My solo flute piece Oyez was inspired by the friendship of a flute-playing composer I met as a college freshman. The title of the work refers to the function of a town crier who first shouted “Oyez!” before proclaiming the news. It also refers to the Latin origin of the word, which means “to hear.” Oyez employs a wedge shaped 12-tone row in its first movement (A-flat/B-flat/A/B/G/C/F#/C#/F/D/E/E-flat). A short pause is indicated between the second and third movements. The tone rows of the second and third movements are respectively: (E/E-flat/D/A/F#/G#/B/G/B-flat/C/C#/F) and (A/F/E-flat/D/A-flat/G/C#/E/B/C/F#/B-flat).

If you look at the notes for my 3 Movements for Horn and Piano, you will also read about the circumstances under which this work was written, when I was confined to my university dorm during week day evenings, without a piano. The 'angst' present at the beginning of this piece in the material of Theme I never returns in the recapitulation, which is a significant formal aspect of this work. The thinning out of the beginning texture into a much simpler density, and the expanding use of counterpoint v/s the homophonic aspect of Theme I is also an important aspect of this one movement piece.

Movements for Trumpet, Horn, Tuba, Snare Drum and Piano, was written in 1965, but remained untitled and kept with many other works of that period which I only began to premiere around 1983. After reviewing these works in 1979, I gave this chamber piece its title. When I think of this work I always think of the many chamber works of Charles Ives, which have unusual instrumental combinations. At the time of composition of Movements I don't recall being aware of any of Ives's chamber music, as many of my favorite Ives chamber works were only first recorded in the 1970's. I suspect Ives's reasons for choosing unusual instrumental groupings for many of his chamber pieces are similar to my own: the desire to express both humor and profundity, along with the joy of creating original music, through musical ideas that can only be realized through new combinations of instruments.

The theme is that of a children's piece by my friend Ron Phelps, a writer who also has written solo piano music over the years. The title of the children's piece by Phelps was Proust's Waltz, from Marcel Proust. I don't know exactly where the Proust reference in the title comes from, perhaps a specific aspect of Marcel Proust's personality, or maybe something in Proust’s writings. I was taken with the theme, and wrote a set of variations that in part described Phelps's own personality. It is called 5 Variations & a Theme, rather than the usual Theme and Variations because the theme at the beginning is only given in fragmented or variations form, and is only revealed in its complete original form near the middle of the work. As many of Mr. Phelps’s early works of both prose and poetry were structurally organized in sets of 5’s, there are accordingly 5 “movements” or variations in this work, the first four of which have contrasting tempi and moods. The fifth movement is “cyclical” in the sense that it is essentially a repetition, without the “introduction” of the first movement, of the first movement, complete with a “flashback” from the second movement, an extended “bridge” section, and a surprise ending in C major that provides symmetry with the sudden shift from C major to C# major in the bridge from the introduction to the first variation. Humor and profundity intermix in various ways throughout this work, which is an “incomplete portrait” of another artist: Variations I and II have distinctly contrasting characters, and are “framed” by an introduction at the beginning of the work, a transition section between variations I and II entitled “Transition: Out of It”, and the “bridge” between variations II and III entitled “Theme” which, by means of a tied/suspended C natural, effects both a shift from C# major back to C major and a smooth entrance into Variation III. However, there is no comparable “bridge” or “transition” section between variations III and IV; instead, the “etude” of Variation III spills immediately into what I call the “Spanish Dance” of Variation IV, which is titled in the score “Anything Goes”. The “etude/dance” character of Variation III is sustained with only a slight slowing of the tempo at the beginning of Variation IV. After a repetition of the first six bars of Variation IV, a two bar “bridge/transition” leads directly into “Recapitulation One”, followed immediately without interruption into “Recapitulation Two”, both of which repeat material from the “Danse” and “Etude” from Variation III. Thus a formal “blurring” between and among Variations III and IV is achieved which perceptually also “blurs” the listener’s perception of the actual number of variations of movements of the piece. A five bar “bridge” in C, but actually atonal with an ascending chromatic “row”, ends with the tied/suspended C# that connects with the beginning of Variation V. This atonal “bridge” is entitled “Nobody Knows.” “Epilogue” is the title of a companion piece which also has “literary” associations with the same poet: Upon arriving at his parent’s home in anticipation of attending his wedding on the same day, I found him absent, but discovered lying atop his writing desk a short story about myself entitled “Stephen”. After reading the short story I immediately composed “Epilogue” in one sitting at Mr. Phelps’s piano. The beginning ascending chords are reminiscent of Gesualdo; the “child-like” character of this piece is a true “epilogue” to my “Five Variations and a Theme”, and these works may be performed as such in concert together.

[In] sections of my piano piece MOSAICS, […] I took various piano passages from my third song cycle and "recomposed" them, with various degrees of alterations, into the "mosaic" fabric of the solo piano work.

Requiem was written at the request of the Japanese Zen Master Roshi Kobun Chino Otogawa. His request was for a composition with “long breaths, which can bring peace to people’s minds.” It was to be for a ceremony for everyone who had ever passed away from incurable diseases. When I thought of this ceremony, I thought of Shostakovich, who died of an incurable disease that progressively debilitated his muscular system, and his book “Testimony of an Eyewitness”, in which he expressed regret that Soviet Science had been unable to conquer disease and aging. When considering the dedication for my Requiem, I thought not only of Shostakovich, but of all people who have passed away. Requiem was originally begun as a work for 3 violins in a triangular seating arrangement, surrounded by 12 temple bells with different pitches. After composing the first 52 bars of this work I learned that 12 such differently pitched temple bells were not available. I then retained the music for 3 violins up to that point and finished the work without temple bells. Requiem is composed in 12 sections, each of which has a different pitch center drawn from successive pitches in a 12-tone row employed throughout the work. Due to these pitch centers, the contrapuntal nature of the 3 violin’s parts, and the way I composed these interrelationships, pitch centers often assume the character of “tonal” centers, complete with “tonal” cadences, etc. The physical gestures, long silences without visible motion from the performers, and tranquil demeanor they should cultivate during performance, are very important expressive aspects of performing Requiem. The generally tranquil character of the long melodic “lines” (lengthy in time as well as space in the musical score) is another important aspect, as are the simultaneities in perfect fifths, which emerge from the gradually decaying dynamic that ends the piece. This is balanced by tension at the beginning of the work expressed in contrary chromatic motion and never equaled throughout the remainder of the piece. Requiem can thus be perceived as a “response” to the knowledge of aging, disease, and death, by moving into varied modes of tranquility and acceptance without emotional defeat, but rather by expanding one’s spirit.