notes from the kelp

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear an excerpt from my brand new quartet, “Unabashedly.”

Maybe only a woman would make a comparison between composing and childbirth. Immediate disclaimer: I’ve done lots of the former and absolutely none of the latter, so hey, what do I know, anyway? But somehow, each new piece feels like a birthing process: something I’m emotionally attached to, that’s fraught with potential problems along the way, and whose eventual reality is a joyous gift in my life (would that the last statement be the case for all mothers; sadly, it’s not).

As the spring flowers bloom passionately on this Cove bluff path in the wake of last night’s downpour, so do these new notes of mine that finally reached the air for a deep breath a couple of weeks ago here in L.A., in the very capable hands of the musicians of the long-standing Chamber Music Palisades concert series. The green button will lead you to credits and info; the blue to a snippet of my… uh, delivery. All went smoothly; no painkillers were needed.

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear some of the Prelude from my “Evensong Suite.”

I’ve always felt that it’s important for a composer to have a life outside of music.
And that it’s also important, no matter how hard you work, to create some down time on occasion to recharge all that creative energy.
Proof, herewith.

I work ridiculously hard, because I’m compelled and manic, in a happy sort of way. I get to sleep anywhere between 5am and 7am, and am up again no later than noon most weekdays; composing and administering said compositions for all the hours in between, when I’m not in town moderating a panel, or speaking on one, or rehearsing a piece, or grocery shopping (see below; one does eventually run out of peanut butter) or chairing a board meeting, or cleaning up kitty erp (see below). It’s a wonderful life.

And this snapshot, taken about an hour ago, and posted just as a late-season storm rolls in off the Pacific as our hot tub warms up (are you tempted to visit yet?), shamelessly represents the Sybaritic, hedonistic, non-Puritanical approach Charles and I share in life that rivals only those sultry Corona beer ads on TV (some of you may be familiar with them).

Sundays are traditionally our day to be together and unwind, and either we’re on our sailboat in Santa Barbara (no, not this one in the photo), or we’re home at Paradise Cove. This winter’s weather– as you can see from many of my photos on this blog– has been cool and overcast, with a fair amount of rain. So more weekends have been spent in Malibu, and our Sunday hallmark is always a walk up the coast (the lower the tide, the longer the stroll), followed by emergency consumption of wine and other less vital yet still important nutrients often found in solid food.

Table on the sand: check.
Chardonnay: check.
Sailboat floating near the horizon: check.
Awestruck visitors poised at the water’s edge: check
Craggy bluffs: check
Incoming waves curling at just the right moment: check
Favorite companionship: check (he claims to be too shy to make a cameo appearance on this blog, plus it’ll blow his ID in the Federal witness protection program)

There is not a moment in my life when I do not celebrate such good fortune, and wish to share it with everyone.

The rain has begun. Out to the deck and the hot tub, to be immersed from all directions.federal allegacy creditcourses polysomnography accredited technologycolorado union credit alliantmlis ala-accreditedaaccess carf program agency accredited houseonline mft couses accreditedcredit union wichita accuacacia creditors hotel gardens Map

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear some of my collaboration with Delhi’s master 32-string veena player Thakur Chakrapani Singh, on my recent track, “Chakra Suite.”

Mine! He’s mine!
Ah, if cats could talk.
(good thing they can’t or my reputation would be in serious peril).
Well, maybe they can’t talk, but this pair sure knows how to sleep. In fact, they’ve perfected the many subtle variations on the same sleep theme, never seeming to tire of any. I could make a non-sexual Kama Sutra of kitty sleeping positions from all the photos I’ve got.
I am about to learn from these household masters, Smudge and Moses, and hit the sack after a long night in the studio.
It’s 6:44 am. G’nite!

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear some of the Adagio movement from my “Trio for Clarinet, Violin and Piano”.

On the phone with a dear friend today, we chatted about our various travels and she asked, “if you weren’t in Paradise Cove, where would you choose to live?”. Latitudes to the north and to the south sprang to my lips, some within the U.S. and just as many outside these borders. I mentioned something about preferring to be warm. “Florida!” she proclaimed. I shot the idea down without a moment of hesitation, out of hand. Nothing in particular against Floridians, although I sure would keep a careful eye on the current high level employees in the State government. No, my prejudice against Florida has solely to do with its… geology.
Flat.
Flat.
Really, really flat.
Did I mention how flat it is?
The thing I love the most about the craggy beaches of Malibu are these rocky, crumbling bluffs. One moment you’re on the sand, and the next you’ve got a sweeping vista across the waves to the Channel Islands. Of course, this works in reverse, too: more than a few folks with those nice views have unceremoniously ended up with sand and salt water in some unexpected places. That large house you see (which happens to belong to a Really Famous Couple) may not have quite as much yard for cocktail parties a few years from now.

Maybe because I was raised 160 feet in the air in a Manhattan skyscraper, I like height. Or maybe I just like getting an overview of things. Whichever, it’s an addiction, and I can’t imagine being too far from a place where I can see the big picture.5 viagra generic cialisxanax side affectxanax with adderalxanax aboutsildenafil 5 viagraviagra 0 herbalultram 100 tramadol pricesxanax alcohol Map

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear the main title from The Last Job, a film I scored many years ago.

I just KNOW there are some good notes in here…. somewhere…..

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear a clip from the Scherzo movement of my “Sonata for Piano”.

Like this godwit I stalked the other day, I am currently looking for a meal, but with less luck. I have a bad habit of going to the supermarket and stocking up on lots and lots of good things, and then not going again until all those good things are gone. Feast to famine; the direct result of my laziness/utter absorption in my work and life/inattention to basic needs. So here I am, foraging for a late dinner and sufficing with… several spoonfuls of peanut butter. Healthy and tasty! But not quite a well balanced repast. Oh wait…. I still have some ice cream…. ahhhh, now my meal is complete.

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear a movement from my “Evensong Suite” titled “Ascendit Deus,” to accompany this personal ascension.

Per the item below, here’s another example of why going to the post office can be so much fun.

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear a clip from “Desert Waves”.

The informal daily rhythm of our little enclave in northern Malibu has many charms. Top of the list is not having to dress for anything: sweats, jeans, shorts, sandals, pretty much year round, no matter how cold it is. And sometimes it’s very chilly here. The collective mindset, however, is in a complete, dyslexic denial of reality. We all think and act as though it’s 75 degrees, even when it’s 57.

My vanity prior to heading out to run errands extends only to the top of my head. If the state of my unwashed hair has reached the point where it frightens the cats, a baseball cap over a ponytail is the perfect foil. That, plus the sunglasses almost surgically attached to my nose, and I look damn near the mysterious celebrity I of course wish I were.

The standard triathlon at Point Dume is post office/bank/grocery store. It’s common to see the same people at each one in succession, as though an invisible track was magnetically beckoning us. But earlier this week the only errand that caused me to don my cap was a quick trip to beat the 5pm closing clock for some international orders that had to be mailed out. As I drove up the one mile stretch of Pacific Coast Highway, I was taken by the sight of a dark squall line hovering over the horizon. Storms coming in across the sea are riveting.

Mission accomplished, I pulled out from the post office and was set to head straight home and back to work. But my hands guided the steering wheel to the left instead of the right, and in two minutes I was exiting the car and walking up the sandy path that leads to the exalted tip of Point Dume, with high, watery views in all directions. I just had to be outside to breathe in this ionized drama.

As my body rose up the slope, I couldn’t stop thinking how amazing it was to be filling out customs forms and buying stamps one minute, and be here the next. Ahhhhhh.

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear “Unhinged,” to accompany this mysterious fog crawling up the bluff.

It is dawn and I am, finally, actually tired. Many nights I remain invigorated through the sunrise and actually resent the globe turning, as it does tend to, depriving me of my precious nighttime working hours. But now I am done and ready for deep sleep. This morning there is a thick and luscious fog that wafts up from the sea, licking the shouldn’t-still-be-green-at-this-time-of-year ground, sauntering past the hummingbird feeder, and caressing my roof. The dripping sound off of abundant ficus tree leaves is arrhythmic and wonderful. And maddening. Can I sleep accompanied by a pulse beyond my own?

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear some of the Vivace movement from my “Trio for Clarinet, Violin and Piano”.

The stairs that lead from the Point Dume Headlands to the sand. Yes, they are steep, although not quite as death-defying as they appear here. Perhaps forty feet up or so.

Perspective is a funny thing. From this vantage, the wave coming in looks as though it could be ten feet high, but it’s actually more like ten inches. And the cliffs appear to loom dramatically over their scree of fallen offspring, yet those rocks could be held in one’s palm.

The deceptions of photography always amuse me. I’ve heard more than one remark of surprise from someone just meeting me who had known my face solely from the website. Apparently, some are expecting a far, far larger person (in all directions) than the one standing in front of them. I suppose a different photo might be in order, but I always liked that one because it was taken when I wasn’t expecting it, as I suddenly turned from the wind on a blustery day at the Cove. I prefer that reality to something more contrived, even if more standardly beautiful.
Perspective is a funny thing.

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear a movement from my “Piano Suite” titled “For my Father,” to accompany the photo I took today of Westward beach during a wintery hour in spring.

I stood here, at this spot, with my late father a very long time ago. He had flown in for a quick visit from New York City, along with luggage he packed in the same apartment in which I grew up. It was a much sunnier day on that mid-1980’s afternoon.

This is Westward beach, the far end of better-known Zuma beach and directly around the bluff corner from the beach that leads to where I’m sitting now. If you time it right, at very low tide you can make it all the way around, exiting the coves that define the northern end of the Santa Monica Bay, and finding yourself suddenly facing a different combination of rocks and sand and memories.

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Click on the blue music icon above to hear a movement from my piano and percussion trio, “At the Abyss” titled “Act.”

I know I should be posting more regularly, and intend to get back on track with the at-least-every-two-or-three-day mantra I set in January when I began my happy journey into the blogosphere. It’s been a busy time and I’ve been in constant motion this week. Sometimes you just gotta go full speed, slam into a rock, make a splash, and go, Wheeeeeee!