Still puzzling over this remark from Judd Greenstein yesterday:

I would get so torn apart if I tried to pass of those Hamelin Etudes as my latest compositions.

Judd’s referring to these pieces by the Canadian pianist Marc-André Hamelin. They’re hyper-Romantic in a post-Liszty, totally non-ironic way. Let’s just say that if Rachmaninoff was born too late, Hamelin is, like, an Egyptian mummy.

Over dinner last night, Ted claimed that all the best performers are also composers (apropos of the fact that six out of seven members of his band Delusion Story write music). Hamelin’s a good example. He’s one of my favorite pianists, one of the few I’d happily pay my own money to go hear. He plays a mean People United. He plays Beethoven. He plays insane, piano-dork stuff like Alkan and Sorabji. I think we can all agree that more pianists should be like him—curious, unpredictable, eager to experiment, just a bit weird. Maybe more of them should compose, too.

Back to Judd’s comment. Isn’t he the guy who wrote a super-romantic piano piece and called it First Ballade? Yes, I believe he is:

Judd Greenstein: First Ballade

With respect to sound-world and pianistic writing, the piece is not so far from a Hamelin étude. So what makes Judd’s piece feel ‘referential’ and not ‘hopelessly out of touch with the compositional zeitgeist’? Is it because we bring to it our preconceived ideas of what kind of composer Judd is? Why does he get this privilege, and Hamelin doesn’t? I think I benefit from this same prejudice. I’ve written piece after piece explicitly referring to Brahms/Beethoven/Chopin/Mozart etc., and people seem to understand it as a postmodern collage type of thing. Funny, I don’t feel postmodern when I’m writing it.

Judd, is that you? You look terrible!

I don’t think Judd’s love for the piano, or my love for the piano, is that different from Marc-André Hamelin’s love for his instrument. It’s a matter of context. Judd and I both went to “composition school“. We both live in Brooklyn and drink overpriced cocktails and write pretty music. Hamelin’s old. His name sounds like he might be French. Shouldn’t he write, like, spectralism or something?

I have always loved the sound made by a fresh loaf of bread. Today I wrote a song about it.

Timothy Andres: Fresh Bread

If you’ve seen me play in the past, oh, six months or so, you may have noticed me reading music off this newfangled contraption called an “iPad”. Recently I added to this an AirTurn pedal, a little wireless switch that lets me turn virtual “pages” with my feet, which is good for those instances when I can’t spare a finger. Lots of people seem to like to ask me about this situation post-concert, and it’s actually a really boring subject, so I thought it would make a great blog post.

I didn’t get an iPad for the purpose of reading music. I got an iPad because I thought it was a neat toy, and my pops had an extra one. The music-reading evolved naturally as part of the composing process—I’d write a little something on my computer, and instead of hauling it over to the piano (which is all of 15 feet away) I started emailing PDF files to myself and reading them off the iPad. Heretofore, printing out multiple drafts was just part of writing a piece (I’ve found that composers tend to go through LOTS of paper) and I was glad to be rid of that step. Reading off the screen is not bad, either; while it’s maybe not as big as I would like, and can only display one page at a time (instead of two side-by-side, as with a printed booklet), it’s big enough for most normal-sized piano music. And who knows, perhaps some day there will be an iPad XL super edition.

Initially I read scores in iBooks, which is the built-in eBook and PDF reading app that comes with the iPad. This became untenable pretty soon. There’s no way to make annotations in iBooks, and worse, there’s no organization system. You can’t rename anything or edit metadata, all your scores just end up there in a big pile. Enter ForScore (haha get it?), an app which several musician friends recommended to me. It’s specifically built for organizing and reading scores, and has a ton of useful features—annotations, a metronome, page scaling/cropping, a built-in browser (oh hello imslp.org), bookmarks, auto-repeats, and lots of delicious metadata.

Unfortunately I don’t love ForScore. For all its eagerness to help, the interface is really quite crude and awkward. It’s one of those deals where you constantly need to be in the right “mode” to do this and that, and select the right “tool”. It feels very old-fashioned in this way; I wonder if the program’s designers are Finale users. Say you want to mark a fingering: you’ve got to tap-and-hold to get into “edit mode”, make sure you’ve got the “stamp tool” selected, select a number stamp from the little palette, zoom in to where you want to place it (otherwise it’s hopelessly inaccurate), and press “done” to get out of edit mode. A bit more involved than, say, pencil and paper.

Even worse: once you’ve gone to the trouble of annotating a bunch of scores, you can only export them in the proprietary .4sc format, otherwise you lose your markings. That sucks. The PDF file format supports annotations and metadata just fine; ForScore’s reliance on its own format is a pretty transparent lock-in attempt.

Here is what ForScore looks like:

Turning pages on the iPad is easy enough with the tap of a finger, but sometimes, of course, one can’t spare even that, which is why I bought an AirTurn pedal last month. It’s a very simple foot switch connected to a Bluetooth transceiver. The batteries in the transceiver last for days, and you recharge the thing by plugging it into a computer with a mini-USB cable. The iPad basically recognizes it as an external keyboard, albeit with only one key: Page down. Of course, this means that when you’re paired with the AirTurn, the iPad doesn’t show its onscreen keyboard, which is the MOST ANNOYING THING EVER. If you want to, say, send a quick email, you’ve got to disconnect from the pedal in order to type on the damn thing. This, too, sucks.

The hardware is pretty nice, and quite unobtrusive; I put the pedal to the left, next to una corda. It takes maybe a week to get completely used to this, but once you have, you’ll find yourself reflexively tapping the floor when it’s not there. I opted for the clear plastic pedal, which makes it nearly invisible to the audience; this is a good thing. It’s also nearly silent in operation; I glued a layer of cork sheeting on mine just to dampen that extra “clack” you get with leather-soled shoes. You can connect a second pedal to go backwards, but who wants to do that?

Performing, however, is where the iPad + ForScore + Airturn combination shines. You can make a setlist in ForScore and it will automatically move on to the next score. It’s also got a nice feature called “debounce”, which prevents you from accidentally hitting the pedal twice and turning two pages. It’s really smooth, and of course, in performance is when it’s most important for the experience to be seamless and reliable. Just remember to charge your batteries.

I can’t stop thinking about that damned cover. I don’t like it, but I don’t know exactly why. It’s ballsy, and it doesn’t particularly offend me, but the very first time I saw it my reaction was “Not OK”.

The cover was designed by Barbara deWilde, who has done some wonderful work for Nonesuch in the past. Her work often conveys meaning with a certain bluntness or literalness, which is one of the pleasing things about it. My favorite is her design for Michael Gordon’s Weather:

If you’ve ever talked to Steve, or heard him speak (much less listened to the man’s music), you may agree that he can be similarly direct, often to the point of bluntness. I don’t have any “inside information” on how this cover came about, but I can imagine it appealing to him. As in: let’s not just use a photo of the twin towers, let’s use one of the most visceral, gristly, in-your-face photos that exists—the one where the plane is an instant away from the second tower.

Anyway, they’ve already given 9/11 the dreamy-and-elegiac treatment, with this beautiful cover by John Gall:

Interestingly, while the WTC 9/11 photograph may have incited controversy, the typography is utterly appropriate: the titles are set in Gotham, the same font used by the 9/11 Memorial, the Freedom Tower’s cornerstone, and on and on ad infinitum (including, umm, this here cover).

So, if you don’t want that photo in your iTunes library, but you enjoy Gotham, then here, I made something for you:

UPDATE, 7/29/11: Bob Hurwitz has a typically eloquent response.

Quick gig alert. This Saturday (July 23) at 8, I’ll be playing with Ted Hearne’s band Delusion Story at the giant post-industrial commune at 33 Flatbush Avenue (otherwise known as Exapno). We’ll be playing some of your favorite TedMusic (including Is it Dirty) and maybe a couple of brand-new tunes as well. The band is Ted (vocals), Leah Coloff (cello & vocals), Taylor Levine (guitar), Nathan Koci (accordion & keys), Ron Wiltrout (drums), James Ilgenfritz III (bass), and yours truly on keys. There are some really stellar performers in there, no joke.

If you’re not dead of heatstroke by then, be sure to stop by!

In an confluence of things I watched Persona and The Talented Mr. Ripley back-to-back this week. I love it when things juxtapose themselves just so as to illuminate each other. Minghella must’ve had Bergman in mind during this “Doppelgänger” shot on the train:

Why do you do that thing with your neck?

Neither movie uses this Schubert song, though, which seems like a missed opportunity (or maybe it would’ve been too obvious?) Take it away, Dietrich:

Franz Schubert: Der Doppelgänger

I just eat this stuff up.