At this time I am notating a harpsichord improvisation I recorded a few months ago - the day prior to my organ recital, actually. I titled the harpsichord improvisation "Star-Crossed." I am preparing the score for a Valentine's Day Keyboard Area recital at CSU next month. This improvisation - despite being not-that-great a performance - was perfect in terms of musically conveying my emotions. It needs cleaned up a bit in terms of scoring, but as it stands here, it is effective and completely honest. Remembering the recording of "Star-Crossed" led me to consider my initial experiences in composing for the harpsichord and clavichord, and thus this post.
(You can find a link to this recording here: https://soundcloud.com/michaelcalabris/star-crossed-harpsichord)
When I recorded this improvisation I was very tired from overwork (I come from a family of "workaholics," so overworking comes naturally) and from the natural stress about and anticipation of the recital.
This is a very emotional improvisation because its source is what might be considered "interpersonal."
Without going into too much detail, immediately prior to my recording this improvisation I found myself face-to-face with someone I didn't expect to see. It was the unlikeliest of chance encounters. As usual I didn't know what to say and she misinterpreted the awkward silence. After feeling so tired I then felt....sad or depressed are not the right words. In fact, if there WERE words to describe how I felt I would have written a poem instead of creating this improvisation.
Having a few minutes to spare before my next class and feeling a bit overwhelmed both by the preparation for the recital and its attendant stresses, and the chance meeting, I suddenly became the stereotypical artist in need of self-expression, so off I went to the harpsichord practice room for some improvisational therapy.
The harpsichord room housed a wonderful Zuckermann IX Flemish harpsichord which at that time was tuned to 1/6-comma meantone temperament (ca. 412 hrz). I used the harpsichord's buffer stop to create the guitar-like sound you hear in this recording. I wanted this piece to sound more like a guitar-based folk or pop ballad.
Most of my compositions from mid-2018 to spring of 2019 were for solo keyboard instruments, especially for the harpsichord and clavichord. Almost all of those compositions were inspired by the same situation (or the genesis of the situation) that inspired "Star-Crossed."
In 2018 and early 2019 it did not immediately occur to me why virtually everything I composed was for solo keyboard instruments. The reason should have been obvious: the solo keyboard represents, in this instance, the solo individual voice; the solo musician and what he is communicating as an individual. I was a single individual (in more ways than one!) expressing my individual emotions.
Aside from expressing my emotions the music was also a way for me to make sense of things. The order and method necessary for musical composition helped me to contextualize what was otherwise purely sensory impressions and emotional responses. This provided me with a sense of objectiveness and perspective. In the course of these compositional endeavors I composed my first significant works for harpsichord and clavichord.
Cleveland State University had a clavichord (a Zuckermann IV unfretted clavichord) that had not been used in a long time and had never been used in performance, for obvious reasons (the clavichord is a very quiet instrument). I asked if the clavichord could be repaired/tuned, and if I could practice on it. The staff kindly granted me these requests and I quickly familiarized myself with the instrument. I was greatly impressed by the clavichord's expressiveness and its sensitivity and responsiveness to touch. How had composers come to neglect such a wonderful instrument?! Its subtle shades of tone and color, the nuances of timbre and dynamic - the piano was no match for the clavichord at all, as far as I was concerned!
From January 2019 - early April 2019 I recorded a series of improvisations which became part of my first work for clavichord, a programmatic Neo-Classical suite entitled "Love, Deception, Delusion, and Counterpoint." Incidentally, I remember when, after mentioning the title of this work to one of my friends, she remarked "That sounds like my life in a nutshell!"
My graduate harpsichord recital was fast approaching and I asked my professor if I would be permitted to perform some of my new harpsichord and clavichord works at the recital. She graciously agreed. I've attaching here an image of the advertising poster I prepared a month or so prior to the recital.
I was the first person at CSU ever to perform on their clavichord at a recital or concert. Unamplified, the clavichord would have been barely audible in the recital hall. Given that the microphone hanging above the stage could not sufficiently receive the sound of the clavichord I requested that a separate microphone be placed directly above the instrument's soundboard. The technicians very kindly assisted me with this.
The recital opened with two excerpts from "Love, Deception, Delusion, and Counterpoint:" "Music Box" and "Love Song without Words." Both pieces are in the Phrygian mode (this was not a conscious choice; the Phrygian mode just happens to be my favorite). The clavichord was, at my request, tuned to 1/6-comma meantone temperament (392 hrz). I intended these clavichord pieces to have a guitar-like sonority and a balladeer-type character, and the above-mentioned tuning was essential to the sound I desired.
I posted on my SoundCloud page a recording from the recital of these two opening clavichord pieces, and you can find that recording here: https://soundcloud.com/michaelcalabris/two-clavichord-pieces.
The recital closed with two pieces from "Suite for Harpsichord," a work I composed in the autumn of 2018. Like the clavichord suite, "Suite for Harpsichord" was inspired both by events in my life and also by the music I was preparing for my recital: music from the Renaissance and early Baroque Eras. Unlike the clavichord suite which is relatively easy to play, "Suite for Harpsichord" is a concert work and it requires an advanced technique. Also unlike the clavichord suite, the music of "Suite for Harpsichord" is chromatic and at times very dissonant.
I chose to close the recital with two of the shorter movements, "Fantasia" and "Arietta," both because of time constraints (the recital was to be a one-hour recital, etc.) and because one of my professors told me he deemed "Suite for Harpsichord" and these two pieces from it in particular to be perhaps the most original and individual work I had composed to that time. He described the music as "chromatically modal," meaning that the modes of the pieces remained clear despite the often densely chromatic textures.
You can hear the recital recording of "Fantasia" here: https://soundcloud.com/michaelcalabris/fantasia-from-suite-for-harpsichord.
"Fantasia" was very much inspired by the English virginalist composers while "Arietta" (which I did not post), the piece with which "Suite for Harpsichord" concludes, is a rather quirky little piece that paraphrases an earlier composition of mine, "Aria," a work for string trio I composed in May 2017. The paraphrase had a symbolic intent that need not be described here. Suffice it to say that "Arietta" came as much as a surprise to the audience as the closing work of the recital program, despite its being an excerpt of a larger work, as it would have done had it been heard at the end of a complete performance of the "Suite." That was my compositional intent, as "Arietta" represents, among other things, life going on even when things seem unresolved and unclear. (As an aside, lack of both resolution and complete phrases are key features in the music of "Suite for Harpsichord"). "Arietta" is a popular style piece based largely on a IV-V-I-vi progression.
"Suite for Harpsichord" was performed on CSU's Russell French double-manual harpsichord, tuned to a Werckmeister temperament (413 hrz). Yes, three instruments were used at the recital. I've attached a photo I took of the stage about an hour or two prior to the recital.
The dynamic and timbral intimacy of the clavichord and harpsichord as well as the ease with which their intonation could be controlled and adjusted made them ideally suited for the things I was trying to "say" in the two suites. After the recital a friend told me that the clavichord in particular sounded surprisingly like a guitar. I responded by saying that it was the closest I would ever come to being a guitarist!
The reaction to "Star-Crossed" was remarkable. Among the many interesting and very kind comments people posted on SoundCloud, someone noted that the harpsichord (here tuned to 1/6-comma meantone (ca. 412 hrz)) sounded like a theorbo lute, or like one of Francisco da Milano's lute compositions. Although that was not my intent, this statement reaffirmed that this improvisation was successful in conveying what I intended to convey.
Now, long after the events that initially inspired my reaction to a chance encounter which in turn inspired the improvisation, I am revisiting "Star-Crossed," and, perhaps ironically, preparing it for a Valentine's Day recital. But whether heart-broken or in love this piece means a lot to me, and it is, in a way, an expression of one aspect of the human condition. As Elvis Costello sings in "Town Cryer" (from his 1982 album "Imperial Bedroom"): "Love and unhappiness go arm-in-arm."
I heard someone say recently (not to me, but it was said in my hearing): "Don't be sad it ended; be glad it happened." While human relationships often make little sense whether they work out or not, one in particular that did not work out served as the inspiration for works completely unique in my compositional oeuvre - often difficult for me to play or even listen to, but unique and essential, nonetheless. And for that I am grateful.