Come soon, you feral cats featured on McSweeney's Internet Tendency!

As a longtime fan of McSweeney's, I was immensely excited to have Come soon, you feral cats featured on the homepage blog recently. Check it out!

Boston Musica Viva fundraising video

Over the last few years, I've enjoyed an enormously fruitful relationship with Boston Musica Viva. Getting to work with one of the top ensembles in the country has been, as you might imagine, impossibly rewarding. Please consider supporting them, and check out this video for more reasons why!

PS: I have to pinch myself a little when I see my name included in such esteemed company.

What I've been up to, and where I'm headed

Greetings, Earthlings!

It's been a while, I apologize. The last few months have been intense! Before I tell you why, though, I want to share with you some exciting projects on the horizon. Keep in mind, many of the details on these projects are pretty vague---sometimes it's because I'm leaving room for commissioners to make formal announcements on their own, and sometimes it's because I just don't have the details completely nailed down yet.

Here's what we're looking at:

Fall 2012

• September 7-9: On the non-composing front, I'll be playing "Henry" in a production of next to normal at The Factory Theater in Boston. Hope to see you there!
• September 16: Boston Musica Viva will be playing abstractEXTRACTION at their first-ever Live@SoWa event in Boston.

Winter 2012

• Premiere of Hark, the glad sound! (SATB anthem) at the Trinity College Lessons and Carols services in Hartford (see last year's program here). Details to follow.
• Premiere of a to-be-titled piece for electronics at a Fifth Floor concert in Boston (announcement coming soon).
• Another non-composing item: the Elmsmen will be singing at the Algonquin Club on December 13 for the Trinity Club of Boston.
• December 16: The first ever public performance of an aria from my opera (stay tuned), premiered by the commissioning organization. Details to follow.

Spring 2013

• Premiere of a new work for the Balletik Duo at a Fifth Floor concert in Boston.
• Premiere of a new work for Transient Canvas at a Fifth Floor concert in Boston.
• Premiere of Vanitas, a batshit-crazy chamber work, with the Equilibrium Concert Series (still being hammered out).

Summer 2013

• Premiere of a large-scale organ commission by the absolutely incredible Christopher Houlihan. Chris will be playing my music at a dual convention of the New York/New Jersey and New England chapters of the American Guild of Organists in Hartford. Details to follow.
• Evening-length preview of the opera in Boston. Many, many more details to follow.

Summer 2014

• Premiere of the opera. I know, I know, this is all incredibly nebulous. The commissioning organization will make the formal announcement of the opera soon, and I want to make sure they have control over the publicity. Suffice to say I'm extremely excited.

All of these will eventually be added to the calendar, and all will be blogged about. You've been warned.

Anyway, here's a little of what I've been up to for the past few months!

I covered more than Handel, I swear.

In June, I delivered a talk at my Trinity five-year reunion in Hartford.  The presentation was a thoroughly updated (though similarly titled) version of Sounding It Out, the lecture I gave at Trinity back in April 2011. At some point I'll be uploading the whole thing here---the problem I'm having now is that a) it's a Prezi and b) the audio track was recorded on an iPhone sitting in the audience. If I can make those two parties work together, I should be able to upload it soon.

The Elmsmen, reunited with Pinky the Water Bottle (our publicity-shy fourth member).

The nature of the talk was the evolution of Western classical music, and how I, as a modern composer, fit into it. Special emphasis was given the increasing diversity of material (harmonic, melodic, thematic, rhythmic, etc.) over time, and how my music---which has been characterized as aesthetically mercurial---is a logical (to me, at least) extension of that trajectory.

It ended with a performance of three of my pieces---How sweet I roam'd, and the Kyrie and Agnus Dei from my Missa Brevis for Three Male Voices---by the Elmsmen (our first time performing together in over a year). When all was said and done, I was pretty pleased!

Then, just a week later, I had the honor of premiering i carry your heart(i carry it in), set to (of course) E.E. Cummings, at the wedding of two great friends. Despite the performance being outside (and our numbers being a bit diminished), everyone pulled together and sang beautifully.

Performing in the ceremony. Credit: Kasey Matson Photography

A particularly full-of-character (read: sloppy) page from my sketches for the piece.

Then, the morning after said wedding, it was straight into the (absurdly gorgeous) studios of WGBH in Boston for The Tortoise and the Hare!

Check out the ceilings in this place!

Taking recording notes in the score.

The control room. That's our producer in the driver's seat.

It was wonderful seeing both the Boston Musica Viva and Marimba Magic again, and Steve Aveson (as always) nailed the narration. This project will be taking on a life of its own in the months to come, but for now it's under wraps. Rest assured you haven't heard the last of either of those furry woodland creatures.

As a side note, Christopher Pickett (the librettist, of course) and I are already discussing future projects---hopefully there will be announcements up here for those soon too.

Things quieted down for a couple of weeks. And then ...

I GOT MARRIED!

My best friend and I tied the knot on July 14 in Narragansett, Rhode Island. It was easily the best day of my life.

Micah and I on the beach where I first told her I loved her. That's right.

The wedding featured music by my great friend and colleague, Andrew Paul Jackson. My best buddy/Best Man, Devin Romanul, conducted a choir of my male friends in a beautiful rendition of Stephen Paulus' Shall I Compare Thee?, and Micah walked down the aisle to the theme from my Variations for String Quartet (2009), the first piece I composed for her.

We then enjoyed a gut-wrenchingly beautiful nine days in on the Isle of Capri, in Italy. I might do a blog post about this, or I might just write a novel. I'm not quite sure yet. Here are three pictures.

About to get dinner in Capri Town.

I wasn't even posing here, I'm just that much of a badass.

This is an actual place. That you can visit.

Then I came back to the real world.

That's all for now. I'll be more frequent with updates going forward, so please don't be a stranger!

A short rant on exquisite cars with terrible names

As the dust of our economic collapse begins to settle, a handful of once-begotten automakers is on the ascent. One of particular note is Ford, which entered 2008 with a decidedly lackluster lineup, slumping sales, and an impossibly complex global manufacturing scheme, and emerged profitable, robust, and unified--all in the absence of the much-bemoaned (and yet undeniably successful) "bail-outs" awarded the other two of the Big Three American car companies.

I start off with Ford not because I'm going to discuss any Ford-branded vehicles, but because the two marques with which I'm concerned---Jaguar and Lincoln---have beenirrevocably affiliated with the big blue oval for quite some time, and both brands are getting back on their feet after decades of neglect and terrible decisions. One---Lincoln---because Ford abandoned Mercury, and the other---Jaguar---because Ford abandoned them.

Rolls down the road, not off the tongue

Jaguar, of course, is now owned by Tata, an Indian firm. Cut free of the Old Ford fetters (shoddy platforms, badge engineering, confused marketing), Jaguar has retaken its place as a global design icon. The current XJ, released in 2009, is---and I sincerely mean this---one of the most beautiful, uniquely artful automobiles I've ever seen. Like the evergreen E-Type, the XJ is fluid grace made manifest. And powered by a can of Whoop-Ass. Just look at this thing:

I didn't even notice the woman until the second time I saw this.

It's the kind of beauty that, though immediately apparent in pictures, is magnified when it's in motion. The interplay of light and dark, the gleam of black metal and cold glass, the sweeping profile of its greenhouse as it slips by you---it's just a masterpiece, and one that only cements Ian Callum's place in the pantheon.

And then, take a look at the strikingly redesigned XK:

The new, supercharged iteration of the XKR.

While we're at it, here's the delightful XF:

This is the spankin' new 2012 model.

What we have here is a thrilling lineup---just three vehicles, suited for different, distinct purposes and demographics. No bloated, confusing, cross-platform nonsense.

And yet, for the life of me, I can barely remember what they're called.

XF, XK, and XJ are acronyms utterly devoid of meaning to the average consumer. I'm a self-professed car nut, and I have to struggle to remind myself that there was a different XJ before the current one, and that it looked completely different. That the name "Jaguar XJ" has been in use, more or less continuously, since 1968. That the original XJ's powerplant was largely based on the then-new "XK engine," and that designs based on the XK engine (including the XJ) occasionally made use of an innovative fuel-tank arrangement adopted from the Jaguar Mark X.

All of this is to say that XJ means absolutely nothing. It's a half-century old term that supposedly bridges the heritage gap between these two vehicles:

What makes matters worse is that there's no discernible pattern here. The XJ, a full-size sedan (think Audi A8) is much larger than the XK (a diminutive grand-tourer à la the Audi A5), and slots in directly above its little sedan-brother, the XF (comparable to the Audi A4). Something the Germans do well (one of many things, admittedly) is plan: like addresses in a well-laid housing development, the numbers go up as you make your way through the line, but space is afforded between them in case a tougher-to-classify model has to slide in between.

Examples:

BMW's 1 Series (teeny tiny), 3 Series (compact executive), 5 Series (mid-size), 7 Series (full-size luxury). When they built a large, two-door executive sports express, they called it the "6 Series." When they wanted a small roadster, they called it the "Z4." When they want to specify things like engine displacement, the taxonomy specifies gradations within a given line, like "328" or "335." You know a 335 is rear-wheel drive when it's called a "335i." Likewise, you know it's directing power to all four wheels when it's labeled "335xi."

When they build a crossover, even, you immediately know the specifics of the platform in relation to those initial, odd-numbered product lines. The X3 is a sport-utilified version of the 3 Series. If you want something racy, look for anything with an "M" in front of it. The M3 and M5 are salient examples.

All this is to say that BMW's nomenclature---while not exactly thrilling or evocative---serves a purpose, and serves it well.

Jaguar's nomenclature isn't only devoid of thrills or evocations, but it doesn't tell the consumer anything about the vehicle they want. I'm a connoisseur of these things, and I don't even really know what to call them. When I mention the XKRS to someone, I have to stop and think if I'm even talking about the right vehicle.

In the end, though, I can mostly forgive Jaguar for these marketing mishaps. They are currently putting out only three vehicles, and these three vehicles are truly among the best in each of their respective classes. I can't quite say the same for our next guest, unfortunately.

A comedy of grammars

Lincoln doesn't produce anything right now that competes with any of the big players in the entry-level luxury arena. They have, however, produced some visually striking vehicles over the last two years, and on this basis alone have entered my "cars I vaguely desire" list.

One of said vehicles resembles, for all intents and purposes, a sperm whale. It is called the "MKT" (I had to look that one up, FYI).

Ahab would be covetous. His would be in white.

Its basic shape is that of a distended sea cucumber (rendered in mammoth proportions), flanked by a grille looking for all the world like a gaping maw filled with baleen plates and a rear that looks like ... well ... this:

Here we go, Ahab.

Yet there's something about the sheer ballsiness of the MKT that I just can't help but admire. I'm not sure if I'm revolted by it, or if I'm attracted to it, but I can't really take my eyes off the thing.

The MKT's little crossover-brother is the MKX, which is built on the same platform as its sedan alter-ego, the MKZ (the Ford CD3 platform). The MKZ's slightly larger sedan-brother is the MKS, which I'm just now realizing I've been calling the MKZ for the last year or so. Just to make things even more awkward, the platform underlying the MKS isn't the CD3: it's the D3. Not sure what was lost in the slipping of the "C," but it certainly wasn't size.

Lincoln is finally building cars that are interesting, if not quite enviable. They're selling many, many more of them than they were back in 2008, too. They just brought a new design chief on board, and he's just the right person to make the brand competitive with rivals both domestic (Cadillac, even Buick) and foreign (das Germans).

The problem is, it's very nearly impossible to remember what the heck these things are called. Here are three reasons:

1. The whole "MK" business is directly descended from Lincoln's long practice of labeling things "Mark ___." I can get on board with that. It reminds me of WWII-era fighters. But now that they are "MK_," I don't really know if I'm supposed to be saying "Mark" or "MK" when I refer to them. I have to watch video reviews to find out, and even they don't always say the same thing.
2. If you're going to have this diverse of a lineup (small sedan, large sedan, small crossover, large crossover, not to mention the Navigator and the on-its-last-leg Town Car), you absolutely have to come up with a way of making them distinct. The MKS looks like a bloated MKZ, but I can't even really remember why. It's just bigger and ... mushier. Not in a bad way---actually in something of a good way---but in an indistinct way. Naming them essentially the same thing just puts this problem in sharper relief.
3. The Z is smaller than the S, and the T is larger than the X. I don't know what that's supposed to indicate.

The single most frustrating thing Lincoln's done in recent years---this is minor, sure, but it's frustrating to me at least---is to dump the one truly wonderful name it's resurrected in recent memory, the "Zephyr," in favor of "MKZ." "Zephyr" had historical significance for the brand, and was evocative, romantic even. "MKZ," on the other hand, was the first of the modern "MK" cars, and heralded the trend that's resulted in the mess I've been writing about.

Anyway, that's about enough about Lincoln. I still don't know why I like the MKT, but I have a feeling I wouldn't want to find out.

Or was it the MKX?

Lastly, a thought on the exotics

I'll end by comparing two cars that are so viscerally appealing that it almost pains me to look at them: the Lamborghini Aventador and the McLaren MP4-12C. I'll wait while you catch your breath, don't worry.

"Aventador" is the name of a famous fighting bull.

"MP4-12C" is derived from, well, see below.

Here we have two cars representing the peak of modern automobile design, running in the same vaunted circles as the Ferrari 458 Italia and the Bugatti Veyron. Everyone who hears "Aventador" a few times will never forget it: the bull-fighting connection, the sweeping, exotic way it sounds when you say it out loud, the down-sweeping "A" jammed against the up-sweeping "V"---it's sensual, memorable, icon-worthy.

"MP4-12C," however, took me forever to memorize. The name is derived from about a thousand different sources. "MP4" is McLaren's internal name for the F1 chassis it's been building for thirty years. The "12" is apparently indicative of McLaren's internal "performance index," which it uses to rate vehicles on a scale of 1 to something. Probably not 10, but something. The "C" is short for carbon, or more precisely carbon fiber, a material used liberally in the construction of the car.

Two things make this even more ridiculous:

1. McLaren's championship-winning, late-'90s Forumula One racer was called the MP4/12. So for 15 years or so, car geeks around the world were quite familiar with "MP4" and "12" being used by McLaren to talk about a vehicle utterly unrelated to the sports car that swapped the backslash for a dash and added a "C" to the end.
2. In England, where the car is produced, people pronounce the "dash" in the middle. So whenever someone (take, for example, Jeremy Clarkson) wants to talk about the car, they have to pronounce six syllables, and not even syllables that constitute a word. They constitute a string of acronyms.

I've always liked my cars named, and named proudly. When I tell people I drive a Charger, they immediately know what kind of car I'm talking about even if they know nothing about cars. When I say I've been passionately pining for a Viper for most of my life, they can imagine why. When I say "Gremlin," everyone immediately reacts (usually with disgust, but often with fond memories of awkward little cars from a bygone era).

The first car that was truly mine was a brand-new, bareboned, black Pontiac Sunfire. It might not've been particularly sunny or pyrotechnical, but come on: Sunfire. That's just a wonderful name, and one that I'm glad for having said out loud.

Cars, whether we like to admit it or not, are never blank slates. They aren't just palettes on which we paint our personalities. They are developed over years by teams of people who love engineering and design, and they arise in response to our basic need to transport ourselves, to hurtle our bodies through the air so that we may get where we're going quickly, safely, and---some might argue---even thrillingly.

I say "bring the balls back."

5am: A Tableu

A vaguely pretentious, semi-arranged look into what I'm doing at this ungodly hour.

From left to right: a manuscript from Tortoise and the Hare, my trusty new Samson Meteor Mic (you can expect an "Objects of My Affection" post on this puppy, mark my words), a fascinating Italian orange wine by Angiolino Maule, more from T&tH on my beloved laptop, and my casually askew sitar propped against the wall.

Who's got time to sleep, anyway?