To Boldly Go...

I first met Spock via my parent's black and white television when I was 8 years old.  It was instant infatuation.  Star Trek was shown in reruns every afternoon at 5:00, and I was there, glued to the TV.  I'd never known a man like him, so cool, so intelligent, so impressive in a Starfleet uniform.  After an hour of traveling to distant galaxies and saving yet another alien race, I would run into my backyard and make up my own adventures.  On my own worlds I was Spock's little sister, just as smart, but cuter.  I had a fruitful imagination and loved contemplating life, the universe, and everything.

Then I attended middle school and high school, and Spock's little sister disappeared under all the mind-numbing banality of a compulsory education combined with the societal pressures to not be "too weird."  I pursued music and drama with passion and performed well in my school classes, but there was no denying a certain lack of zest for life.  I had lost some of that joie de vivre that had been my nature on board the Starship Enterprise.

Then I dutifully trundled off to college to study music.  Life was quite terrestrial until a fateful day in composition class when my professor played "Ancient Voices of Children" by someone of whom I was only vaguely aware, George Crumb.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing;  hypnotic percussion rhythms, sultry oboe melodies, a clangorous toy piano sounding Bach, and above it all the ethereal soprano of Jan de Gaetani singing texts by Lorca.  Heady stuff, and definitely off the planet.  In fact, I was certain I was once again exploring strange new worlds.

George Crumb is my favorite living composer (he was born in 1929.  Hang in there, George!).  After that first exposure to his music, I eagerly sought for more.  I gave a presentation on his string quartet "Black Angels" for my composition final one semester, and performed "Makrokosmos Volume II" for my junior piano recital.  I eventually performed Volumes I and IV as well.  I loved his adventures in timbre.  His piano music demands that the pianist sing, hum, whistle, play on the strings, rap on the soundboard, etc.  Suddenly Beethoven seemed so...pedantic.  None of these effects feel contrived or superficial.  Au contraire, a deep sense of spirituality and enlightenment pervades his music.  Every gesture, each plucked string or delicately intoned harmonic is perfectly placed as if they are part of an organic whole and can exist no other way.

His scores are a delight for the eyes as well.  In this day of computer notation programs, Mr. Crumb does it the old fashioned way with a pen, paper and a straight edge.  His titles are as beautiful as his manuscripts.  Who wouldn't enjoy performing "Ghost Nocturne:  for the Druids of Stonehenge," or "Spiral Galaxy?"  I could at last answer, there is intelligent life in the composition universe.

Twin Suns
by George Crumb

Tutored as I was by Mr. Spock, it is only logical that I continue on my quest for new life and new civilizations, and I hope to find them in the music yet to be created by living composers everywhere.  Live long and prosper, Mr. Crumb!

Mr. Spock

George Crumb