Thoughts on "Rain" for Marimba Ensemble and Track

My path to composition was not a traditional one. I started out as a Juilliard trained performer and a teacher. Eventually I became bored and I began venturing into new territory. I desperately wanted a new outlet to be creative but composition never actually crossed my mind. It was producing that initially peaked my interest. I had a lot of friends who were in the producing world and something about it fascinated me. As a classically trained musician, I had always been taught that using one's ear and "listening" was something that was done primarily through notes, tone, color, and balance. I marveled over the idea that in the world of producing, the ear took on a much larger role as "what was heard" went beyond the music. The actual "sound" itself became so important. That's not to say it wasn't important before but producing seemed to add a third dimension. This was definitely something I could explore.

I have always felt that the modern marimba lacked enough character to be a serious instrument and I have always wanted to play a role in developing it further. I felt that learning about producing was a way I could essentially get inside of the sound and create characters that touched new audiences. I started making tracks using pro tools and eventually logic. I built up a small collection of mics and started to record myself. I experimented a lot with everything from samples, stock sounds, and even my voice. All throughout I watched tons of videos to learn as much as I could. Over time my ears changed dramatically. I started to hear everything!

At the time I didn't realize it but in making the tracks I was technically composing music. I just didn't see it that way. In fact I didn't even write a single note until a few years later. It's safe to say that I definitely came to composing through producing. Looking back I think I just wanted to know more about music and how it was actually made beyond the notes. Once I understood that process, writing the actual notes became easy.

"Rain" is ultimately about embracing the randomness in creativity and life.

Rain was developed during this time. I had sampled a few water sounds for several different projects I was working on. I made a few core beats from these samples. You can hear one of them in Rain today. One evening, I developed an improvisation around this beat playing several marimba parts with 1 mallet in each hand. At the time I had no clear ideas for the music except that it was inspired by the water beat I had made. I recorded it and put it away.

Nothing much happened after that. Remember, at the time I was still technically not coming at this stuff from the vantage point of a composer. As far as I was concerned I was simply experimenting. It wasn't until much later when I was actually "writing music" that I went back, listened, and realized that I had a piece that was attempting to create a rudimentary sonic representation of rain using the marimba as the primary musical vehicle. I went through it note for note and transcribed it into Sibelius.

At this point I basically had a beat with marimba parts. It was interesting and it sounded really cool. I gave the parts to my students at NYU and we gave a trial performance on one of our Marimba Ensemble Concerts in 2012. However, I still felt like something was missing. It wouldn't be until later when I formed Boyar Music Studios that I would finally build a track around the music in order to publish a full version of "Rain." I should backtrack here for a moment and point out that prior to developing the published version, I had actually tried to build a track around the music on several occasions but I could never get it right. Looking back, I can now see that I lacked the production experience and the ears to bring my ideas to fruition. This is no longer a problem.

As with most of my music, there is a metaphor at work. "Rain" is ultimately about embracing the randomness in creativity and life. It can be a very painful process at times, but it is something that (at least for me) must be practiced. Flexibility is an art form unto itself and it is by far the most natural order of things. My artistic development is no exception and "Rain" is a culmination of not only this process but more importantly, this philosophical understanding. Nobody can predict how or where the drops of Rain will fall but when embraced it's truly beautiful and sometimes there's even a rainbow afterwards.

Copies of Rain for Marimba Ensemble and Track by Simon Boyar can be purchased here.

Thoughts on "The Void" for Percussion Ensemble

"The Void" came together during a very strange period in my life. At the time I was living in Brooklyn constantly sketching songs, concert works, and solo pieces yet I could never release anything. Why? 

Here's a little back story...

I experienced a moderate degree of early success in my career. By the time I was 25 I was teaching at 2 major schools, performing as a concerto soloist around the world, and regularly freelancing. In a very short period of time, I became an established member of the professional community. It happened very fast. It sounds great but at the time I was truly unhappy. I always felt like something was missing. Looking back I know now that my frustration was the product of two things, one emotional and and other artistic.

1) Emotionally, I simply didn't know how to manage my feelings.

If I didn't like something I didn't know how to "feel the feeling" and let it go. Instead I would dwell on it and let it endlessly rot. This was truly destructive behavior that led me to perceive much of my life in a skewed way. My training only added to this. While learning how to play, I had been critical of myself for such a long time that it had become a habit and a lifestyle. 

2) Artistically, I was unfulfilled.

Beyond being unfulfilled I was sincerely confused. All around me people were telling me that I was successful but I didn't feel that way. I didn't even feel like a real artist. I felt like a phony and a fraud. I also didn't feel like I understood music. I felt like someone who could reproduce anything written on the page yet I couldn't create myself. This was a strange feeling given that I had been around music and composers for years and during that time, I never once even thought of becoming a composer. All of those years spent in the music school circuit preparing for auditions, concerts, and juries had kept me so busy that I totally forgot why I got into music in the first place. It was creativity and the desire to express myself...

A combination of these two issues caused me to crash and I crashed hard. I couldn't take it anymore. Something felt so wrong with my life. When the smoke cleared I found myself living in a one room apartment in Brooklyn writing music.

The Void...

During my time in Brooklyn I had no real direction but I had tons of ideas. Ideas have always been the easy part for me. I have too many so it can be hard to organize them. It's one of the reasons I have excellent organizational skills. Throughout my entire life, I've had to deal with organizing the endless stream of ideas in my head.

The NYU Marimba Ensemble Performing "The Void"

Although I had very little direction I knew enough at the time to know that if I was writing music, I would need to have some of it performed for it to be "alive" and "real." I was the director of The NYU Marimba Ensemble so I brought a sketch I was working on to rehearsal for a reading. It was some music I had come up with scored for 4 marimbas, vibes, glockenspiel, xylophone, and drums. It had a drum and bass meets rock sound to it coupled with the richness of percussive concert music. Parts of it were very catchy. The music had no name at the time but upon hearing it a student of mine named Matthew Overbay (an incredible talent and musician himself) suggested that the music sounded like "The Void." It was perfect and the sketch would later become and be entitled "The Void." 

"The Void" is about my experiences attempting to redirect my life during this time. For awhile it seemed like I would write and write and nothing would happen. I would begin an idea, develop it, and then throw it away when I thought it wasn't good enough. As I've written in other posts, I began to lovingly call this process "life reset." Things went on like this for such a long time that I started to believe I had made a mistake by attempting to write music in the first place. I began to believe that something was fundamentally wrong with me. Looking back I now know that I was in "The Void." 

If only I had known that things can change. If only had known that change happens without warning. If only I had known that sometimes getting to the truth is painful. Maybe I wouldn't have suffered so much. Maybe...but who knows.

I dedicate "The Void" to all who struggle. It's important to keep at it and be patient no matter what. The fog will clear...

Copies of The Void for Percussion Ensemble by Simon Boyar can be purchased here.

Thoughts on "Love Brings Out The Best" for Solo Marimba - Life Reset

I am not a natural player. Everything I've accomplished in music has been through hard work and sacrifice. It doesn't come easy to me. I've had to embrace music as a lifestyle sometimes when I haven't wanted to. This aspect of my relationship with music has often caused very destructive behavior. Sometimes after working on a project for weeks I will get frustrated and want to throw the whole thing away. In hindsight, there is usually nothing wrong with the project. I simply was too close to it and I lost all perspective. When I started writing music I spent years going through a pattern of never finishing projects and "starting over." I came to lovingly call this process (or anti process) "life reset."

It's important to give some background on how this happened.

I was classically trained in the art of performance. I never learned how to write music...only to interpret. I could easily transition this whole article into a discussion about my thoughts and feelings surrounding this gigantic problem in our college/conservatory education structure but I will stay on topic.

Throughout my training I always felt like something was missing. I never felt truly comfortable behind my instrument. I never felt like I was performing music. Even so, Juilliard is an amazing place and I was always kept busy. As a result I never had to fully face these feelings. It was only when I graduated and began trying to make a career in the real world that I started to feel real pressure. There was true emptiness. Something was missing. Through a series of experiments and starts and stops, I eventually started creating my own music.

It's important to keep in mind that this didn't happen in a straight line. I achieved much success early on going the traditional route. I would become busy in my career and like at Juilliard, I wouldn't always have to face things in the short term. Either way time passed and ultimately all paths would always lead me back to the familiar emptiness and I would start being creative again.

Musically, I never had any trouble coming up with ideas. Going back to this concept of "life reset," it was finishing the ideas that gave me problems. I still hadn't yet learned the most valuable lesson in art and creativity, that one's work is never finished and there is no final form. Art is merely a snapshot of a captured moment. Immediately following that moment, things have already changed. The tormented artist cliche is nothing more than a person trying catch moments and chase their own tail. Most people may not even be aware of this aspect of life but the true artist is all too aware.

As a trained performer I was truly unfamiliar with the creative process and thus the pattern of "life reset" became a routine part of my existence. I wanted nothing more than to create music and share my voice with the world but I couldn't. It seemed like no matter how hard I worked and how great my ideas were, I could never quite cross the threshold of letting go and releasing my music. I would work and work, get frustrated, melt down, and start something new. As this process played itself out again and again I found myself unable to keep up with the creative process. It was truly destroying my creativity. It was truly destroying me. As a result of this destructive cycle, over a 5 year period I developed a large body of work that had almost never been heard. The old adage "if a tree falls in the forest and nobody is around to hear it does it make a sound?" seems to apply here.

What's worse than all of this is that I had actually convinced myself that what I was doing was a good thing. That somehow, I was just improving my work and getting it to the point where it was "ready." Unfortunately, it would never be ready. I was stuck in an infinitely torturous cycle.

Around this time I met my future wife Danna Pero. She had the quote pictured by Austrian Poet Rainer Maria Rilke framed and displayed in her cottage in Croton. We still have it in our house today.  She strongly urged me to absorb the meaning.

Rainer Maria Rilke

The message would ultimately resonate with me but not without resistance on my part. I had spent so many years focusing a metaphorical magnifying glass on my work and caught in my destructive cycle that I had become convinced that working in that way was a part of who I was. I would latch on to creative ideas and not allow them to breathe. I thought that by doing that I was controlling the process. In reality I was strangling it. Any suggestion otherwise was for hippies and phony spiritual beings.

As time passed I eventually began to see the truth. My own focus was merely self hatred disguised as standard seeking. If I could learn to let things go from time to time (and love myself enough to do it) I could get some distance and perspective, come back to them fresh and finish the job...at least as much as finishing any sort of art is possible. I began working in a different way. If I became frustrated or if I couldn't finish an idea, I would relax my thoughts and let it go. The main difference here is that I would trust that the answer would reveal itself to me. I would trust the universe and live my way into the answer instead of forcing it.

This is essence of "Love Brings Out The Best." In order to trust the universe and trust that answers will come without being forced, one must learn to love themselves. Trust is nearly impossible without love. It didn't happen overnight but when I stopped holding on to things and began to trust, I was finally able to start releasing music.

Trust the universe and don't force things

"Love Brings Out The Best" is a meditation on the principles that finally allowed me to turn the corner. The slow melody at the beginning is a churning of change. The explosive ending is a full release of unshackled passion. FINALLY!!!

Copies of Love Brings Out The Best for solo marimba by Simon Boyar may be purchased here.

Thoughts on "Never Ever Knowing" for Solo Marimba

One of the most moving performances of "Never Ever Knowing" was a Veteran's Administration Breakfast sponsored by Hospice.  During this performance, I had the opportunity to perform for over 300 Veterans.  It was a true honor and a privilege.  As I was playing the thought crossed my mind that I never intended "Never Ever Knowing" to have a connection to military service but I suppose the connection is inevitable.

The artistic journey is one of introspection and self reflection.  Art mirrors life and the events that happen to us.  I composed the melody to "Never Ever Knowing" two days after my Grandpa Leo died in 2012.  He was a WWII Veteran.  Although when I was growing up he was a big part of my life, as an adult we lost touch.  This happened for a number of different reasons but by the time he passed away I felt like I really didn't know him very well.

I composed the melody for "Never Ever Knowing" two days after my Grandpa Leo died

My grandfather was a man of few words and often misunderstood.  He was a very nice and loving man but he didn't like to talk about his feelings.  I remember one of the few conversations we had during my twenties when I asked him about his service.  I specifically asked him about fighting in the Pacific.  I suppose I wanted him to give me some generic heroic account of the war.  Instead he gave me a sober history lesson (stuff I already knew from school) and preceded to avoid directly telling me about his own experience and the things he had to do.  He only told me that war is terrible and everyone had to do their duty.  At the time, it was just what people his age had to do.  I got the sense he wasn't comfortable with it but he was at peace with "being uncomfortable."  That was it.  The conversation was over.

The Greatest Generation was called upon to serve.  They didn't have a choice.  At the onset of early adulthood immediately following the great depression, many would go to war and the experiences they had would color their lives forever.   They were expected to save the world, see terrible things, and then come home and raise a family.  Many of these men were expected to carry this burden alone without any help.  They may have been welcomed home as heroes but the times were different.  Therapy and psycho social services weren't mainstream and they weren't encouraged.  Although some may have sought counseling, most felt that they were expected to get over it. Any issues and feelings they had about what they had done were buried.  The fight continued for many of these men silently for years to come.

This is who my grandfather was.  He was a man of his time who's early life and subsequent personality after was defined by his early experiences.  As a result, there were many things that he just couldn't share.  I think he carried a lot of that with him during his life and when he died he probably took a lot of that with him as well.

My grandfather was sometimes misunderstood.  It's society's issue.  We are sometimes conditioned to think that people who don't wear their feelings on their sleeve are somehow "disconnected" and "less human."  This couldn't be further from the truth.  To carry a silent burden and yet go on to raise a successful family and build a life through hardship is quite human.  Life must go on and for my grandfather it did!

There were several times I went to see my grandfather in the years before he passed away.  I saw a kind, loving and caring man.  He was simply a man of his time and like so many in his generation he just couldn't share certain things and cater to certain feelings.  I understand and respect that. As a child he gave me the love he had and I loved him. I really miss him and wish I was more present for him as an adult.

We all experience loss and it effects our interpersonal relationships. "Never Ever Knowing" is a reflection on this.  We may wish things were different and want those close to us to act in certain ways but it's not our place to judge.  People in our lives pass away.  They take with them things we'll never know.  Joys and regrets and things left unsaid.  We might wish that things would be different but such is the path of being.

"Never Ever Knowing" is a call for understanding the trials and tribulations of one's life before passing judgement.  It is a call for compassion.  

Copies of Never Ever Knowing for solo marimba by Simon Boyar may be purchased here.

Thoughts on "Reset" For Solo Marimba by Simon Boyar

As more and more music flows out of Boyar Music Studios, I feel it's important to keep a dialogue going about the meaning (and to some extent the construction) of what's already been released. This creates opportunities for performers of my music to learn more about it and it deepens their own personal experience.  It also helps to keep the music alive, interesting, and fresh.

"Reset' is a marimba solo I released back in September 2014.  It is the first published release to come out of my publishing and production company Boyar Music Studios.

What Is It?

Reset may be perceived in many ways to be a giant experiment with rock music on the marimba.   I wouldn't agree with that assessment but I would understand the sentiment.  Groove music on the marimba is often given a bad name.  This has a lot to do with the general quality of the groove music that had already been written.  With that said, I would propose the following question.  If I was able to take "simple" music and apply my background and influences to it what would it sound like?  It would sound like Reset.  The beauty of Reset isn't in it's harmonic and melodic complexity like so many other marimba masterworks.  In many ways I am simply treating the marimba like a drum set.  This is much different than "marimba groove music" which tends to rely on patterns that are uniquely idiomatic for the marimba.  Much of my influence on the marimba can be attributed to my background in drum set and Reset is no exception.

When a copy of Reset is purchased, the performer receives an "about page."  The following quotes are a few excerpts from the "about page" of Reset.  I then delve a little deeper.  

"Reset is a short work for solo marimba featuring the player's speed, stamina, and edge.  It is a work of moderate difficulty that takes the form of a high intensity sprint."

To insure a successful performance experience, there are several technical tenets the performer of "Reset" will need to master.

Speed

Reset is a fast high intensity work.  The performer must possess the ability to play fast without tension.  Without sounding repetitive I will reiterate that it is not an accident that Reset almost feels like playing drums on the marimba. Drumming is my background and sometimes (not always) when I set out to write for the marimba, it can take the form of drumming.  What the performer must take from this is that speed alone is not enough.  The performer must be able to play fast in a relaxed way with an established groove.

Stamina

Stamina is the ability to play for extended periods of time without a break.

Although short, "Reset" contains few breaks.  If the player finds themselves clenching and hurting to finish Reset, stamina is an issue.  My suggestion to improve stamina is based on a method shown to me many years ago by Joe Morello.

First you will pick a comfortable tempo that you are able to play the whole piece from start to finish without missing notes and especially without pain or feeling tension of any sort.  It may be embarrassingly slow and that's totally ok.  Once this tempo is established, run-through the work several times.  Focus on your breathing, posture, and relaxing the pressure in your hands.  You will run-through the work until you feel 100% confident that you can comfortably make it through without missing.  Every phrase and technique must be absolutely comfortable and relaxed.  This is a literal statement!

Once you have achieved this you will repeat the process the following day only with one minor change.  You will increase the original tempo by ONLY 1 metronome marking per minute.  You will then go through the process all over again.  At this slow but steady pace, you should clear about 5 bpm per week.

This is an extremely slow and deliberate process but over time, you will see real progress.  Your ability to play for long periods of time at a fast tempo without feeling tension or pain will be alleviated.

Edge

There's a place where it's possible to play right on the sonic edge of harshness without crossing the line.  My suggestion for Reset is to find this place.  The marimba's keys are made of living breathing rosewood.  It's malleable but not infinitely malleable.  You must discover it's breaking point and play on  that edge.  I've spent a lot of time as a player developing this ability.

"Reset is a metaphor for wiping the slate clean in the pursuit of excellence.  Though well intentioned it has the potential to become a truly destructive force of nature.  Music is a living organism in a constant state of change and flux.  One must accept that there is not and will never be a "final form."

There is nothing wrong with the pursuit of excellence.  Most successful performers will strive to be the best they can be.  However, when it becomes something that ultimately prevents one's work from coming to fruition it must be kept in check.  There is no final form in music.  Seeking one is a dangerous game (at least it was for me).  I don't want to sound too definitive here but for personal reasons I felt like I had to write about this common creative experience.  It's this very self destructive thing that prevented me from releasing my music for way too long!

With that said, for better or worse "Reset" is my creation.  It teeters on the brink of being just close enough to self destruction.  When I was first writing and performing Reset I would often feel like it would go so fast and there would be so much energy put out that it would just derail.  I feel this is an appropriate analogy to my true creative process.  I am often always just on the cusp of crossing the line and exhausting myself.  Learning to balance this aspect of my personality has always been the crux of my journey in the creative arts.  In many ways my company Boyar Music Studios represents my ability to find an inner balance and finally "produce" my work.

Copies of Reset for solo marimba by Simon Boyar may be purchased here.