflective, even-numbered sections, consisting of a sonata, rondo, da capo aria, cavatina and passacaglia.

The scene revolves around the central da capo aria, set in a sardonic neo-classical style, in a quasi-fantasy episode, where Wright, struggling to regain his composure after an almost complete breakdown, launches into a diatribe against the architectural world in which he was ensconced at the start of his career. His energies largely spent, the remainder of the scene involves an increasing output of introspective and largely fragmentary personal reminiscences, concluding with Wright’s acceptance of his failing faculties, and eventual death. For Wright, the cantilever, as seen in the broad horizontal projections of tree limbs and overhanging outcroppings of natural stone formations, formed the foundation of his new architectural paradigm. Utilizing the cantilever, he produced works with gravity-defying projections which float in space. With Wright recalling this powerful image of the fusion of technology and art, the work concludes.

The three sections of the work, all with text by the Scots poet Hugh MacDiarmid, form a seamless whole. Drawn from MacDiarmid’s vast output of poetry, the cycle takes its name from the title of the first poem in the setting. Combined with an eye towards a commonality of idea rather than a conventional narrative thrust, these three poems nevertheless form a powerful, highly-evocative thread of the poet’s literary leitmotives, filled with vivid visual imagery of nature, time, space and stars. The setting of the first poem treats both the vocal part and accompaniment in an expository, quasi-recitative-like manner. The second setting continues to develop the motivic material, with the voice undertaking a more expansive, lyrical tack. The final setting, structured as a passacaglia, continues the motivic development, treating the voice in a fluid, rhapsodic manner. Having continuously progressed upward from the low rumblings at the beginning of the third section, the passacaglia chords end the work in the highest register, disintegrating into splintered shards of bell-like sounds, uniting an earlier motive associated with stars, with the previously somber passacaglia chords—“Oblivion and Eternity together.”

Written for the Chicago Clarinet Trio, this work explores the sonic possibilities of the combination of an Eb, A and bass clarinet, as well as personal impressions of the musical personalities of the players for which it was written. The work opens on a sonority built on the written low E of each of the three transposing instruments, resulting in the pitches C#–D–G. Derived from this trichord, octatonic scales and a twelve-tone set form the basis of the harmonic and melodic structures of the work. Built around brief solo passages for each of the instruments, the work is framed by an expository introduction and short coda, which briefly restates the opening material. The work progresses through a series of metric modulations of increasing speed from beginning to end, concluding in a flurry of boisterous counterpoint.

Informed by the infectious exuberance and technical prowess of Chicago Symphony Orchestra assistant principal and Eb clarinetist, John Bruce Yeh, the first solo passage consists of a recitative-like solo (for bass clarinet) covering a large portion of the instrument’s considerable range. The second solo section for Eb clarinet, with etudesque scales and arpeggiations, takes a tongue-in-cheek nod at Director of Leblanc Clarinets and frequent CSO sub, Julie DeRoche’s reputation as a pedagog of exacting musical standards. Featured last, the solo passage for A clarinet represents a plaintive homage to the warm tone and elegant musicality of principal CSO clarinetist, Larry Combs.

Taking the six partitas and sonatas of Bach as a point of departure, Preludio continually develops a small group of motivic cells, processed in various rhythmic and melodic guises, creating the overall shape of the single-movement work. While certainly playable on the modern violin, the work was written with the Baroque violin in mind, maintaining the rather narrow range typical of the solo violin music of that period. The considerable number of double stops are principally concerned with presenting multiple lines in a contrapuntal texture, while the less frequent quadruple stops carry a decidedly harmonic implication. The drone-like motive employing an open string combined with a second voice that moves above and below the drone, manifests another aspect of the simultaneous use of multiple strings.

This electronic work derives its title and original source material from a cut on Robert Plant’s 1990 solo album, MANIC NIRVANA, entitled Tie Dye on the Highway, which itself opens with a quote from 60’s hippie icon, Wavy Gravy. A beat poet and court jester of the counter-culture generation, Wavy Gravy is best known as the Master-of-Ceremonies at the Woodstock festival in 1969, (and to a younger demographic, as a flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.) Plant quotes the famous announcement: “Good morning—what we had in mind was breakfast in bed for 400,000!” Subjected to a phase vocoder procedure in the software package CSound, this quote-within-a-quote results in an “analysis” file that allows for further manipulation—simultaneously and independently—of both frequency and duration. (Before software like CSound, increasing the speed of a sound clip necessarily increased its frequency as well. Think Alvin and the Chipmunks.) The independent manipulation of both of these parameters yields an enormous quantity of disparate sounds from which this piece develops. Peace, love, dove, baby!

Evocative rather than descriptive, the programmatic titles of the three movements of this string quartet were added after the work’s completion. While rigorously serial, the work strives for a spontaneity and directness of musical expression associated with works based on the application of a less-structured musical language, constantly reinterpreting a small core of material in, metaphorically, different light. The brief and aphoristic first movement alternates between long sinuous lines and fleeting pizzicato gestures. The second movement further develops this material, juxtaposing it in expansive aural plains that transition from dense counterpoint to sparse isolation, ending on a thick repeated double-stop chord in the upper voices. Offset in time from the cello, each restatement of the chord comes closer in time to the cello, until eventually becoming one. The final movement bathes the material in the effervescence of shimmering ponticello tremolos and harmonics.

The Exquisite Corpse musically adapts the surrealist/aleatoric game of cadavre exquis (exquisite corpse), where a phrase of text, or more likely, a partial segment of a drawing, is passed between participants, with only a small fragment of their contribution showing. Each subsequent player continues the drawing (or text) before passing their partially exposed segment on to the next player, who in turn continues the process until all the participants have contributed to the work.

For this piece of music, each member of the consortium, in sequence, wrote a minute of music, continuing what was written by the previous composer. Only the last two or three measures of each section was revealed to each subsequent composer. In addition, any technical information necessary for those measures was included—such as whether the cello was to be played pizzicato, whether the alto flute was in need of a break, or whether one of the percussionists had their hands full. After each composer finished their section, the piece made a return trip in reverse order, this time consisting of half-minute sections. Finally, the individual segments of the manuscript were assembled to form the whole.

Written for a Chicago Composers’ Consortium concert with guest ensemble Nozzle, Demon Dreams of Electric Fairies imbraces the sound-world of Frank Zappa, with all of its diverse influences. Juxtaposed against a driving, distortion-ridden heavy-metal backdrop, the work incorporates stylized, asymmetrical rhythmic riffs with a dark text reminiscent of the sound of Ozzy Osbourne and the seminal heavy-metal band, Black Sabbath.

The three movements of this work run directly into each other with no breaks, providing the architectural structure within which the music unfolds. The music itself plays on the contrast between dense blocks of kinetic energy and sparse, static textures, gradually revealing their interrelationship as related objects located at various points on a continuum. The areas of greatest density yield their energy in brief sonic paroxysms that unravel in time at speeds of transition proportional to the intensity of their output. The gradual unfolding of the stasis material kaleidoscopically refracts the chromatic spectra of the individual pitches, subsuming what came before in an ever-changing progression of aural color. The serial aspects of pitch succession, registration and rhythm are manipulated to produce melodic and harmonic structures of a recognizable motivic nature. The work is dedicated to DePaul Wind Ensemble conductor and performance department chair, Donald DeRoche, who conducted the ensemble in the premiere.

The Piano Quintet was written during the first four months of 1991—coincidentally, beginning with the outbreak of ground fighting during the (first) Persian Gulf War. The harmonic/melodic structure, as well as the respective internal structure of the three movements, is based on the well-known “B–A–C–H” twelve-tone set that Webern used in the Streichquartett, Op. 28. The texture is highly contrapuntal—though bearing a more immediate resemblance to the choral motets and masses of Palestrina than the contrapuntal music of Bach himself. The rhythmic content of the music is highly restrained, employing palindromic structures in large blocks of fixed registration, resulting in a quiet, tranquil, free-flowing quality—in stark contrast to the tumultuous period of world events in which it was written.

The music is soft throughout, focusing the listener’s attention on the smallest level of detail, magnifying small contrasts to a high level of importance. The first movement consists of densely-textured contrapuntal sections, juxtaposing blocks for full ensemble with rhapsodic interruptions of block chords by solo piano, fusing the material together by the end of the movement. The second movement utilizes pizzicato strings throughout, creating a much-needed contrast to the heavier outer movements. The light texture of the movement is interrupted, again by solo piano, with sections of a sustained bell-like quality. The final movement further develops material from the previous movements, melding the dense counterpoint and block chordal ideas of the first movement with the bell-like material of the second movement.

A single-movement work for large orchestra, Symphonia was one of three winners of the Civic Orchestra of Chicago’s 1990 Illinois Composer’s Reading Sessions, coordinated by John Corigliano, Chicago Symphony Orchestra Composer-In-Residence, and conducted by Michael Morgan. Emerging out of a low rumbling in the orchestra, the work treats a small cadre of motivic cells through an ever-changing sequence of developmental episodes until reaching a point of maximum density and complexity. From this apex, the music gently devolves, eventually moving through a gossamer web of shimmering upper strings, to return to the quiet obscurity of the opening sounds.