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June 7, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

acm_logo_full_smallerI had a grant deadline recently for my organization Access Contemporary Music and I was including the proof of our non-profit status as I’ve done so many times before but this time I actually glanced at it and saw that we had received our official status, and incorporated, almost exactly ten years ago.

In effect, we forgot our own birthday. And such a milestone too! We had been active under the name before 2004 but once we incorporated and got non profit statues was when things really started to move. Our concert season came shortly afterward, the first school in 2007 and the composer membership program in 2010 and now we’re bringing our more successful initiatives to other cities and looking to continue to grow from there.

The best thing for me personally is that we finally have infrastructure. For nearly ten years I was running all of our programs myself and everyone was telling me to delegate but it’s hard to do with volunteers. Once I had staff and was able to effectively delegate the organization really took off.

I think now that the biggest mistake I made early on was this lack of delegation. I always felt so guilty asking people to do things for which I couldn’t pay them. I completely neglected to remember that giving them ownership over a project is a great motivator, that it’s not so much asking them to work for free as to give them a way to express their support for the organization.

If I had been better at motivating volunteers and hadn’t always felt reluctant to ask people to do things I think we’d be further along but there’s no sense in dwelling on that. This is definitely something I now share with young arts leader. Now I have to get good at asking for money!

May 30, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

I’m in New York covering the New York Philharmonic’s inaugural Biennial, a series of concerts celebrating contemporary music, and it’s been amazing but something even more amazing just happened: I was asked to voice their Biennial Minute video series.  This is a great honor as I feel that they could have gone with virtually anyone, from Alex Baldwin to any of a dozen radio hosts in NYC.

I’ve scripted all five of them and recorded the first voice overs. They’ll be released throughout the Biennial.  Here’s the first one!

May 17, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

ThirstyEar_11My third annual Thirsty Ear Festival is coming to City Winery on July 12!  We just got the lineup done and it’s going to be an exciting show.  Thirsty Ear is a special two-hour live broadcast of my show Relevant Tones on 98.7 WFMT and it’s designed to feature an eclectic mix of interesting performers in Chicago and elsewhere.

This year’s headliner is Graham Reynolds who I met when he was performing in Chicago many years ago.  I spoke with him a little bit backstage before his performance and thought we had a similar philosophy toward music making and then the performance was excellent so he was someone I definitely wanted to keep in touch with.

I describe Graham as Lou Reed meets Shostakovich meets Duke Ellington.  His music has this angsty cool that has to be heard for you to know what I’m talking about.  He’s a fantastic pianist and drummer in addition to a composer and his performance will be wonderful.  The other two groups are Fonema Consort, a vocal group that leans toward extended techniques and interesting, often experimental sounds and the Gaudete Brass Quintet, an energetic virtuosic shot in the arm of musical adrenalin.

Tickets are on sale so don’t miss Thirsty Ear!

May 10, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

palomar_logoI’ve thought a lot over the years about how ACM’s Palomar ensemble should relate to the rest of the organization. I decided to give the ensemble it’s own name about seven years ago when we were still called Accessible Contemporary Music.   When the group would play on something outside of our concert series it just seemed so clunky in the listings to see Accessible Contemporary Music performs at the Empty Bottle.

What does that even mean?  It doesn’t sound cool, that’s for sure.  Not that I worry too much about being cool but if you’re playing someplace like the Empty Bottle then a mouthful of a name like that, with all of the negative connotations, seems almost calculated to keep the normal patrons away.  So, I thought the ensemble and the whole performance element of ACM could be called Palomar and for the most part it has worked fine.

But then there has always been the question of who is Palomar?  Are they a stand alone ensemble that contracts to perform on ACM concerts?  Are they a group of freelance musicians playing ACM concerts?  And especially now as ACM moves outside of Chicago and starts bringing shows to Austin, New York and hopefully Boston and other cities soon, this question is more important than ever.

In Austin we hired musicians there and only flew myself and our conductor down and I think that worked well.  I’m thinking now that Palomar is, as I think of it, a continental collective of excellent musicians in cities around the country.  Of course I’m already looking into events in London and Helsinki so it may become intercontinental in the near future, but let’s not quibble.

The idea of having a standing body of excellent musicians in different cities around the world is enormously appealing to me.  Of course I’ll want to have storefront music schools in these cities too eventually.  The ACM presence in a city will consist of storefront music schools, a body of musicians who are part of Palomar, Open House projects, Sound of Silent Film and other innovative collaborations designed to bring out new audiences to hear new music.

Sounds simple and we’ve done a nice job of it in Chicago but spreading it around the world will take some time. But what else have I got to do?

May 3, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

timequakevonnegutI remember vividly when Vonnegut’s last novel Timequake came out in 1997.  I actually went to the University of Chicago to hear him speak and bought a signed copy of it.  One of my first author autographed books. This would become something of an obsession with me and I now have a great many signed books.  Of course there are fewer author signings now that no one reads and no one has a physical book to sign but that’s for another day.

I’m thinking about Timequake now because of a Malcolm Gladwell article in the most recent New Yorker in which he talks about late bloomers and prodigies in the arts.  The example he cites most frequently is Cezanne as the ultimate late bloomer versus Picasso as the ultimate prodigy.  Cezanne borrowed money from his father all his life and didn’t make his first masterpieces until he was in his sixties.  Picasso, well, everyone knows about Picasso.

All of this was very interested to read, especially as I consider myself to be a late bloomer, certainly rather than a prodigy.  But it also reminded me of Timequake in which Vonnegut divides creative types into “swoopers” and “bashers.”   A swooper is someone who creates easily, the inspiration flows and the quality of the work is generally even.  A swooper creates pretty reliably good art with relatively little effort.

A basher on the other hand is someone who sweats and struggles for months, even years on a single piece of art and the quality is not always even.  A great example that I think of from history are the two greek playwrights, Sophocles and Euripides.  Sophocles was a swooper. He wrote effortlessly, he was instantly successful and the works that have survived are all of high quality and there’s no reason to think that the other works were any different.

Euripides, however, took much longer to write plays and he wrote many plays universally considered to be awful.  But when he was good he was the best there ever was.  Sophocles couldn’t hold a candle to Euripides when he was writing at his best.  For the record, Vonnegut considered himself to be a basher.

I’m definitely a basher, no doubt about it.  A late blooming basher killing myself to bash out uneven work. I only hope that the best of that work has a tenth of the power of Euripides, or Vonnegut himself for that matter.

April 20, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

gay-modernismJust finished reading Peter Gay’s history of modernism and it’s a great read.  He does an amazing job of distilling a very complicated subject into a readable book that mostly makes sense.  But my intention is not to review his book but to voice a complaint.  And that is, let’s just shut up about modernism already!

I’m so tired of hearing modernist this and post-modernist that.  The original idea of the modernists was to stop basing architecture, poetry, art, music, etc. on classical models that came from the Greeks and Romans.  Well I think we’ve succeeded at that.  I don’t know about you but I never think about the ancient world when I’m writing music.

I certainly don’t care if my work is modernist or post-modernist and I don’t care about it in architecture either.  People created according to classical principles for a long time, then a group said make it new and then another group came along and said well let’s go back to classical models and now some are doing one and some are doing the other.  None of which is particularly surprising or interesting.

So, let’s declare modernism a success and move on.  Quit the talk of modernist and post-modernist and come up with a new way to discuss art and architecture. It would really make me happy.

April 13, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

galactic_drifterWorking on the last of the three movements of my new work, now titled Inner Visions, inspired by the art of Sanya Glisic.  This one is called Galactic Drifter and I absolutely love it.  Who is this guy? What worlds has he visited?  As I did for the other paintings I kept a series of journal entries to help me sort out what the work means to me and how I can represent it musically.  Here are my thoughts on Galactic Drifter.

Galactic Drifter – like a Star Wars character is the first thing I think of.  Possibly shouldn’t be the first thing I think of but it is.  He’s dancing too or seems to be, clapping his hands to an unheard music.  His face is covered with a bandana or part of a one-piece outfit of some kind?

Or are those obscuring lines over his body? I like the way those lines become color-inverted in the rest of the piece, what was green is white and vice versa.  He’s wearing some kind of watch or intergalactic travel device. Yes, that’s a chronometer that he wears that also has the power to transport him through space and time.

And he has sharp looking boots on, he’s a sharp dresser in general.

Prophets of tomorrow – like an imaginary tarot card. He dances like a devil, looks like a devil or a death card that signifies change.  He has his hands up in the air palms out which signifies …?  Not sure.  His face is like a cross between a wolf’s and a crocodile’s and again, like all of her characters, he is a sharp dresser.

What to do musically?  Something kind of sneaky but plaintive too, must be lonely drifting around the galaxy like that. I think there will be a sax solo, not sure why but it just seems right.  Shouldn’t the galactic drifter have a lonely sax solo?  Yes, I think so.  Mostly pizz in the cello, sneaky kind of bass line, perhaps somewhat bluesy.

April 10, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

SOSF_AustinThe last time I was in Austin I was 21 years old or so and on a road trip from Columbia, MO to Albuquerque New Mexico.  We decided to go the long way and drive to Memphis and then down I-55 to New Orleans and then west to Dallas and Austin before making the final trip to New Mexico.

We slept in the car or on the floors of friends, both new and old, we drank too much, we frequently ran out of money, it was a blast.   But I remember Austin making a special impression on me. It was much like Columbia but a lot bigger and, so I thought, much cooler.  We were there for three days staying with a friend and his karate instructor, a Jewish Mexican guy, yes, that’s right, named Saul who smoked pot incessantly but was widely considered one of the best martial arts instructors in the city.  Interesting guy that Saul.

After the three days we were on our way but only made it as far as Odessa, TX before the car broke down.  You see, cars apparently need oil to run, especially in hot climates. It’s not like we didn’t know this in theory but… well we just didn’t think about it.  We burned out the engine and the car was going no place.  It was Friday night and so we had to stay in a hotel until Monday when we could sell the car for salvage and get bus tickets back home.  Those two nights in the hotel were pretty epic too but, another time.

So here I am twenty-one years later in Austin again and again find myself really loving it.  First of all the venue for Sound of Silent Film is also hosting the Texas Burlesque Festival which is kind of wonderful.  And then there’s just music everywhere you go here.  I’ve been here for four days and have not gone into any restaurant that didn’t have live music.  Incredible.  Viva Austin!  Can’t wait to come back next year!


April 8, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

ascentStill hard at work composing music inspired by the works of artist Sanya Glisic. This one has the rather provocative title The Ascent.  For each of these paintings I’ve kept a journal of my thoughts to try and sort out what the heck the work means to me and how the heck to represent it musically.  Here are the entries about The Ascent.

Initial thoughts upon seeing the art

But I love this one.  The imaginary city, distant metropolis like in my own imaginings. Makes me happy to see such a thing. I think of grounded music, majestic but mysterious that does slowly ascend but never transcends the initial feeling of mystery.  And the figures above the cosmic city, what to make of them?  Are they bizarre trapeze artists depending from lines with no apparent anchor?  Are they animal or mineral?  Sentient beings?  protecting the city? Facilitating its ascent?

New thoughts 4/2

I was thinking in bed this morning that you have to go down in order to go up and that perhaps the piece should start in the high registers for each of the instruments and then gradually work their way down and then start back up.  But looking at the art again I’m not sure this is quite the right idea.

The painting has a mountain city or palace or some kind of fantastical structure, or series of structures, on an island and then there is the silhouette of that too.  Then there are the strange seraphic creatures acting like censors above the city.  What are they doing?  The dotted lines look to me like ropes upon which they swing or not ropes exactly but some kind of gravitational bond that holds them in the air and allows them to swing over the city.

If you look carefully too you’ll see dotted lines emanating from one of the pointed structures on the right of the city.  There also is a fault or crack in the firmament to the right side of the bottom of the work.

There’s something vaguely, or maybe not so vaguely, reptilian about this painting.  What if the censor/seraph creatures are swinging wildly above the city like trapeze artists?

Ok, some actual music now.  The cello bows open fifths on open strings, G and D will work.  This throbs with submerged power and a sense of fateful portent.  Then the winds, what do winds do well?  They make these blendy beautiful ugly weird sounds well.  They can be cold, ice cold. I know the painting is full of vivid warm colors but the contrast between the cold winds and the throbbing cello, the powerful cello underneath with the cold interjections on top I think will be nice and will convey the sense of power but also desolation. The city appears to be empty after all.  Powerful desolation defines the opening of the piece.

Then after a minute or so of this the ascent will begin.

March 30, 2014
Posted by Seth Boustead

worryaboutI’m in the midst of writing music inspired by the incredible art work of Sanya Glisic. The first thing I did was start a journal of my thoughts on each of these works.  Here are my thoughts for this one titled “What We Worry About, What We Can’t Help”

How to depict this picture musically?

The sea of orange is the very first thing I see. I am lost in it, searching for a focal point.   Which is the oasis of flame.  Which is the focal point for the various figures apparently trying to move toward it.  Or many of them are trying to move toward it, not all of them.  Some are resting or taking a break or perhaps worshipping it.   It’s also a self-contained tableau, there are no waves outside of the central field of vision.  You know, it’s not an oasis, it’s a flame.  The figures are not human, not fully realized or recognizable as anything.  They are representations?  Parts of the soul yearning for the fire?

At any rate, yearning, sea of orange, focal point. how do you depict orange in music?  Should i worry about that?  I create a sense of infinite space with waves, a sense of recurring, predictable motion.  The figures want to go to the flame. In this moment the flame has always been there.

The piece of music begins with the arrival of the flame.  The figures would not be going toward it if it had not arrived relatively recently.  There is a great event, it is the arrival of the flame.  There is a kind of scattering that is caused by the flame, there is a sense of struggle to get to the flame, they do not reach it in the painting so they do not reach it in the piece.  THe piece does not fade out and away, it still struggles to reach the flame until the very end, but we do not know if they get there. It is outside of our knowledge.

What to make of the title?  We can’t help trying to reach the flame?  A spiritual goal?  We all want to have a spiritual goal and can’t help it?
What do we worry about?  Day to day things?  All of which seem to have been stripped away in this screenprint.

The piece opens with an eerie kind of sound but there is also a sense of motion right away in the cello.  The sax is in its lowest register, the flute is singing an eerie siren song.  The clarinet is bending through micro tones.  It’s an uncanny sound that we’re going for here, restless, irresistible.

There’s an ambiguity in the work too that I like and that I think is represented musically in the faster section.

The first section through the fast section should feel like you’re stuck in molasses, trying to reach the flame, the waves are there, the motion but it’s harder to get to than you might think.  The faster section is what we can’t help.  The worrying is the trying to reach the flame, the faster section, what we can’t help is perhaps being sucked into the flame.  What, then does the flame represent?  Something good?  purity?  Is it important that we reach the flame?  Is anything important?

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