MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: all music
Recorded at Lux Astralis, New York

HANUSSEN: The Enigmatic Clairvoyant - An Opera

HANUSSEN - An Opera (Act V)

MUSICIANS
John Beckmann: all music
Dämmerungschor: vocals
Recorded at Lux Astralis, New York
Jonas W. Karlsson: mastering
Henkka Niemistö Mastering, Helsinki, and Los Angeles

HANUSSEN - An Opera (Act III)

HANUSSEN - An Opera (Act IV)

Performed by Erica Dicker (violin), and Mabel Kwan (piano)
July 25, 2023
The Walden School

Fractured Time (2023) for violin and prepared piano

Contemporary-classical piece for violin and piano, for the soundtrack of an experimental poetic short film.

The earth within

Work for Symphonic Orchestra in three movements

My Method of Composing and Producing

I'm sharing my method of composing and producing music recordings in case other composer-producers like me might find ideas worth exploring in their own work. I use this method for Classical, Avant-Pop or Neo-Folk Instrumental genres, not for Ambient and Soundscape pieces. Non-composers might find this explanation interesting, but having a bit of music theory background will definitely help. I consider myself a humble learner when it comes to music theory. 

I owe a debt of gratitude to British musician and educator Gareth Green, whose Music Matters online courses and free YouTube lessons have taught me so much over the past few years. Thanks to his instruction, I’ve moved from struggling to compose music by trial and error to something more enjoyable and productive. The knowledge I've gained has taken my work in new and expanding directions. As the saying goes, “Theory is not a cage — it’s a map. It doesn’t make the journey for you, but it keeps you from getting lost.” 

When I start a new piece, I begin by choosing a key, and picking a scale drawn from one of these sources:
 
1) Western Tonal / Functional Harmony - major or minor chords I II III IV V VI VII
2) Modal Harmony - Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, etc.
3) Slonimsky's "Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns" 
4) Messiaen’s "Seven Modes of Limited Transposition" 

For many pieces, I also decide on a progression, one as a simple as I IV V, or something more elaborate.  

Next I create a "scales and progressions" piano track in my DAW (digital audio workstation software) and enter the chords I to VII in my chosen key. These harmonized scales serve as a basis for writing multipart harmonies and finding pivot chords for key modulations. 

At the start, I know what instruments I want to use, making adjustments along the way. I tend to write chord parts first, then melodies created through a mix of improvisation and direct input in the DAW. Sometimes I start with a melody.

I develop melodies and variations of a phrase by some combination of: a) passing it from one instrument to another, transposing it by an interval that sounds pleasing, b) reversing it, c) inverting it around the tonic (first) note of the scale. These are well-known methods. 

After completing a section, I choose another scale and maybe a new key and repeat the process until I have a draft of the entire piece. Then I export a recording and listen to it “offline”, take notes of errors and new ideas, and incorporate them back into the piece. Often this “compose / listen / compose” cycle is repeated many times. These iterative cycles include adding new ideas, polishing transitions between sections, changing the arrangement, and incorporating expressive details like accents, and articulations (staccato, sustain, portato etc.). I’m often working several different pieces at once. 

Last is mixing and mastering: balancing the loudness between instruments and adjusting elements like reverb, compression, and equalization. I tend to mix as I compose, even though many producers frown on that approach. I find mixing as I go helps me envision the completed piece and make adjustments to the choice of instruments; it self-inspires me when the piece is starting to sound good.  At the end I do a final mix, but as the saying goes, “A mix is never finished — it’s surrendered.”

In the end, this method gives me a basis for exploration and creativity and helps me stay focused. The goal is always to make a piece of music that feels expressive, cohesive, and emotionally resonant.

Orchestral Suite 2024 No. 2 mvt-1

Charlie Zhong
two lines converge into a vanishing point off-center (2024)
reading by the 2024 BUTI Young Artists Orchestra

Program note:

“It is axiomatic that the point of convergence should appear to be identical with the center of the field of vision of the viewer, which is, of course, the total area of the picture. When this is not the case; that is, when the vanishing point is off-center, the picture plane is felt by the viewer to be at an angle, or diagonal placed relative to his own position, and an oblique view of the scene results.”
- Jean Gillies on Edward Hopper’s Gas, JSTOR
 
 
“The maker of a drawing asks us to imagine ourselves standing in the center of a street, staring straight down its length, and yet seeing clearly what we are not looking at”
- Philip J. Lawson on the “abuse of parallel perspective,” Practical Perspective Drawing, 1943
 
 
"two lines converge into a vanishing point off-center" explores the ambiguity found in Edward Hopper’s oil paintings; the sense of inescapable gravity that pulls the viewer into a vanishing point, only to fall short of clarity and be approached by nothing but emptiness.

Charlie Zhong
July 2024

two lines converge into a vanishing point off-center (2024)

to the intangible
version for clarinet, viola, cello, guitar

performed June 27th, 2023 by
Colin Roshak - clarinet
Will Hawkins - viola
Chris Wild - cello
Carlos Henrique Pereira - guitar
The Walden School
Dublin, NH

Program note:
“It had immediately rendered the vicissitudes of life unimportant to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory… It is face-to-face with something that does not yet exist and that only it can accomplish, then bring into its light … But it is struggling too far away, too confusedly; I can just barely perceive the neutral glimmer in which the elusive eddying of stirred-up colors is blended; but I cannot distinguish the form, cannot ask it.”
- Marcel Proust, "In Search of Lost Time," Vol. 1, trans. Lydia Davis

This piece is about the feeling of reaching for something, the sense of longing for something whose existence one can only feel yet is just barely out of ones grasp; perhaps a memory from the past, or maybe a made-up image from ones imagination.

to the intangible (2023)

to be paired with dancing aliens and their mating rituals. live version coming this summer

alien mating rituals first completed draft (midi)

A virtuosic piano composition that transforms technical mastery into pure emotional storytelling. "Dreams in Motion" features lightning-fast arpeggios weaving through intricate melodic passages, while dramatic dynamic contrasts paint a sonic landscape of romance and passion.
The piece showcases advanced pianistic techniques through dazzling hand-crossing passages that dance across the entire keyboard, complemented by blistering octave runs that surge with unbridled energy. Bold harmonic accents punctuate the flowing melodic lines, creating moments of breathtaking intensity amid the delicate romantic textures.
This composition explores the intersection of technical virtuosity and emotional depth, where every rapid passage serves the greater narrative of dreams taking flight. The music ebbs and flows like consciousness itself - sometimes whisper-soft and contemplative, other times exploding with passionate fervor.

Inspired by classical romantic composers

Dreams in Motion

https://www.charliezhong.com/recordings/labyrinthe
Read by the New Fromm string quartet
July 12, 2024
Lenox, MA

Program note:
Labyrinthe was inspired by a poem of the same name by Francis Picabia, found in his poetry collection, Poèmes et Dessins de la Fille Née Sans Mère. Labyrinthe explores attraction and searching - an attraction without progression; a journey without destination; a searching without finding. Labyrinthe explores a deep confinement of thought. 

La volonté attend sans cesse
Un désir sans trouver.
…
Une cicatrice vers la nuit
profane la réflexion.
Il n’y a que détachement
incrédule.
On me fait souffrir
parce que je sais l’indifférence
Banalités embarquées sans cesse
sur elles-mêmes:
Les horizons attirent les yeux
de nos sentiments


The will is constantly waiting
A desire without finding
…
A scar to the night
profanes the reflection.
There is only detachment
incredulous.
They made me suffer
because I know indifference.
Banalities set constantly at sail
upon each other.
The horizons attract the eyes
of our sentiments.

Labyrinthe (2024)

Scene 3 from the cycle Chains of Sorrow.
The Footbridge is written in a Neo-Classical / Modern Classical style — a hybrid of traditional aria form with contemporary textures. Rather than staged opera, it functions as a concert aria, blending baritone solo and male chorus with chamber ensemble (strings, harp, winds, and subtle percussion).

The piece explores a moment of suspended recognition: the awareness that choices must be made, though clarity never arrives. The baritone voice carries self-questioning phrases, answered and expanded by the chorus, while the orchestration shifts between hushed reflection and urgent surges.

Not tragic but reflective, the music dwells in ambiguity, carrying the listener into the tension between doubt and resilience.

[LYRICS]

Dark were the days of deep despair,
White were the nights of solace rare;
I stood where shadows veil the air,
And sorrow’s weight consumed me there.

I stand between two roads of old,
Each with promise, bright and bold;
The bridge beneath bears not a name,
Yet none who cross return the same.

No guide remains, no hand to lead,
The heart must guard its quiet need;
For choices cut and choices bind,
But silence cuts the deepest kind.

The vessel empties, poured out free;
The stream runs dry, cut from its source.
To walk this path, I must be still;
To bear the weight, I keep my course.

What heart can give when thirsts in vain?
What hand can heal when bound by pain?
I drink from silence, breathe like tide,
That I may stand where paths divide.

The vessel empties, poured out free;
The stream runs dry, cut from its source.
To walk this path, I must be steady;
To bear the weight, I keep my course.

The vessel must fill ere it pour,
The root must drink to bloom once more.

The vessel must fill ere it pour,
The root must drink to bloom once more.

The fog awaits with quiet hand,
To test the path, to mark the stand.

I crossed the bridge, then turned around,
Unsure which side was truly mine;
The fog then curled and closed around,
And blurred each boundary line.

I crossed the bridge, then turned again,
Unsure which side was ever mine;
The fog then veiled the path I trod,
And blurred all boundary lines.

The rail was cold beneath my hand,
As the river rolled dark below;
Its voice was low, a mournful strand,
And echoed what I’ve come to know.

The rail was cold beneath my hand,
As the river rolled dark below;
Its voice was low, yet deeper still,
And echoed what I’ve come to know.

Not every road is meant to show
Its ending from the very start;
But fog is kind to those who wait
And listen with a faithful heart.

A bell rang, time drawn in to full,
A boat slipped slowly out of view;
I felt the moment strain and pull,
Yet still I never truly knew.

Two sides, two lives, both calling out,
Yet neither one could give me peace.
The bridge became a place of doubt,
Where second thoughts find no release.

Not every road is meant to show
Its ending from the very start;
But fog is kind to those who wait
And listen with a faithful heart.

Some choices bloom like morning light,
While others drift like distant mist.
The wiser path is rarely bright,
Yet still a truer way will persist.

Not every road is meant to show
Its ending from the start.

But still I crossed that bridge again,
And followed what I knew was right;
And doubt itself can lead us home—
Yes, at the last, it leads us home.

The self must feed, the self must grow,
Or none may walk where choices go.
For silence guides and silence shows,
The strength that every spirit owes.

The self must feed, the self must grow,
Or none may walk where choices go.


A1-S3 The Footbridge – Aria da Concerto (Baritone • Reflective • Neo-Classical)

Portraits: Tommaso

🕊️ Where The Birds Gather Before Their Passage South
The leaves wear their late-season glow, mist drapes the fields like breath, and the first birds begin to gather — circling in silence above the treetops, readying themselves for the long journey south. It is a moment of transition: summer has faded, the day leans into dusk, and the wind begins to whisper of distant warmth.

The music follows this quiet movement, not with haste, but with remembrance. Its sounds unfold like light dissolving into stillness — gentle, breathing, full of foreboding. What fades does so not abruptly, but like a thought slowly slipping away. And as all things retreat into slumber, a long sleep begins — not as an end, but as a promise: that something will return, when the time is right.

Where The Birds Gather Before Their Passage South

As Wolf Hagen, I compose music for the silence between the notes. Drawing from the tradition of great masters like Bach and Pachelbel, I find inspiration to weave baroque clarity with the emotional complexity of our time.
The interplay of piano and cello stands at the heart of my work – two voices that complement, challenge, and exist in harmonic tension with each other. I add orchestral elements with care, never to dominate, but to open spaces: for reflection, for stillness, for those precious moments of pause.
My compositions are not statements, but invitations – to discover hidden emotions, to find quiet in a noisy world.

I’ve always lived at the crossroads of music and poetry — where feeling becomes form, and melody turns memory into meaning. Whether it’s a lingering jazz note, a well-placed rhyme, or a shift in tempo that tells a deeper story, I’m drawn to that quiet magic where art reflects life with a little more style.

My roots are in classic music — the kind that doesn’t chase the moment but lingers with you long after the last note. Over time, that love expanded into poetry writing and jazz — especially the kind that swings, speaks, and smirks all at once. Jazz, to me, isn’t just a genre; it’s a personality. A conversation. A little tilt of the head and a grin that knows more than it says.

When I set out to create an album, it’s rarely just a collection of songs. I approach it like a personal playlist — one that drifts and flows as if the entire tracklist were one long, uninterrupted piece. Each track leans into the next, shifting mood, pace, or voice, but always carrying the same thread of feeling. I want you to listen the way I do — not as a shuffle of moments, but as a cinematic arc. One breath that lasts an hour.

Lyrically, my work is rooted in lived experience. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times it’s just the skeleton of a memory, dressed up in wit, irony, or longing. I draw from real-life events, then let the poet in me twist, stretch, or sweeten them to taste. Depending on the tone of the album — playful, romantic, nostalgic, or something in between — I try to keep the emotional truth intact while giving it a fresh coat of creativity. A little humor where it fits. A deeper dive where it hurts.

My newest jazz album continues this tradition — short-lined swing tracks, conversational duets, and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. It’s an homage to late-night alleyway ballads, rooftop serenades, and train station goodbyes — all bound together with a sense of charm and cohesion. Each song is its own little scene, but together they tell a story — one you can revisit with each replay.

Thanks for stopping by my profile. I hope you find something that earns a spot on your repeat-play list — a melody, a lyric, or a moment that feels like it was written just for you.

I am a composer and producer of instrumental music in several genres, including ambient soundscapes, electronica, orchestral and chamber music.  

Musical influences include John Coltrane, Igor Stravinsky, Gustav Holst, Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel, Tangerine Dream, Robert Prince, Frank Zappa, Brian Eno, Heinrich Ignaz, Franz von Biber.

My Method of Composing and Producing
------------------------------------------
I'm sharing my method of composing and producing music recordings in case other composer-producers like me might find ideas worth exploring in their own work. I use this method for Classical, Avant-Pop or Neo-Folk Instrumental genres, not for Ambient and Soundscape pieces. Non-composers might find this explanation interesting, but having a bit of music theory background will definitely help. I consider myself a humble learner when it comes to music theory. 

I owe a debt of gratitude to British musician and educator Gareth Green, whose Music Matters online courses and free YouTube lessons have taught me so much over the past few years. Thanks to his instruction, I’ve moved from struggling to compose music by trial and error to something more enjoyable and productive. The knowledge I've gained has taken my work in new and expanding directions. As the saying goes, “Theory is not a cage — it’s a map. It doesn’t make the journey for you, but it keeps you from getting lost.” 

When I start a new piece, I begin by choosing a key, and picking a scale drawn from one of these sources:
 
1) Western Tonal / Functional Harmony - major or minor chords I II III IV V VI VII
2) Modal Harmony - Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, etc.
3) Slonimsky's "Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns" 
4) Messiaen’s "Seven Modes of Limited Transposition" 

For many pieces, I also decide on a progression, one as a simple as I IV V, or something more elaborate.  

Next I create a "scales and progressions" piano track in my DAW (digital audio workstation software) and enter the chords I to VII in my chosen key. These harmonized scales serve as a basis for writing multipart harmonies and finding pivot chords for key modulations. 

At the start, I know what instruments I want to use, making adjustments along the way. I tend to write chord parts first, then melodies created through a mix of improvisation and direct input in the DAW. Sometimes I start with a melody.

I develop melodies and variations of a phrase by some combination of: a) passing it from one instrument to another, transposing it by an interval that sounds pleasing, b) reversing it, c) inverting it around the tonic (first) note of the scale. These are well-known methods. 

After completing a section, I choose another scale and maybe a new key and repeat the process until I have a draft of the entire piece. Then I export a recording and listen to it “offline”, take notes of errors and new ideas, and incorporate them back into the piece. Often this “compose / listen / compose” cycle is repeated many times. These iterative cycles include adding new ideas, polishing transitions between sections, changing the arrangement, and incorporating expressive details like accents, and articulations (staccato, sustain, portato etc.). I’m often working several different pieces at once. 

Last is mixing and mastering: balancing the loudness between instruments and adjusting elements like reverb, compression, and equalization. I tend to mix as I compose, even though many producers frown on that approach. I find mixing as I go helps me envision the completed piece and make adjustments to the choice of instruments; it self-inspires me when the piece is starting to sound good.  At the end I do a final mix, but as the saying goes, “A mix is never finished — it’s surrendered.”

In the end, this method gives me a basis for exploration and creativity and helps me stay focused. The goal is always to make a piece of music that feels expressive, cohesive, and emotionally resonant.

Composer; Boston/New Haven
...More on Spotify and Bandcamp below

www.mortalprophets.com

“Anyone having trouble getting to, or staying, asleep should proceed with caution when playing The Mortal Prophets’ debut album around bedtime. The demonic intentions implied by the album’s name and defined by John Beckmann … coil each selection in menacing directions, bringing fresh, often frightening twists to these standards. Be aware - when you engulf yourself in these riveting, uncompromising performances. They are not for the squeamish.”
- American Songwriter

The Mortal Prophets: John Beckmann’s Cinematic Descent Into the Electric Psyche

In the sprawling constellation of modern music, The Mortal Prophets occupy a shadowed corner—less a “band” in the traditional sense than a living, breathing séance conducted by John Beckmann. Across a series of albums, Beckmann has been excavating the strata of Americana, dream pop, blues, and avant-garde minimalism, folding them into a fever-dream narrative that feels like it was beamed from a late-night pirate radio station somewhere between the Mississippi Delta and the outer rings of Saturn. 

Beckmann, who founded New York’s Axis Mundi Design before turning his obsessive creative drive toward music, approaches songwriting like a visual architect—each track a space you inhabit rather than simply hear. His arrangements have the tension of architectural blueprints: precision married to instinct, steel and stone softened by ambient light. In GUITARWORKS II, the most recent installment in a sprawling instrumental odyssey, guitar tones unspool like distant telegraph wires, calling to mind Robert Fripp’s collaborations with Brian Eno, or the glacial drift of Cluster’s experimental soundscapes. It’s profoundly cinematic, yet never ornamental.

If Beckmann’s earlier releases (Stomp The Devil, Me and The Devil, Dealey Plaza Blues) reached back into mythic Americana—the open road, outlaw ballads, acid-washed folk visions—his more recent work tilts toward the abstract, replacing narrative with mood. This is music that understands how memory works: fractured, impressionistic, prone to bleed between truth and hallucination. The Mortal Prophets operate in that liminal space where you’re not sure if you’re dreaming, or just remembering wrong. 

Vocally, when Beckmann steps to the mic, it’s with a delivery equal parts Leonard Cohen confession and Bowie-esque theater—half-smirk, half-sermon. Lyrically, he trades in arcane symbols and sly allusions: 19th-century mystics rub shoulders with dive-bar drifters, and romantic longing flickers like neon through a rain-soaked windshield. He’s not afraid of obliqueness; in fact, he seems to revel in it. Where many contemporary songwriters flatten their work into algorithm-friendly hooks, Beckmann builds labyrinths. 

Part of The Mortal Prophets’ magnetism lies in its refusal to settle. One album might summon the humid ghost-blues of Junior Kimbrough refracted through a loop pedal; the next might drift into synth-heavy dream pop worthy of an early-’90s 4AD release. Beckmann’s collaborators—rotating players drawn from both avant-garde and roots backgrounds—expand that sonic palette, giving the project an almost shapeshifting quality. 
In a cultural moment where genre boundaries are largely performative, Beckmann treats them as haunted ruins worth spelunking through. His songs feel like dispatches from parallel histories of American music—histories where psychedelia never died, where blues never got sanitized, and where experimentalism didn’t have to hide in academic halls. 

The Mortal Prophets may never break into the Billboard mainstream, but that’s hardly the point. Their appeal is in the slow burn, the intimacy of discovery. Beckmann’s work isn’t built for quick consumption; it’s built for listeners willing to linger, to decode, to wander down the long corridors he constructs. In an era obsessed with speed and surface, The Mortal Prophets offer the opposite: a deep dive into the echo chamber of the self, scored by a man who seems to know exactly how to make the walls sing.

Working in the tech industry for many years, I have a passion for music production.
I am personally inclined into listening to piano music, classical and contemporary. 
But I love a lot electronic music in all its varieties: EDM, Phonk, Downtempo, Future Bass, etc. 
I also like rock and jazz music genres.

New tracks tagged #Contemporary-Classical