Instrumental compositions that address questions of the mind and the soul, of the temporal and the infinite, and of the bridge that connects them.
Inspired by the interpretation of William Wallace by Randall Wallace and Mel Gibson in the movie Braveheart. Composed in the fall of 2006. Respectfully dedicated to the memory of Captain Christopher J. Sullivan, U.S. Army, killed in action January 18, 2005.
The long road out of Babylon leads back to Dallas. Composed in June 2008 for DHH and family, with best wishes.
This orchestral composition is about expressing due respect for the dignity of life until its natural end. An elderly man walking through a park sees children on a carousel, and he remembers riding the same carousel as a child. The orchestration, particularly the use of horns, is evidence of the influence of, and my deep appreciation for, the profoundly expressive work of Mark Isham. Composed one Saturday morning in March 2008. Inspired by memories of a scene at the carousel in the Parc du Champs de Mars in Paris in June 2007.
The Nunc Dimittis is the Song of Simeon, found in Luke 2:29-32. Sung by a choir as an evening prayer in an Anglican evensong, it begins: "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace . . . ." This version uses instruments rather than a choir to tell a love story rooted in shared faith. The violin is the voice of a dying woman, singing the Song of Simeon. The guitar is her husband, bidding her farewell until they reunite on the other side. The gong symbolizes the infinite. Composed for F in the winter of 2008 in memory of E.
Inspired by Nikita Mikhalkov's motion picture about the beginnings of Josef Stalin's Great Purge in 1936. Composed in the winter of 2008.
By this phrase, the Anglican prayer for absolution acknowledges individual responsibility for the moral consequences of collective action. This piece is my favorite composition. The solo was improvised and recorded on the first take. Composed June 21-22, 2008.
"For what shall it profit a man, to gain the whole world, and forfeit his soul?" Mark 8:36. Composed July 26, 2008.
It was now
six o'clock in the morning, the light still ambiguous and faint. The buildings
around us already tottered, and though we stood upon open ground, yet as the
place was narrow and confined, there was certain and formidable danger from
their collapsing. It was not till then we resolved to quit the town . . . . Being
got outside the houses, we halt in the midst of a most strange and dreadful
scene. The coaches which we had ordered out, though upon the most level ground,
were sliding to and fro, and could not be kept steady even when stones were put
against the wheels. Then we beheld the sea sucked back, and as it were repulsed
by the convulsive motion of the earth; it is certain at least the shore was
considerably enlarged, and now held many sea-animals captive on the dry sand.
On the other side, a black and dreadful cloud bursting out in gusts of igneous
serpentine vapour now and again yawned open to reveal long fantastic flames,
resembling flashes of lightning but much larger . . . . Soon afterwards, the
cloud I have described began to descend upon the earth, and cover the sea. It
had already begirt the hidden Capreae, and blotted from sight the promontory of
Misenum. My mother now began to beseech, exhort, and command me to escape as
best I might . . . . I looked behind me; gross darkness pressed upon our rear,
and came rolling over the land after us like a torrent. I proposed while we yet
could see, to turn aside, lest we should be knocked down in the road by the
crowd that followed us and trampled to death in the dark. We had scarce sat
down, when darkness overspread us, not like that of a moonless or cloudy night,
but of a room when it is shut up, and the lamp put out. You could hear the
shrieks of women, the crying of children, and the shouts of men; some were
seeking their children, others their parents, others their wives or husbands,
and only distinguishing them by their voices; one was lamenting his own fate,
another that of his family; some were praying to die, from the very fear of
dying; many were lifting their hands to the gods; but the greater part imagined
that there were no gods left anywhere, and that the last and eternal night was
come upon the world.
From the letter of Pliny the Younger to Cornelius Tacitus, describing the eruption of Vesuvius in August of 79 A.D. (English translation by William Melmoth, 1746). Composed in July 2008, shortly after my first visit to Pompeii.
Composed March 14-15, 2009. In honor of Colonel William F. Middledorf, 1922-2009.
This song is for Eric Lowen, a fine songwriter and musician I met in Los Angeles in 1985. Composed between May 9 and 24, 2009 in honor of Eric's final performance, June 6, 2009. Vaya con Dios.
This song is a coda to "Just a Better Map." Composed May 25, 2009.
Composed August 27, 2009. A meditation on reconciliation, in Spain and elsewhere.
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
From Burnt Norton by T.S. Eliot. Composed December 12, 2009. For Bob.
Music for T.S. Eliot's Burnt Norton:
What
might have been is an abstraction
Remaining
a perpetual possibility
Only
in a world of speculation.
What
might have been and what has been
Point
to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls
echo in the memory
Down
the passage which we did not take
Towards
the door we never opened
Into
the rose-garden.
Composed February 20-March 8, 2011.
The awful daring of a moment’s surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
Inspired by T.S. Eliot. The theme is loosely drawn from several hymns by Ralph Vaughn Williams. Composed March 12-20, 2011.