Brendan Eder Ensemble; Mixing Notes, Improv, and Time

 Featured artist interview, with discussion on Brendan Eder's 2020 album To Mix With Time.

Extended interview!

The Superhero Theme Project Part 6: Hawkman

I knew the Hawkman or Hawkgirl request was coming.  There were several issues that I foresaw, and my superficial knowledge of these characters’ accepted canon provided relatively little background with which to navigate them. With their closely interwoven history, I was wondering if these two characters even deserved separate themes, or one singular “Hawkperson” theme. The majority of the Little One’s exposure to Hawkman and Hawkgirl has been through the Justice League animated series, which, if you are familiar with the series, doesn’t paint either character in the most positive light. As great as it is, however, the show is a little too violent to let her watch without sitting beside her as a moral guide, so we have backed off from watching it regularly. Hawkman does show up in her Super Friends Busy Book, though, so he was her initial request and my template for finding a theme.

I already had something in mind, and it pretty much sounded like Anvil of Crom. This song has clearly settled in as Wonder Woman’s theme, but its martial power certainly seemed appropriate. I briefly considered O Fortuna from Carl Orff's Carmina Burana, but this felt too diabolical and gothic.



The Ride of the Valkyries was another suggestion that came up, and in some ways, this piece certainly conveys an aspect of the character. Like all of Wagner’s instrumental pieces, however, unedited, it’s just too long. Even in an edited form, I don’t think that I could listen to it three or four times in a row every day for the foreseeable future. Wagner did not ask for this piece to become the Nazi war theme some seventy years later, but the cultural baggage is still there for me and it renders The Ride of the Valkyries inappropriate.



I came back to the 2nd Movement from Shostakovich’s 10 th Symphony, which was in the running for Flash’s theme. This piece has an unbelievable energy, but it also has a feeling of menace that did not match the sleek drive I wanted for the Scarlet Speedster. For Hawkman, however, it’s aggressive, warlike vigor felt like a good match, and its swirling chromatic lines brought to mind birds of prey circling overhead, waiting for the opportunity to rain down havoc from the sky.



I loaded it onto the playlist and waited, and soon enough, she made the request on the way home. She listened intently to the entire thing, but did not ask for a replay. I was disappointed, but not terribly surprised. It seemed a far cry from the elegant simplicity of her favorites. There is a whole lot going on this piece, and although I was drawn towards its intensity and complexity, I wondered if it might be a bit too much for a 2 year old. Still, there is a ridiculous amount of memorable melodic material to draw from.

I thought that perhaps a bit of reinforcement would help. When getting into a complex piece, becoming familiar with even a small chunk often helps me to gain a foothold on the whole thing, so when we got home, I went straight to the piano. I can’t fake a recognizable version of the Spiderman song (it is, after all, freaking Zappa!), but thanks to the miracle of ear training, I can play short melodic excerpts from the pieces related to Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, and Aquaman. I gave her a little quiz, and after a few successful rounds, I threw in the opening riff from the Shostakovich. She shot me a confused look, but with a little help, she was able to correctly identify it as "Hawkman." Then our attention started to wander back to Dinosaur Train, juice, and other normal after-school activities.

Then, no mention of Hawkman again for two days. I thought I had found the boundary of what she could absorb, but then one afternoon, with absolutely no prompt, she requested Hawkman. Then again, and again, and again – four times in a row before I called it quits. Every time, she wiggled and grinned and shook her hands with enthusiastic energy.  It was as if the piece had to sift around in her subconscious for a few days before it could take hold, which, due to its complexity, may have actually happened. I can now “drop the needle” nearly anywhere in Symphony 10 Mvt. 4 and have her triumphantly exclaim “Hawkman!”

Success.

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The Superhero Theme Project Part 5: Aquaman

Despite being an original member of the Justice League with a history that predates DC comics as a company, Aquaman gets very little respect. The ability to breathe underwater and control aquatic life was compelling when the character was pitted against World War II U-Boats in the pages of propaganda comics. Outside of this environment, though, he’s just another strong guy that talks to fish. Today, he’s best written as an environmental crusader and sometimes even a dissident, which doesn’t translate well into the street-level settings that his more visible peers inhabit. Still, there are dedicated writers who believe in the character, and for those that are willing to check the footnotes of comic history, Aquaman has suffered through no small amount of tragedy and triumph in his canon.

Probably for no other reason than his gravelly-voiced rendering on the Super Friends animated cartoon I watched in my youth, I also have a soft spot in my heart for the character. I completely understand why he is a hard sell to a wide audience, but I still see him at the sitting at the very foundation of the DC universe. I was happy to see that he regularly appears in the Little One’s bedtime board books alongside Superman, Batman, Flash, and Green Lantern, so she had an opportunity to connect with the character.

When it came to looking for Aquaman’s theme, I obviously had to acknowledge the splendor of the ocean. My first pick was the final movement from Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, a composition called The Great Gate at Kiev. This piece had a couple of strikes against it, however, he most troubling of which was that most renditions pass the five minute mark. Also, it is not a driving piece like many of her favorites. The Great Gate of Kiev derives its interest from its proud theme and dynamic contrasts rather than brisk tempos, and I was not sure that it would hold her attention throughout the quieter sections.

I continued doing research, reviewing the space opera themes that I came across during my research for Green Lantern, but they did not sit right. The imagined majesty of space is probably informed by the actual grandeur of the sea, but I don’t think that they should be synonymous. The ocean’s magnificence is distinct in that it is ancient and dichotomous. As long as humans have stared out into it, we have been viscerally aware of how it is simultaneously serene and terrifying, welcoming and defiant. As the King of the Atlantis, Aquaman doesn’t just survive in these extremes, he is the master of them. His theme had to be more than majestic – it had to be regal. I came back to The Great Gate at Kiev, counting on the piece’s thematic strength to keep her engaged.

Once I decided on the piece, I began planting seeds for the Aquaman theme during her evening book readings. When Aquaman came up, I pointed out to her that he was one of two heroes in the book that still don’t have songs. I told her that he had one and that if she could remember to ask for Aquaman next time she was in the car that I would to play it for her.

The next day we were going through her usual favorites while out on errands. While we were waiting in the parking lot for my wife to run into a store, the Little One, without any prompting, requested “Aquaman.”  She was immediately very, very excited by its attention-grabbing opening.  Because the car wasn't in motion, I was able to guide her through the imagery I had in mind.  Her interest in The Little Mermaid and the Dinosaur Train submarine episodes thankfully provided some context for what lies above and below the ocean’s surface.  Our imaginary Aquaman navigated these extremes with ease, alternatively mastering the waves above water or swimming peacefully under the surface.  Needless to say, the five minutes went by very quickly.  When my wife came back out to the car, the Little One excitedly screamed “MOMMY, AQUAMAN!”

Success.

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The Superhero Theme Project Part 4: The Flash

He is not particularly strong, he doesn’t fly, and he’s doesn’t talk to fish, but The Flash is still very easy to describe to a two year old: he’s “fast.” That description implies a lot musically, but I did not think that it would do for his theme to merely have a quick tempo. I had a specific sound in mind, and although there were many pieces with parts that were appropriate, there was not a single one that seemed to fit. The opening of Holst's Jupiter, with its rippling arpeggios and driving pulse, rang pretty loudly in my ears, but as an entire piece, it is too long. I want to save The Planets for when astronomy catches the Little One’s attention, anyhow.



With this vague idea as a starting point, the list of contenders seemed to grow longer and longer, but nothing seemed right. One of the finalists was the Flying Theme from E.T.



It is undeniably fleet of foot, and has a memorable melody that I could pull out of context to define the character. Still, it was a bit too soft, and as a definitive John Williams composition, it broke the “musical favoritism” rule.  Additionally, a quick poll revealed that E.T. is still relevant kid’s TV, so she might end up seeing the movie. Finally, the last two themes I had pulled from existing soundtracks, and it was not my intention to co-opt her entire superhero theme repertoire in this way. I wanted to mix in more "serious" literature as well.

The texture I was looking for was minimalist, but most of my go-to composers in this genre capitalize on the meditative qualities of the style. I was looking for something brighter and more driving. After seemingly endless digging, I recalled a work called Short Ride in a Fast Machine by John Adams. I had not heard this song for many, many years, and even then it was only by relatively superficial exposure in a 20th century music class. Its name alone, however, suggested a revisit, and it immediately caught both my attention and imagination.

This song was driving and intense, and it captured the bright, festive intensity that I saw as essential to The Flash. More importantly, it was a piece that was relatively unfamiliar to me, and I was excited about examining it more closely alongside the Little One. It did break a cardinal rule, however, because the song is not defined by a clear melody. Its musical interest is generated by broad harmonic changes and disorienting rhythmic dissonance. Short Ride in a Fast Machine would, in a sense, be the most programmatic selection I had made, but once I seriously considered it, any other song just did not seem right. I took the risk.

By the time I got the song on the playlist, she had been asking about The Flash for a couple of days. I was not sure exactly what her ear would be drawn towards, so I did not give her much of a cue. I just asked her if she wanted to hear “The Flash,” and she excitedly said she did. Within moments of its first playing, her eyes widened excitedly and she gleefully screamed from the back seat “HE’S RUNNING!”

Success.

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Steve Reich's "Tehillim:" Walking, Thinking, and Dreaming

When we finally got to contemporary music in my undergraduate studies, the topic was noticeably rushed. Perhaps this reflected the musical preferences of my professor, who seemed to get bogged down by his passion for romanticism, or perhaps it was because the 20th century was still in progress, but at any rate, we were encouraged to fend for ourselves on the subject. I was enthralled by what little I had heard, and I made a list of composers that I wanted to follow up on if the chance presented itself. Fortunately, this happened in the mid 90s when I was working at the Blockbuster Music in Lewisville. This flagship store prided itself on its dedicated “classical” department. When promotional materials came in from 20th century composers, there was very little competition from anyone else in the store, so I slowly began to check names off the list.

I felt somewhat familiar with minimalism by way of Philip Glass, so Steve Reich, being lumped into the same category in the textbook, earned a spot on my list. In 1994, I picked up a release of Tehillim, which I brought home and proceeded to not listen to.…at all….for nearly five years. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn.....

In retrospect, I don’t exactly know why I took it off the shelf in 99, but I know I did. I distinctly remember listening to it in my discman (remember those?) on an afternoon walk sometime during the two years I lived in Krum. I discovered this album on that walk.  Tehillim’s pulsing, overlapping complexities ended up being an intellectually and kinetically invigorating soundtrack to an unexpectedly contemplative experience.


This performance starts at 1:39, and it has really nice lighting accompaniment.  When I stumbled across this clip, I was struck by how much larger the ensemble is than I had envisioned, and consequently, how much more complex the piece actually is.   

Although Tehillim has never gotten major rotation in my car, it has certainly remained in my listening orbit.  I regularly revisit it in quieter indoor settings.  Only recently, however, has another listening experience been able to dislodge the meditative walk I took over ten years ago from my memory. When my wife and I first began dealing with the unusual hours that a newborn infant foisted upon us, I set up a dedicated MP3 player in the room by our rocking chair and filled it with different kinds of soothing, intellectually stimulating music. It’s got Eastern Indian ragas, shakuhachi performances, jazz, Indonesian Gamelan, cross-cultual world music, ambient electronica, Stick music, and all manner of other styles floating under its “random album” button. There are also several minimalist composers represented, and obviously, Steve Reich is one of them.

Tehillim gained a new life for me in this venue. I can say with some confidence that a few months ago, the peice kept me from going totally bonkers when it was my turn for the dreaded 3-4 AM feeding. Thankfully, the Little One sleeps well through the night these days, but she still needs a little winding down before bedtime.  The booming lullabies that come from my mouth, however, just don't work like my wife's do. Tehillim, alternatively, serves as a wonderfully peaceful bedtime listen. Although it is calming, it is certainly not intellectually vacuous, like perhaps an ambient album or white noise machine might be. It’s incredibly expressive and deceptively complex to perform, and I can’t help but think that getting those structures in her ear as she drifts into dreamland is doing that growing brain some good.