I have a tendency to overthink (and consequently, overdo) anything that I can get my hands on. The emails I write look more like a YA novel than a quick correspondence. The bags I pack for overnight trips and vacations end up stuffed to their limit (with an extra drawstring bag or two full of extra things for good measure). The sentences I write end up littered with parentheses and excess commas (for vaguely funny comments, clarification, you get the joke at this point).
With that in mind, can you blame me for being a sucker for mixed meter? Syncopation? Oddly specific rhythms? It's all complicated! The good kind of complicated, the one that makes your ears perk up in intrigue and makes your brain work overtime to analyze whatever fancy sounds you're listening to! You know exactly what I'm talking about (hopefully), because you probably love it too. There exists a faction, however, of non-believers. Dissenters who despise (or slightly dislike) the concept of complexity in choral music. That faction is the natural predator of the choral composer — the choir.
Of course, I'm exaggerating. We share a symbiotic relationship with our choral companions: without the choral composer, there are no pieces for a choir to perform. Without a choir, we write for the weird little MIDI "Voice" Soundfont on our notation software of choice. Not to mention, I'm almost positive that every half-decent choral composer is a current (or former) member of at least one choral group. In that way, we are one and the same. But there will always be that disconnect between the two factions — a large group of singers (dare I say, a community) usually doesn't connect well with the composers of the pieces they're performing. What are we but a name on their new packet of notes? Maybe, if we're getting fancy, we've got a grainy black and white picture and a short bio on the back, but how much of a composer can that really hold?
Thanks to that disconnect, discontent can fester easily in a choir. Difficulties with rhythms, pitches, maybe they notice some odd or suboptimal voicing choices here and there. The worst part? It's all completely valid criticism. Somebody, get me away from it all! It's terrifying!! Well, breathe! Of anyone in the world to critique your work, the choir is probably the most important voice to listen to. After all, they're the ones putting your notes to work. They spend hours, days, weeks, months worth of rehearsals eyeing every measure of your piece from front to back.
Obviously, you can't please everyone. Every singer has their own tastes, and some struggle in areas where others don't.
But in order to write a strong choral piece, eliminating any problems that would affect a large portion of the choir has to be a priority. That is where the true enemy of the choral composer steps in — ourselves. Or rather, our minds. Maybe our ego? You get what I mean.
Since I know myself better than I know you, the reader, I'll switch to explaining my own thought process in a compositional context. When I'm composing, I have a certain way I hear things in my head — I try my best to notate it appropriately. This isn't in the dramatized Mozart-esque manner, where I hear ~the whole piece~ and immediately transcribe it note for note, of course. I hear a general idea of what I want in the section I'm working on, and then I write it down and figure out specifics (to the best of my ability) in a way that is possible for the choir to perform. Keyword: possible. That's where my main issue lies as a composer. The difference between "possible" and "simple/feasible" may as well be an ocean's length apart.
Can the entire Bass 2 section hit a bunch of clean E2's consecutively, at the very beginning of the piece, for the entire first page? It's possible! Can the Alto 1s use JUST that E2 to immediately come in on a Bb3, and be in tune? It's possible! Can I show that page to a choir and leave the rehearsal room with my life? …It's possible!
But! It's not quite feasible.
That irks me. You're telling me that I have this ~amazing vision~ of a piece in my head, and now I have to... change it? Why, because the choir is having trouble with it? Isn't it, like, their job to fix it or whatever? Bunch of slackers that bunch is, huh? Pick up a textbook, take a Theory class! Make a Google search for a little website called SightReadingFactory! Buy a pitch pipe! Back in my day, yada yada yada...
Guess what, overdramatized version of me? For one thing, you aren't even 20 years old yet, so "back in your day", you were playing Pokémon Black2 on your DS and your social life was already on the decline. More importantly, guess whose job it is to make a choir piece that's not a huge pain to perform? Newsflash! It's you!
It may be annoying to have to rethink your initial ideas, but there will almost always be a viable simplification that will scratch the itch that those ideas created in your head.
Of course, I'm absolutely not great at this skill. I tend to overestimate the typical choir, and I tend to be too stubborn to make the occasional obvious change. As I previously established, I also tend to overcomplicate things, leading to very interesting pieces that would need a heavy focus in rehearsals to ensure a good-quality final product. This is a vice I'm working on correcting. It's like walking a tightrope between complexity and over-simplification. There's a sweet spot there, and I just can't seem to hit it.
Coming to terms with the idea of simplification is an important battle to wage. Growing past my ego and stubbornness is another. One of the reasons I am composing is, in the simplest terms, I enjoy having my pieces performed. I would assume that goes for all of you as well. A sane choir director isn't going to pick a piece out of a catalogue if they don't believe their ensemble can handle it. Some pieces may be seen as good challenges, but if those got any more complicated/difficult, they'd likely be a no-go. We're aiming for the "good challenge" line, not "the reason for the director to bring a personal bottle of ibuprofen to rehearsals". With enough time, experience, and constant consideration of the choir and their needs, that line should hopefully get easier and easier to hit.
Hopefully, you'll relate to my struggles regarding this topic. Part of the reason I wrote this was to analyze my own difficulties with simplification. Maybe you'll relate to it, maybe you won't! Regardless, I still feel like it's an important subject to keep in mind as a composer.
Thank you very much for reading. Keep it cool, all!
*Opinions expressed on The CCCC Blog are reflections of the individual author, and may not represent all members of The CCCC Community.
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