Maslanka Symphony No. 10

Wind Ensemble Presents Maslanka Symphony No. 10 World Premiere Scott Hagen, conductor Tuesday, April 3, 2018 Libby Gardner Concert Hall Pre-Concert Discussion: 6:45 p.m. Performance: 7:30 p.m. Program (Please hold applause until the end of each section and turn off all electronic devices that could disrupt the concert.) First Light David Maslanka (1943-2017) The Seeker David Maslanka Intermission Symphony No. 10 : The River of Time David Maslanka I. Alison with Matthew Maslanka II. Mother and Boy Watching the River of Time (1982- ) III. David IV. One Breath in Peace Please join us immediately following the concert for a reception in Thompson Chamber Music Hall Wind Ensemble Personnel Piccolo Bass Clarinet Bass Trombone Ali Parra Raymond Hernandez Peyton Wong Flute Contra Bass Clarinet Euphonium Mitchell Atencio Carla Ray Michael Bigelow* Sara Beck Matthew Maslanka Ali Parra Saxophone Garret Woll Diego Plata* Cameron Carter McKayla Wolf Max Ishihara Tuba Chloe Wright David Kidd James Andrus Timothy Kidder Matthew Lindahl* Oboe Lisa Lamb Brenden McCauley Haehyun Jung Erik Newland* Erika Qureshi* Jordan Wright Timpani Yolane Rodriguez Andy Baldwin Robin Vorkink Horn Taylor Blackley Percussion English Horn Sean Dulger Troy Irish Robin Vorkink Korynn Fink Nick Montoya Bradley Sampson Cris Stiles Bassoon Kaitlyn Seymour* Olivia Torgersen Hans Fronberg Amber Tuckness Monah Valentine Dylan Neff* Taylor Van Bibber Brandon Williams* Kylie Lincoln* Trumpet Piano Contra Bassoon Zach Buie* Carson Malen Hans Fronberg Jacob Greer Zach Janis Celeste Eb Clarinet Eddie Johnson McKayla Wolf Maggie Burke Reed LeCheminant Peyden Shelton String Bass Clarinet George Voellinger Hillary Fuller Maggie Burke Jacob Whitchurch Myroslava Hagen Elihue Wright Harp Janelle Johnson Melody Cribbs* Samuel Noyce Trombone Alex Sadler Shaun Hellige *principal player Michal Tvrdik Ammon Helms* Jairo Velazquez* Alex Hunter* Erin Voellinger Brian Keegan This performance and recording project are genersously supported by the Thomas D. Dee II Endowment. Special thanks to Michelle Addison, Robert Bedont, Doug Brown and Wind & Rhythm, Miguel Chuaqui, Adam Griffiths, Scott and Myroslava Hagen, Claudia Horton, Eric Laprade, Matthew Maslanka, Maslanka Press, Mark Morette and Mark Custom Recording Service, Anna Oldroyd, Vanessa Perala, Stephen Steele, and the outstanding students of the University of Utah Wind Ensemble for their committment to Maslanka’s music. Program Notes David Maslanka (1943-2017) First Light (2016) First Light has two characters. They are marked in the musical score as “unforgetable wounds - darkness,” and “perseverance - first light.” It has been my experience that no real change, no transformation occures without crisis. We don’t move if we don’t have to. This is as true on the societal and environmental levels as it is on the personal. We are facing huge crises in our society and in our world, with every aspect of human darkness rising to the surface. It is my faith that we, with imagination, work, and perseverance, are at the edge of a profound transformation - a movement into light. -David Maslanka David Maslanka (1943-2017) The Seeker (2016) In Buddhist tradition the bodhisattvas are the seekers after enlightenment. It can be said that we are all seekers on this path, the path of self-understanding, of the heart of compassion, of caring for the world. The bodhisattvas are put forward as models for our own seeking: Avalokiteshvara: the way of listening in order to relieve the suffering of the world. Manjushri: the way of being still and looking deeply into the heart of things and people. Samantabhadra: the way of acting with the eyes and heart of compassion. Ksitigarbha: the way of being present where there is darkness, suffering, oppression, and despair. Sadāparibhūta: the way of never disparaging or underestimating a living being. The Seeker is subtitled “a symphonic movement.” It opens with a slow melody that feels like an Appalachian folk song. It transitions suddenly and sharply into the main body of the work, an energetic and exuberant romp at a very speedy tempo. The opening melody returns in the context of a chorale, my recomposition of Christe, der du bidst der Tag und Licht (Christ, you who are day and light) from the 371 four-part chorales of Bach. The movement concludes with a partial recap of the fast music, and a very brief coda. -David Maslanka David Maslanka (1943-2017) Matthew Maslanka (b.1982) Symphony No. 10 (2018) On Composing and Symphony No. 10 David Maslanka, May 2017 This is my practice and experience as I understand it. Walking has been extremely important in my concentration practice. Walking engages the whole body, and both halves of the brain. It is an integral part of my composing process. When the mind is relatively clear and open it is possible simply to enjoy the mental vacation. In fact, I recommend this to people as a way of recharging the mind during the course of a busy day. Walking may not always be possible but five minutes of this practice sitting at your desk lets you bring a different energy and clarity to each engagement. When the mind is open it is possible to ask a question or make a request such as “show me something I need to know about the person who asked me to compose” or, “show me something I need to know about the music I am starting to write.” I have been asked more than a few times if my practice is lucid dreaming. As I understand it, lucid dreaming is the capacity to control or direct the movement of a sleep dream. My work with inner travel and dreaming is not like this. It is not controlling but allowing. It is being fully present with an inner experience – a feeling, thought, musical idea, meditation image, dream memory, etc. – allowing, following, accepting but not controlling or judging. This is not loss of control but rather partnership. The heart of music appears on its own terms and in its own time. There is what I think I want the music to do and there is what the music wants to do. The heart cannot be commanded, cannot be arrived at purely by intellectual choice. This is not passive waiting for inspiration; quite the contrary. The work is regular and purposeful. With these ideas in mind I want to describe some of the process of Symphony No. 10. With each symphony comes an increasing sense of weight, that each has to be “important,” has to somehow match up to the history of symphonies. These are personal, emotional ideas, and not the least bit helpful in the writing of a new piece. This kind of thinking arose first with Sympho- ny No. 5. “No. 5” has been a marking point of consequence for composers of the past. It took significant work to release the “oh my God” and worry elements, and then to let my own work become itself. Symphony No. 9 was worse. This is the serious bugaboo point for people writing symphonies in the western music tradition. “No. 9s” are historically the crowning achievement, and then … death. My No. 9 was written in 2011 and I did not die. Getting past all the history of ninth symphonies was a lot worse problem than for No. 5. No. 10 was freer in a way – not the same load of historical baggage – but the need to be “important” was just as intense. The work began as always with meditation: “show me something I need to know about the piece I am going to write.” Here is the first image that came: The Holy Mother takes me sliding down a rocky mountain slope, all loose small rocks. It’s a wild stony country, very little vegetation, many beautiful colors in large rock forma- tions, brilliant sun. We find a large pool nestled among tall vertical rock faces. The water is turquoise blue. We go into the pool and swim/flow downward, rising again toward a circle of light. At the surface is a “divine” place of craggy multicolored rock faces. A voice speaks my name and says, “you are ready, receive what wants to come through…We are here. You go and do.” And the second from a few days later: I am met by the Holy Mother in the guise of an 18-year-old Swiss farm girl – blonde, pretty, traditional dress. I am shown various views of the earth and the oceans. The earth is clean, the oceans are clean. Humans have come into balance with the earth and are happy. The farm girl shows me a farm full of milk cows. The world is still technological but we are living an agrarian life, I am shown a large beautiful auditorium where music is being made. The girl thanks me for what I have done to make this new world possible. This is an odd thought for me to accept. Then came the usual problem of composing. “I” desired to write an important piece. In my vague imagination it was like one of the big symphonies of Dimitri Shostakovich, my favorite modern symphonist. But my inner compass kept dragging me away from that, and pulling back to the humble world of the chorales. A pattern began to emerge of a chorale and a response, the response being the evolution of a radically simple, intimate, and beautiful melody. This process kept repeating itself until half a dozen of these melodic pairings began to emerge – all simple, beautiful, personal, not “important”. At each step I continually questioned whether this was the symphony that needed to be: “Really? Seriously? This is what you want me to do?” – yes. Finding the structural line for the whole piece was extremely difficult.

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