The nature of
the source materials
The first Geographical Prelude was conceived in a motel room
in Alpharetta, Georgia. It may be found on the first page of this collection. I
was in Alpharetta to attend the Georgia State Sacred Harp Singing Convention in
March of 1999. Between sessions of the convention I was furiously composing
under deadline, a short orchestra piece called “Some Melodies From Alpharetta”
which I had promised to my colleague Angel Gil-OrdoƱez for the Wesleyan
Orchestra. The idea for these preludes had been vaguely rattling around somewhere
in the back of my brain. Suddenly I realized that the hexachoral progressions
at the heart of this modest symphonic work would, with appropriate simple
figuration, make a good piano prelude. The realization of this idea proved to
be more difficult than its inspiration, and the final version of this prelude
was only completed a year and a half later.
Geographical Preludes, then, could be spin-offs from other
works. The next to be composed, Middletown Prelude No. 1, was in fact a
radical reconfiguration of a vocal piece written and recorded (never publicly
performed) several years earlier. The Homerville and West Palm Beach preludes
similarly reconfigure and/or develop portions of earlier compositions, my
variations for harpsichord (1961) and “The Year of Jubilo” for piano and
pre-recorded sound (2001) respectively. And the New Haven Prelude is an
arrangement for piano of one of the bell pieces in my major work “CONVERGENCE: Some Parades for Charlie’s
Dad.” In all cases, of course, the pieces of paper — the physical objects —
were hand-crafted in the eponymous locations.
The third to be composed, the Champaign Prelude No. 1, is
based on chord progressions I wrote as compositional exercises while in
graduate school. I saved these pages, as I have saved dozens of other pages of
progressions, melodies, rhythmic and orchestrational conceptions, etc. over the
years. The Birmingham, Helena, Rochester and Tuscaloosa preludes are the result
of similar recycling ventures from my student days and even my childhood.
More often, however, these preludes are the result of
on-location sketches, made specifically for this purpose. I have attempted to
sketch spontaneously, that is, to write what comes to me quickly, without
editing. Sometimes it is a melody; sometimes it is a progression; sometimes it
is a mode. Some of these ideas are fragmentary in the extreme; others are
longer and more fully developed. Making the prelude from the sketch can be
laborious or easy; it took me a year and a half to figure out what to do with
the fragment which became the Buena Vista Prelude, but the Hadley Prelude
practically wrote itself.
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