Marcel Proost, Laptop Composer

May 11, 2010

Before I left for the East Coast last week I ran into my neighbor Marcel Proost, who lives up on Buckshot Creek. Readers of Hell Mouth by now know about Marcel, his arrest for marijuana cultivation, his firearms, his off-grid trailer in the redwoods, and how he’s always embarrassing me with his upcountry snarky humor and libertarian opinions. He enjoys being a sort of Tea Party troublemaker. Just last week he told me that he had written a letter to the editors of The New York Review of Books, complaining about what he considered Charles Rosen’s “pompous excrescences” in a recent piece on Hugo von Hoffmanstahl that appeared in the current issue. The editors refused to print the letter because they found a dangling modifier in it, plus he’d misspelled “Hohenzollern.”

“Marcel,” the only thing I’ve ever seen you read is an out of date Kawasaki manual. What are you doing trying to go head to head with the learned Mr. Rosen?” He just smiles and stuffs a chaw of Redman into his mouth. “Just keepin’ him on his toes, John.”

But today I am filled with fear and loathing because I see Marcel has a Macintosh laptop tucked under his arm, and I know this could only mean one thing: he’s started to compose music. And then sure enough—I hear the dreaded words:

“John, I want you to hear some of my compositions.”

“Oh no, Marcel, not you too!” I collapse in despair, my face in my hands.

Ever since the invention of music software the world seems to be full of composers, both amateur and professional, who extrude two or three pieces a week. It’s gotten to the point where you can’t make it through the day without being nailed by a newbie composer who’s just discovered how easy it is to be a prolific latter day Haydn or Shostakovich courtesy of miraculous new products with strange names like Garage Band, Band-in-a-Box, Cakewalk and so on.

“Marcel, this is going to ruin our friendship,” I protest.

I tell him an absolutely true story, and I’m not making this up: I go to my optometrist recently for a routine eye checkup, and at the end of the exam, while I am still sitting in the darkened room with my pupils wildly dilated, Doctor Bob Schoeps says to me, “You gotta moment, John? I want to show you something.” I think he’s going to give me a demo of some new laser contraption to scan my cornea or something. But instead Doctor Bob reaches into a drawer and pulls out his Mac Pro. He hits a key and up pops a page of staves, a 4/4 time signature and a several rows of perfectly “engraved” eighth notes. He hits the space bar and it launches a composition of his called “Pink Tequila.” A scroll bar follows the notation while out of the tinny little speakers comes a bubbly tune with a ricky-ticky salsa percussion background.

“Cool, huh?” says Doctor Bob. “I’m gonna print out the parts and play it with my jazz trio at the Alameda Elks Club next week. Any chance you could come by? I’ll leave tickets for you at the door.”

And not only that, last week while driving up Route 1 I find myself being pulled over by a CHP cop. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong, but when he came up to the side of the car and peered in, he too was carrying a laptop. He told me to “step out of the car, sir,” and then instead of writing me a ticket he made me listen to a percussion concerto he’d just composed.

Marcel doesn’t appreciate this story and just looks at me with a slight show of indignation.

“That’s really unfair John. You haven’t even heard my symphony. Just give a listen. I composed it last night. And this morning I drove down to Gualala Copy and got the score printed out and bound so you can follow along. Check it out. This is serious stuff.”

Marcel’s “Symphony No. 1” —he calls it that because he is planning nine of them—is in 4/4, and the tempo is quarter note=120. The first page is full of 16th notes all cascading down the scale in perfect parallel motion. Then on the following page the same 16th notes go UP the scale, again in perfect parallel motion. That goes on for about sixty pages until an empty bar appears, apparently announcing a grand pause.

“That’s a moment of structural articulation, John.”

“Marcel,” I say, “would you PLEASE not spit those ugly goobers on my floor! I always have to mop up after every one of your visits.”

“You wanna hear it?”

“Actually no.”

But it’s already too late. Marcel has reached into his canvas bag and pulled out a pair of earphones. He offers them to me expectantly, and I have no recourse except to put them on and listen to the machine-perfect mockup, complete with faux oboes and jittery sampled violins. The music is aggressively cheerful and energetic, in a sort of “hi, how are ya?” way, starting out in C major, but eventually drifting into a kind of vague polytonality.

I realize it’s hopeless to criticize, and I know that Marcel is so delighted to have found his inner Mozart that I would only be a skunk at his garden party by finding fault. But nonetheless…

“Marcel, I guess it’s better that you’re doing this instead of target practice in my driveway, but honestly this is pretty dumb stuff. And I can spot a ‘cut & paste’ as well as anyone. Does it even occur to you that you might try modulating the phrasing or freeing up the tempo or, God forbid, do a little subtle transposition? Even the most untutored listener can tell what’s coming down the pike here well in advance. Haven’t you noticed that everything you do is so tediously predictable? I know these programs can be useful—I have one on my hard drive as well, but I try not to be a slave to its built-in stupidities. Why don’t you go back to square one, get some old-fashioned manuscript paper, maybe a pencil—that’s a wooden tubular object with lead at one end and an eraser on the other—and try writing your stuff without being hog-tied by this inflexible piece of software designed by folks who probably don’t even know what a rallentando is?”

“I would, John, but I just don’t have time. I already have at least a dozen commissions to fulfill.”

“You what???”

“Yup. You heard me right. I’m booked through 2015.”

I look at him in amazement, but he’s already packing up his stuff. He winks at me and claps me on the shoulder.

“Could be you’ll be looking for a new career pretty soon, John. I’m already up to Opus 40, and I just bought this thing last week. Anyway, gotta go. My pit-bull bitch just had a new litter and I have to go online and find some new names for the pups. I think I call the first one Cubase.”

Comments (28)

Ryan M
May 12, 2010

Many of your posts are starting to remind me of Robert Schumann's collection of musical aphorisms for the young. For example:

"'Dumb keyboards' have been invented; practice on them for a while in order to see that they are worthless. Dumb people cannot teach us to speak."

More amusing, though, are the "conversations" between Master Raro, Eusebius and Florestan, usually berating critics:

"One voice that blames has the strength of ten that praise." F.
"Alas!" E.

Soon we'll start to see "M.P." printed below the staff at the end of your scores.

Phillip Golub
May 12, 2010

I can't exactly feel great about this piece, because I pretty much write at a computer (granted, always with at least one of my hands on a piano -- i.e., I like to say that I write at the piano with the computer by my side, not the other way around...) but anyway, what I wonder, is whether the problem addressed here is actually an issue among serious composers. Surely Marcel (not exactly what I would call a "serious composer") would not suddenly become an excellent composer were he to put his computer aside and get out some good ol' manuscript paper. Composing isn't just using a pencil. But parody, hyperbole, satire, all that jazz aside, among people who /actually/ compose for a living, or go to school to learn about it, or teach it -- composers that is, not great composers' crazy neighbors (or eye doctors or even dutiful highway patrol) -- I question whether this problem is truly prevalent among real composers. Someone who wouldn't copy and paste, who wouldn't /not/ modulate (assuming he/she were in a definitive key in the first place...), who wouldn't write a piece that is in "4/4, and the tempo is quarter note=120. The first page is full of 16th notes all cascading down the scale in perfect parallel motion. Then on the following page the same 16th notes go UP the scale, again in perfect parallel motion. That goes on for about sixty pages until an empty bar appears, apparently announcing a grand pause... " in the first place, because s/he knows that is not good music, wouldn't face those "problems" with writing on a computer. It's true, there are issues. Sibelius playback is a joke and cannot be relied on for $h!t, thoughts about what a real player can do can be lost in translation, overall form and planning of the piece can easily be ignored, the transpose key is arguably more accessible than it should be; still, a good composer should know these things and be able to overcome them when writing, dare I say it, on the computer.

Mixed Meters
May 12, 2010

John, there are a thousand million composers out here, each and every one with some sort of computer composition program. And not one of us gets any attention, much less a commission or a performance. And 99.44% of what we write is crap. That statistic should not be surprising because subjectively that same percentage of everything, everywhere is crap.

But there's an upside. If everyone who thinks that they have something to express feels as though a computer will allow them to share it through music, then we should be pleased. It means that some sort of a musical conversation will begin in our society from the bottom up. Berio said "The most meaningful analysis of a symphony is another symphony." "Pink Tequila" is your optometrist's analysis of a pop tune. Enough Pink Tequilas and popular music could become more than just a background for lyrics and instrumentals will make a comeback.

Recently my cousin announced that her high-school age daughter had decided she wants to be a composer and asked me the inevitable question "What software should I get?". My answer, agreeing with yours, was "a pencil and a pad of manuscript paper." I suppose I should have added "and a very large eraser."

Patrick
May 12, 2010

Should us Washingtonians expect a NSO program change for the upcoming two weeks?
"The NSO Board wishes to announce an improvement to the symphony programs for the next two weeks. Previously announced works by that tired pedant John Adams will not be played. Instead, vibrant compositions by little-known iconoclastic West Coast composer Marcel Proust will be heard."

David G.
May 12, 2010

Don't listen to him Marcel. I'm from NY and I know a cynic when I read one.
Use that laptop to play back that approximate symphony. Unless you have the piano chops to play a condensed version of your work, you'll get to hear how the form of your opus works or doesn't, along with which tempi work best. You'll be able to decide if that clarinet will blend best with the horn or perhaps bassoon. Test those claves -or switch it to timbales. And go ahead and cut and paste that theme - but try it up a fourth and backwards. Yes, Finale can do that with a few clicks.
Sure start out your sketch with pencil and paper but not many composers have the ultimate privilege and luxury of hearing our hard work played back to us by the best orchestras in the world. No, sadly, we mortals have to suffer with what playback tools are available to us so that we might hear a semblance of our work which will help us learn and improve.
And one more thing Marcel... I would be thrilled if my dentist wanted to discuss his lame attempts at composing... Anything would be better than hearing about his latest round of golf.

Andrew Hudson
May 12, 2010

I can't decide which is more ironically revealing about the state of classical music these days-- the blog, or the comments?

Either way, thanks for a good laugh!

Charlie
May 12, 2010

This is coming from the maker of "Hoodoo Zephyr"? One of my favorite records! Wasn't that done in something like Cakewalk?

Doug Palmer
May 12, 2010

Are you trying to say that if, instead of spending months editing, cutting, rearranging and generally agonizing until I managed a listenable expression of my musical philosophy, I could get commissions by simply cutting, and pasting over some drum machine beat?
Is this to be my reward for taking music seriously?

Nathan Courtright
May 12, 2010

Phillip- When you question whether writing at a computer is truly a problem among "real composers" I would say that it is. I'm a composition major and the first thing my composition professor said to me when addressing the writing process is to stay away from the computer as long as possible. The computer is not for writing and despite all the "help" it provides it is more of a hindrance. The computer only limits you with bar lines meter changes "too many beats in a measure" errors and secret code. I dare say that a composition can be written faster if the computer is never touched until all the notes a first on manuscript paper rather than going straight to the computer. That is just my two cents on whether or not composers struggle to find balance between pad and computer.

John, as always, great post.

Richard
May 12, 2010

I don't get it. You compose with a computer and then later copy it on to manuscript? I realize that this notational software is a bit, let's say overly democratic. But then again ultimately one either has ideas as a composer or one doesn't.
Means of execution is unimportant. There's a bit of pot calling the kettle black here. I've always felt it was a bit snarky to take this position, plus the idea of "copying into manuscript to be more in touch with the music" seems a thin facade for producing manuscripts just so they can later be sold.
Novelists don't write with fountain pen anymore either.

Evan Kuchar
May 12, 2010

When paper and pen were invented 1000 years ago, I'm sure there was a similar backlash. Ultimately, the composition of music should go on in imagination not on paper or computer. So, theoretically, there shouldn't be a difference in how the music sounds. But: the problem/advantage of computers is that they make it so easy to compose without actually imagining it first, so they encourage laziness, trial-and-error and the sorts of aforementioned "copy/paste" problems.

I am quite sure that, using a computer, any self-professed musician could compose something actually worthwhile through trial-and-error and countless listenings--it will just take a while.

Mark K
May 12, 2010

The Great Composer az Hell Don! Ya! Would sir like a Ferare Ohrushair chocolate? Well I like my cut and paste and nugde by a 16th or two then transpose computer options on my cubase to see what the canon sounds like options. I think I'll go for the print score out then make alterations with pencil - a kinda happy medium. Computers are great - I learnt to read music at the ripe old age of 33 because of them - (to a certain extent) so much so I can now look at JA scores and exclaim in the style of Dr Bones McCoy - "My God man, do you have to change time signatures so many times in one piece?"

other people's dogs
May 13, 2010

Wow, looks like you're the asshole here. Regardless of how atrocious the aforementioned composition may have been, why would someone who “may be the most vital and eloquent composer in America” need to post this on his own website. You have had great success, and it may be well deserved for the hard work you have put in, but this is undeniably low. Keep it to yourself, you don't need to do this. Is this supposed to be inspirational? or is it just supposed to demonstrate how someone can be not as skilled or innovative as you are? There are plenty of people who write bad, unoriginal, predictable compositions. Why focus on them? What's the point? What am I supposed to get out of this? The ten minutes (and lets hope it didn't take any longer) you spent writing this, could most definitely have been used in a more positive manner, next time you think about writing something so irrefutably negative, maybe go brush your teeth instead, do a couple push ups, kiss your wife, or wash your face, and look in the mirror and think about how great you are.

ugh
May 13, 2010

we too can tell when you copy/paste and drift into vaguely polytonal music. even if you mask it with a million other random notes.

Master Raro
May 13, 2010

Why must these people write such mean things about John Adams? If you don't like what he says, then don't read.

"The extraordinary in an artist is, to his own advantage, not always readily appreciated." -Master Raro

Paul H. Muller
May 13, 2010

Well I compose directly in Cakewalk, use cut & paste and try to write 100 bars of original new music each week. Then I post it all on a website where others do the same. We listen, comment and discuss each other's works then we go back and do it all again the next week. So I read this post and thought it could easily be that John was talking about me. Fine.

But in the 9 months I've been doing this I have improved orders of magnitude over my efforts of the previous 10 years. With notation software, electronic realization and the Internet I can connect and interact with like-minded musicians all over the world.

All this has freed music from the dark ages of patrons, the academy, commissions and public performance as the yardstick of success. Most of the people I see everyday are wearing ear buds and are not standing lin line to buy symphony tickets. Who's to say that music written to be heard - and not performed - isn't the future?

Patrick
May 13, 2010

RE: "All this has freed music from the dark ages of patrons, the academy, commissions and public performance as the yardstick of success. Most of the people I see everyday are wearing ear buds and are not standing line line to buy symphony tickets. Who's to say that music written to be heard - and not performed - isn't the future?"
Two reactions: One of, if not the most, compelling and deepest aspects of music for me is that it is an acoustic phonomena. (I really don't like electronically generated/amplified music). For me earbuds are not going to replace a good hall and a finely balanaced (acoustically) performance.
My other reaction is to the idea that there is no community aspect to music making. Our music is made by us, for us, and we are social animals.

RSC
May 13, 2010

Well if cut and paste can work for Philip Glass, why can't it work for everyone else?

Austin Showen
May 14, 2010

Brilliant post, Mr. Adams! And so true...it is a shame people are no longer writing things down on manuscript paper. As a student at a public music school, I have witnessed such horrors that arise from Sibelius/Finale compositions. Also, I would gladly welcome a series of polemics from you, Mr. Adams, in the style of Robert Schumann or Claude Debussy as a previous poster suggested! Marcel Proost would be a very worthy heir to Monsieur Croche!

other people's dogs
May 14, 2010

Upon reflection I feel as though my comments were a bit harsh and to my own surprise oddly personal, if it were possible I would change them. It is foolish to completely ignore the laptop as a composition tool. It is an object just as the pen is with infinite potential.

Mephisto
May 14, 2010

This whole discussion is so backwards. Firstly, to the person who said "Well if cut and paste can work for Philip Glass, why can't it work for everyone else?"
You should realize that unlike John Adams, Philip Glass writes with a pencil and paper.
Secondly, I can't help but this post was a cry of insecurity from Mr. Adams. What is threatening about more people attempting to compose music? He's a talented guy, what is he afraid of?

M. Croche
May 18, 2010

Have you noticed the hostility of a blog readership?

Martin Walker
May 19, 2010

You misspelled Hofmannsthal, too... Pity Elgar didn't have him as a librettist, think of an Elgar opera Der Turm. Benjy would have gone green with envy.

Benjamin C. Brown
June 7, 2010

I agree that dependence on notation software can potentially dilute the quality of one's work while temporarily masking the inadequacies of the composer. I just got my undergrad in composition and I discovered through the process that I couldn't just sit down, start up Sibelius, and create the next great thing.

I design the structure of the work first on paper, while working at the piano to create melodies and counter-melodies. Software allows me to take all of the parts and put them together.

While I agree with some of what Mr. Adams is saying, I think it is a bit hasty to conclude that notation software leads only to the creation of "crap." I do not claim to be a compositional genius, but I have created works using Sibelius that were strong works, at least among student composers in our region.

I bet it is annoying that random people interfere with your personal life to show you their forays into amateur composition. However, I feel that that goes hand-in-hand with being a "celebrity" composer. A generation of composers looks up to you, Mr. Adams, myself included. How I wish I could have the opportunity to show you my work and receive guidance as to how better focus my efforts in creating music. In my eyes, a musician is always a teacher. People respect you and seek your knowledge and guidance. It is too bad that you find this annoying, because I see it as a form of respect and admiration for you and your work; violating that respect is a disservice to your fan base and it is a thinly veiled way of telling young composers to stop trying. As an admirer of your work and your story, this is a hard thing to hear.

David Coscina
June 19, 2010

This is a very interesting topic. Most fellow composers I know use a combination of means with which to get their ideas down and developed. Most of us start with piano and manuscript to get the main thematic ideas down in their most simplified form. I will say for development of said ideas, I prefer Sibelius or Finale for orchestral music as compared to Logic, Cubase, Pro Tools or whatever. Those programs almost force the user to improvise or play the lines in realtime to a metronome. Unless you have great piano skills, this is not an easy task, nor is it a foregone conclusion that it will still sound good because a flute or french horn does not sound good if its played in pianistically.

I do see where Adams is coming from. I learned the formal way with pencil then ink and full score. I remember inking my scores backwards because I'm left handed. I'm glad there are programs like Finale or Sibelius though. I HATED transcribing and copying parts out. Sibelius in particular has a very elegant means with which to switch between full score and parts. This I find helps me in voice leading and ensuring that the part flows as well as the sum of the composition's parts.

I don't however find these programs speed up the actual creative process. If I were to knock out some random shit, well yeah. But seeing that I have been studying Bartok's music these days and I'm working on a ballet that infuses his approach with composers like Ifukube and Takemitsu, well, it's still taking time to get things right. I try to bring a Mahler like complexity to my orchestrations so it takes a long while to ensure everything is right. Perhaps that's more of what Adams was getting at with this post. That technology gives people instant gratification and that they aren't willing to do the work needed to produce something lasting and of universal value (which doesn't mean it's not valuable to the author).

Ned Kellogg
August 4, 2010

(I hope you remember me)

Not only do I know how to use Sibelius, but I sort-of know how to do the electronic music program Logic Pro.

This makes me doubly dangerous. At least I know how to hit Backspace. In Sibelius it gets rid of the note or notes you've selected. In Logic Pro it erases the recording you just made. That allows one to express whatever musical judgment one has but doesn't guarantee its quality.

I've suggested your music to someone who is unhappy that we don't have a modern Mozart.

Your comment does remind me of what I once saw in the Freshman Union at Harvard - someone writing a piano concerto the old-fashioned way. I never found out who he was and didn't get to hear the piece.

Catherine
August 12, 2010

I just came across your blog - an interesting read - I found the above post humourous and while I agree with the key issue (for anyone trying to compose seriously) -it seems to me to be overly cynical and slightly elitist.

Becoming a composer is a life-long endeavour, one that (thank goodness) everyone can't commit to - but that's not to say people who do should look down on those who have a go for a bit of enjoyment - I'm sure you enjoy cooking (and sharing) a good meal or discussing matters that you are not an expert in - no-one is telling you not to do things (I hope).

I love some of the works you have written, and was suprised by your thoughts on this topic. Not that you shouldn't voice how you feel, but I feel for the people you may discourage from sharing a part of your world which you love.

Cary Boyce
August 26, 2010

A great cautionary tale. I work at an NPR classical station. The most inquiries about a "classical" recording is for Metamorphoses by Philip Glass. (We play about two minutes of it before a news break.) So we programmed the whole damn thing during a classical music hour. Nothing. Nada. No comments, no requests for info, zip.

So is there a moral here? What's good for two minutes gets old at 20? Several composers work at the station, and several have also commented: "From henceforth, I write everything in 4/4, no sharps or flats, nothing but quarter notes, and nothing but triads and seventh chords with no non-harmonic tones."

Your friend and Gaga may well be the waves of the future. Maybe we should ask them to look at our music and get a leg up. I'll be in the Bay Area at Christmas, can you set that up for me?

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