I do a lot of my composing directly into Finale, but I find that it’s easier for me to sketch out ideas at the very beginning on staff. One of the reasons I like to is because it feels more organic to me. Basic inputing with Finale makes you follow notation rules, while when I’m playing around with themes or motives I like to be able to simply mark in note heads and not worry about rhythm. Or start at the end of a phrase and work my way backwards.
But one of the main reasons I like to work out initial ideas by hand is so that I can keep a composition notebook. Over the course of composing a piece I end up rejecting a fair bit of material. I like to think that what I’m doing is putting only my best ideas into the completed piece, so this elimination process is a good thing. However, a lot of what I leave behind isn’t necessarily bad, it just didn’t fit the spirit and mood of the composition I happened to be working on. So I save those rejected ideas and tuck them away for later.
A lot of times those half finished ideas grow into a composition of their own. Other times they just sit there in the stack and collect dust. Every once in a while, however, I like to go through all the rejected themes and see what I’ve left behind. I never know when something that didn’t speak to me when I first jotted it down on paper will suddenly inspire me. Sometimes I find myself stuck for a second theme or bridge to a composition and find just what I needed in my composition notebook.
I like to think of composition as similar in practice to performing on an instrument. You have to practice to get good at it and if all you work on is what you can already do well you’re not going to make fast improvements. You don’t necessarily have to finish a piece to get something out of the experience. Excellent performers are always practicing their instruments and I’ve found that the composers I admire also are always working on some project, even if it never sees the light of day. For me, adding to my composition notebook is a good form of composition practice.
Thanks for this post. I’m always curious about how others go about composing music. A sort of tangential comment is that as an adolescent back in the 60’s I had that Leonard Bernstein recording of Beethoven’s 5th, and the remnant of the second side of the LP had his orchestrations of Beethoven’s sketch book for the work – some of the things he rejected. Best composition lesson I ever had, because it made the point that composition isn’t as magical as non-musicians (and a lot of musicians) seem to think.
The question of just working on what you do well is an interesting one. Kyle Gann has said several times that every composition of his is a complete new start from the ground up. Supposedly Philip Glass said something like, “I already invented myself once, why do it again?” But Glass has also said he doesn’t repeat himself (at least to his own ear) as that’s boring.
Hope you’ll keep posting on composition from time to time.
Hi, Lyle.
I studied some Beethoven sketches in grad school and was equally fascinated by them. It was really interesting to see how the pieces evolved over time and how much work he put into getting it the way he wanted. Another of my favorite composers, Gil Evans, supposedly could spend weeks on an 8 measure phrase. On the other hand, there are composers like Mozart who reportedly composed entire pieces in their head over short times and then just had to write them down.
Interesting to think about the Philip Glass examples you mentioned. There are great jazz improvisers that are similar. Some invent something innovative and then spend their career being creative within their stylistic framework. Others are constantly looking for new sounds and going in different directions. There’s some food for thought here for composers too, but I’ll need to chew on it for a while.
Thanks,
Dave