I'm getting a piece performed, yaaay! It's called Tango Notturno. Here are my liner notes:
Since I'm not a famous composer (or, at least, as famous as a composer can be these days), I have not often been asked “Why did you write such and such?” I have, however, been asked the question enough times to know that the correct answer is not “Because I felt like it.” Never mind that that's the real reason behind me writing anything. There is a palpable disappointment in the eyes of those who receive that answer. Also, they never really believe me.
I suspect the answer people are looking for is more along the lines of “Because writing music is the Meaning of Life!” or “Because writing music is a one lane highway directly to the very face of GAAAAWD.” I suppose those could actually be the answers to “Why did I write such and such,” but if they are, then the Meaning of Life and the Face of GAAAAAAAWD are curiously mundane. Truly, I wake up one day, think to myself “Hey, that melody is kind of neat,” and then I write it down.
But, as I mentioned, that's not really the correct answer. So I'm going to pretend like my answer to the question “Why did you do what humans often do?” is not “Because that's what humans do,” and give you the real truth of why I wrote the Tango Notturno. It goes like this. I was walking along one day when I was approached by The Terrifying Technicolor Turtle. For those who don't know (I don't know how you can't, but people also don't think that writing music is something that people just do without good reason, so I suppose anything is possible), The Terrifying Technicolor Turtle is about 40 feet tall and speaks Pig Latin. For the sake of clarity, I will translate what it said to me.
“WHAT WOULD YOU DO FOR A KLONDIKE BAR?!?!?!”
To which I replied, “Holy shit, a giant talking turtle!”
The Terrifying Technicolor Turtle reiterated its question.
To which I replied, this time, “I don't know. Write a song I guess?”
“THEN YOU WILL WRITE FOR ME A TANGO!”
“Ok, sure, but why a tango?”
“BECAUSE ALLITERATION IS SERIOUS BUSINESS.”
“... but these words don't alliterate in Pig Latin.”
“DO YOU WANT A KLONDIKE BAR OR NOT?”
So I wrote a tango for a Klondike bar. It was the best Klondike bar ever.
--- --- ---
Writing the tango was not without its problems, however, and all those problems were named Astor Piazzolla. Quick history lesson. Piazzolla did to the tango what Beethoven did to the Symphony: explode the form to previously inconceivable heights, and, in the process, ruin the form for everybody who wanted to compose in that form forever after them. Not that that is the fault of Piazzolla or Beethoven, so much as it's the fault of their raving, frothy fans.
It goes like this. Somebody writes a tango (symphony). You want to be hip and cool so you write it like Piazzolla (Beethoven). The frothy fans get all frothy and say you're just being a copy cat, your piece is unoriginal, it sounds just like Piazzolla (Beethoven). So then you try again. You write something that sounds as far from Piazzolla (Beethoven) as possible. The frothy fans get all frothier, and tell you your tango (symphony) isn't a tango (symphony) at all because it doesn't sound like Piazzolla (Beethoven). It's round about this time that you, soaked to the shins with froth, stab your accuser in the stomach with a rabies shot, because people don't just froth like that unless they've been bitten by a rabid animal in the past 48 hours. You're doing them a favor either way.
I'm not sure if I successfully skirted the line between writing something that is clearly a tango without sounding overly like Piazzolla or not. To be sure, there are a number of similarities, but, to paraphrase Brahms, even a comatose pigeon would be able to hear that. There's the sustained melody line, the crashing piano bass line, the tango rhythms, etc. etc. But my sense of harmonic progression is certainly different, as is the approach to form, and the piece lacks a bandoneon part. Among other things, I suppose. It doesn't much matter, because Tango Notturno kicks butt, so it doesn't need me to write an apologetic for it. Either you like the tango or you don't, and if you don't you're outnumbered. The rest is for musicologists to figure out, bless their hearts.
