I’m pleased to announce that International Orange Chorale (San Francisco) has asked me to be their Composer in Residence for this upcoming season. (I said yes.)

You may remember IOC as the choir that premiered my piece O Child in 2018. I was so delighted to get a piece on their program, as I had been to several of their concerts and consider them one of the best choirs in the SF Bay Area—not just the bestly-named chorus in the Bay Area. (They take their name from the official paint color of the Golden Gate Bridge, FYI.)

So you can imagine how happy I am to have the opportunity to work very closely with them this year. The residency will have two parts:

1. IOC will perform my piece A Prayer in Spring on their June program.
2. I will compose a new piece, text TBD, for their fall concerts. 

Please save one of these dates (or both, go nuts) for the June concerts:

Saturday, June 6, 2020 at 7:30 PM, East Bay
Saturday, June 20, 2020 at 7:30 PM, San Francisco

Exact locations TBA—I’ll let you know as soon as I know. I’ll be attending the June 6 concert (but will have to miss the June 20 concert, alas). 

More to come! 

Speaking of O Child: this past December, Accord Treble Choir premiered the women’s chorus version of the piece.

Shortly after the premiere of Mass for Freedom with the Oakland Symphony and Chorus last April, I received an e-mail from the orchestra’s trombonist, Don Benham. Thanks for the cool solo in the Agnus Dei, he said. And would I like to write a piece for his chamber trio, Noyo Consort, for their concert at the Mendocino Music Festival in 2021?

Of course, I said. What’s the instrumentation? Flute, trombone, and piano, he replied. 

Say what? I’d never heard of a flute, trombone, and piano trio. Could this seemingly odd combination of instruments actually sound, you know…good ? 

I tried to find videos on YouTube. I found exactly one, and a not very helpful one at that. I searched Apple Music. No dice. 

It was at that point I remembered I’d been writing nothing but vocal music for several years. I’d grown accustomed to having a text point me in the right musical direction. But here I was in the musical wilderness—no compass, no map, just the idea of a flute, a trombone, and a piano together somewhere, dancing harmoniously in a mythical forest glen. I felt like Link in that old Legend of Zelda commercial: “Which way to go?”

Then I remembered that I do have something useful, something I often forget about when composing starts to feel more like problem-solving: an imagination. Maybe I don’t need a map. Maybe I can just make stuff up as I go along. See what happens. Hack a path through the woods. If I hit a wall, I can turn around and hack another one. 

So that’s what I’ve done, and I have indeed hit a wall—several times. Each time, I’ve learned a little bit more about this unique combination of instruments. And, I think, each new path has been a bit wider than the last, a bit straighter, a bit more promising. 

I’m still on the most recent of those paths, and definitely the most promising so far. It feels like that mythical glen is, perhaps, just over the next rise.