The two different “pulses” and themes of this piece are in striking contrast. The opening theme is lilting and flutters from high to low in the woodwinds, giving a sense of height and openness to the first section. The pulse is a short, almost constant ostinato in sixteenth notes. As the flutters continue, they twist and incorporate the remained of the ensemble until culminating in broad chords spiraling towards the second theme. Driven by the brass and xylophone, the second pulse thunders below the second theme, first heard in the bassoon. Because the second pulse is in an irregular meter, the inflection of the first theme remains, however, the lightness has been distorted into something darker; a more forceful ostinato. Ultimately, the opening theme returns, fighting through the weight of the heavier pulse, and then finally bursting triumphantly into a more jubilant iteration of the first theme and pulse,incorporating the whole ensemble in a glorious finale.

InPulsive

Some nights bring more peaceful sleep than others. This piece was born out of a morning of continuously waking and turning towards the ever-open window in the middle of a cold, but very still, January. Ultimately, I wanted to present the abundance of stillness and the cold that is ever present this time of year, but I also wanted the sense of peace and calm that accompanies these early morning hours. The beginning reflects the muggy heaviness of blearily peering through sleepy eyes to see a groggy purple: the purple of a winter night. The melody is presented in the flute at the very end of this first section. The clarinets continuously propel the music to the next color of morning. Next is the dark gray that fills the space between streetlamps, and the melody is reinterpreted in the lower woodwinds. A fermata and punctuated woodwinds herald the slate gray of the sky, and finally the music threads in and out of a lush melodic escape towards the clear gray of another triumphant January morning.

January Morning

I sat in a 7:30 AM Spanish course on a Friday in April when the unthinkable happened: a girl in the class suffered a heart attack. Through the course of the next forty minutes, I watched as people who barely knew each other came together to help their classmate to the best of their ability. Once the ambulance arrived, we weren’t strangers anymore. Hours later, we were notified of the girl’s passing. This piece is both a reflection on the deaths of those who leave too early, and the celebration of both their lives and the way crisis can often bring out the most strength in those around them.

Stranger's Requiem

The four movements of this piece were created individually and compiled after completion. Each was born of the same challenge: write a concise, well-developed work that was approximately two minutes long and had three flats in the key signature. Some developed into other challenges. “Like Sunshine” was an opportunity for me to generate “pretty” music (which, as a rhythmically-driven composer, is very difficult for me), and “Like Prayer” was written and orchestrated in under 24 hours. Overall, the four movements are programmed to loosely mimic a four-movement work, beginning with an Allegro and finishing with a glorious Finale.

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