FRANK STEMPER, COMPOSER
Double Wind Trio (1983)
for oboe, bassoon, and piano [6 mins.]
Commissioned by the Aulos Trio
Premiered by the Aulos Trio, 17 November 1983, in Shryock Auditorium, Carbondale, Illinois.
Opus 11 —A.S.C.A.P. work I.D. 342338812
SCORE
Premiered by the Aulos Trio, 17 November 1983, in Shryock Auditorium, Carbondale, Illinois.
Opus 11 —A.S.C.A.P. work I.D. 342338812
SCORE
NOTES
I wrote this music just after returning from Paris, where my wife and our two small children lived from 1981-1983. The piece is dedicated to them, “for my traveling companions.”
This work was commissioned by faculty at Southern Illinois University, where I was hired as an Assistant Professor in 1983. They wrote to me before I even moved to Southern Illinois or had met them as a nice gesture to a future colleague. The piece was premiered not too long after I started my new job by the trio, George Hussey, oboe — Chas. Fligel, bassoon — Margaret Simmons, piano. They did an excellent job, too, despite being shocked by the music. I don’t think they were expecting something as esoterically challenging as my music was back then. I have always taken my occupation seriously. I considered that my primary responsibility as a modern composer was to explore music. To me it was/is also a perk! As a student, I studied the different directions that “classical music” had taken – throughout history – right up to 1983, and then see what I could do to advance that direction. I was interested in innovation, not plagiarism.
This music is quite disjunct in many parameters of music, but especially its discourse. There is hardly a single statement that is complete or more important than any other. It has no dramatic hierarchy. Like the French Symbolist poets, this music throws all the individual parts at the listener, who then is responsible for his/her own interpretation of the narrative’s meaning. There is not a single statement but one for each listener. It’s abstract, like all music.
That’s all I will write about this, except to say that the evening of the concert, many of the audience members were there partly to hear what the university’s new Composer in Residence could do. I imagine they were as shocked as the musicians. They were shocked, because they came with expectation to hear something familiar, and I’m sure this music was not at all anything resembling what their idea of what music is supposed to be. They didn’t have somebody to tell them that there wouldn’t be any snappy tunes (although I think they’re snappy), there were no harmonious harmonies (though I think they are), no musical phrases, active rhythms, or climactic drama (this piece is full of that stuff – and more). Because of this, during my first year on the job it took a while for the musicians and many members of the audience to make eye contact with me. It wouldn’t be the last time.
I wrote this music just after returning from Paris, where my wife and our two small children lived from 1981-1983. The piece is dedicated to them, “for my traveling companions.”
This work was commissioned by faculty at Southern Illinois University, where I was hired as an Assistant Professor in 1983. They wrote to me before I even moved to Southern Illinois or had met them as a nice gesture to a future colleague. The piece was premiered not too long after I started my new job by the trio, George Hussey, oboe — Chas. Fligel, bassoon — Margaret Simmons, piano. They did an excellent job, too, despite being shocked by the music. I don’t think they were expecting something as esoterically challenging as my music was back then. I have always taken my occupation seriously. I considered that my primary responsibility as a modern composer was to explore music. To me it was/is also a perk! As a student, I studied the different directions that “classical music” had taken – throughout history – right up to 1983, and then see what I could do to advance that direction. I was interested in innovation, not plagiarism.
This music is quite disjunct in many parameters of music, but especially its discourse. There is hardly a single statement that is complete or more important than any other. It has no dramatic hierarchy. Like the French Symbolist poets, this music throws all the individual parts at the listener, who then is responsible for his/her own interpretation of the narrative’s meaning. There is not a single statement but one for each listener. It’s abstract, like all music.
That’s all I will write about this, except to say that the evening of the concert, many of the audience members were there partly to hear what the university’s new Composer in Residence could do. I imagine they were as shocked as the musicians. They were shocked, because they came with expectation to hear something familiar, and I’m sure this music was not at all anything resembling what their idea of what music is supposed to be. They didn’t have somebody to tell them that there wouldn’t be any snappy tunes (although I think they’re snappy), there were no harmonious harmonies (though I think they are), no musical phrases, active rhythms, or climactic drama (this piece is full of that stuff – and more). Because of this, during my first year on the job it took a while for the musicians and many members of the audience to make eye contact with me. It wouldn’t be the last time.