This is a piece for two marimbas.  This was my response to learning about minimalism.  There's a lot of numeric complexity buried in this piece, as most of the rhythms were constructed mathematically using the Fibonacci Sequence.

Fibonacci's Jungle

This was the first piece I wrote in college with the intention of being actually performed.  And I did eventually perform it at the end of year concert my first year.  For those who know what a passacaglia is and are confused, I did it in ABA form where the B section deviates from the pattern to explore different keys and meters before returning back to the original.

Passacaglia in B Minor

This was my first real attempt at a purely electronic piece.  I did some analysis of some of my favorite electronic songs/pieces before I took this one on to try and figure out how to go about it.  I think it went pretty well for a first try

Saumera

This is the first movement of a symphony I never finished for string orchestra (and later, choir).  It was supposed to be broken into four movements: motion, beauty, chaos, and transience.  At the time, those were my four essential truths.  It doesn't make as much sense to me anymore, but it was supposed to be like Everything moves, beauty will always exist, chaos always exists, and nothing is permanent.

Symphony For The Lost- First Movement (Motion)

This is the second movement of that same unfinished symphony.  This one is supposed to represent all that is beautiful, and how sporadic beauty is.  Look at that, isn't it pretty?  Now look at that! etc.  I added a wordless choir to this movement for coloristic effect.

Symphony For The Lost- Second Movement (Beauty)

I redid Intense Encounters for orchestra after I upgraded my sound library and this is the result

Intense Encounters of the Second Kind

A piece I wrote for Christmas this year incorporating 4 of my favorite Christmas (or associated with Christmas) tunes.  I guess for categorization's sake, you could call it a Fender Rhodes Concerto in the loosest sense.

0:00: Intro 
2:00: Carol of the Bells 
4:28: Greensleeves 
6:17: O Holy Night 
10:08: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas 
14:26: Simultaneous Quodlibet (all 4 at once)

An Ode to Christmas (2011)

Where 18th Century fugal counterpoint meets Dubstep and Drum 'N Bass.  Heavily influenced by Noisia and inspired by NI's soft synth software Massive.

Insidious

This is my first ever rap song.  I wrote it in a frantic craze one night when I couldn't sleep.  The beat largely uses samples from my piece Winter flipped forwards and backwards and such.  Anyways, here are the lyrics:

My mind is like a bowl of soup
Luke warm and cooling faster
If you're scanning for answers
Don't glance at me or your masters
Steel casters with real plastic, 
A faster way in, way out

So stay shouting the way 
your mouth finds the words, the verbs
heard stirred occurred in thirds
and then in threes
I scraped my knees digging through trees
hidden by these Didn't-Know-Nothin's
fronting muddy skunk stank

The drunk tank's holding chum yanks
bank bars to bars
sparring "warmest regards" 
to Charles in Charge
marking large, hard central digits
I meant "who did it?" who hit it and quit it
and left us with the payments?

So scale it back like flaccid pricks
find new acid kicks and mask the tricks 
pulled thick and gaseous; a stick molasses of deception.
We're passing funerals for our sickly asses 
and you're bashing a mother fucking reception

Yo, bust a couple Mars bars while you're
tarring for the farce guards to charge hard
with large cards
On par, it's hard to believe their flops
are still running
hunting funny stories to stop us spotting
hot pots of their money glory

"Morning glories mourn in glory"
he said in spoil
then he pays three ways for
threeways with banks, guns and oil
so flip that hippie spit, dip
and skip-cross the street
find the beat, mind your feet, nice and neat
like Dewars, white

Watch the cops drop pops, spot dots, 
and knob tots that fought with rocks and hotspots
and not give a clay-pigeon fuck.
Stay hidden, face bitten, bass kicking
snare cracking fast like the chance
our futures pass a happenstance.

At a glance I'd say we're fucked 
three ways to Sunday
One day our savior rolls up a Hyundai
sporting sun rays
Spitting hate on the done ways 
like Garfield slackin' Mondays, 
then pulls his hand to say 
"If only you had the funds, eh?"

(Chorus)
Charged

maxing credit, Fed it lending

Charged

money funding scummy cunning

Charged

bound in bars, and penguin cars

Charged

shady trading country running

x2

But honestly nothing bothers me like
my own god damn mediocrity
the hypocrisy of watching my own life
try to talk to me while I 
scoff at the tots in the back
docking in their boxer briefs

Beats knock, sheep flock, guns cock-
block their own freedoms, the heathens
breathing heavily, seething readily, 
eating featherless, like McGriddle
I'm barking "hark it, Margaret
have a lark at this fucking riddle."

"What woolly stooge chose your moody blues?
which holy sage you made your satin knight?"
I'll wait, chatting ripe and you pitch your
black and white, Latin-piping King James 
to sing names in fucking flames.

Your waning claims to sane remain your scrutiny
the mental self-mutiny dutily rooting
the useless things out of you
As for me and my mediocre pedigree, 
we'll find our own way out...

(Chorus) x2

Nick Coronado