Friday, February 04, 2005
Finding a voice

I'd like to follow up a bit on the discussion from the previous post. The issue that emerged from the comments was one of catering to an audience versus playing (or composing) the music that one believes in. What's really at the heart of the matter here is finding and defining a personal voice.

I think this is what we're all searching for. However, when does one start developing a distinctive and unique voice? From the beginning? Only after years and years of study and attempting to re-create other voices? Is it important to "pay your dues" before arriving at a personal sound? Can one be born with it? Is it something that can be developed at all?

I believe that finding a voice is an organic process. You are the sum of your influences. And the way you channel and synthesize all of your experiences and knowledge defines your own unique voice. At least this is how I feel I arrived at my current state. As I learned to play the saxophone, I was often taken by this artist or that artist and tried to emulate their personal style. I found things in each artists' playing--the way they turned a phrase, their tone, articulation, control of dynamics or timbre--that I attempted to appropriate into my own playing. When I play now, I don't think about how so-and-so would do something, I think about how I want to do it. But if I hadn't gone through that process of discovery as a student, I don't think I could make those kinds of decisions now. The bigger issue for me at this point is not so much how I play, but rather what I play. Choosing what to perform helps define my voice as much as how I perform it.

That being said, I don't ever compromise my values for an audience. I believe that a high level of artistic integrity goes hand in hand with great musicianship and conviction as a performer (or composer for that matter). Now certainly, I want to perform for people and would never give up an opportunity to do so. Sometimes that means I play at a local Women's Club or elderhostel or retirement community. In those cases, I might modify my program a little--perhaps taking a bit of an edge off--but in every instance I always bring music that I believe in and wish to communicate to them, no matter how challenging it might be. I've found that conviction and passion about a certain music--things I'm able to project in performance--usually trump preconceived notions about what people think they like or don't like. Who knew that little old ladies could like Michael Gordon, William Bolcom, or Karlheinz Stockhausen?
posted by Brian Sacawa 3:44 PM

Wednesday, February 02, 2005
It's your choice

Shouldn't we play music that people want to hear?

A colleague I respect very highly asked me that question recently. And I'm pretty sure why he asked. He knows that I collaborate frequently with emerging composers and that the resulting work sometimes exists outside of certain listeners' comfort zones--his included. Like Ms. Gould from a previous post, he simply has a more conservative sonic pallate. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that and I happen to find his Mozart mezmerizing and his Bach exquisite. But I think deep down what he really meant was, "Why would you let anyone write you a piece of music that sounds like that?"

Implicit in that question is the idea that the performer can exercise a certain amount of control over the collaborating composer. Can I do that? Maybe. Should I do it? No.

The truth is, I never tell a composer what to write. Why would I? I’ve chosen to work with that particular composer because I believe in his or her voice, not because I have an agenda on my instrument. However, if the composer were to ask me if I was looking to explore anything specific or if I had any ideas, I'd be happy to share them. It's just not my place to impose those issues from the beginning. To be sure, there have been a few times I was sorry I didn't lay down some parameters with regard to range, extended techniques, or the eight levels of pianissimo. But even in those instances I'm up for a challenge, even if I'm certain of the outcome.

The bottom line: You can choose who you work with. You can't tell them what to do.
posted by Brian Sacawa 2:32 AM

Monday, January 31, 2005
Holding my breath

Anybody that dismisses Philip Glass' music has probably never tried to play one of his pieces.

I say this not as a reaction to David's review of the Anechoic Chamber Ensemble's concert of early Glass works last night--which certainly isn't dismissive--but rather in response to my own preparation of Mr. Glass' Piece in the Shape of a Square (1968), the first half closer on my February 16th Miller Theater recital.

Originally scored for two flutes, I decided to make a version for alto saxophone after being taken by a performance of the work on an album by Alter Ego. In concert I play the second part against a recording of myself performing the first part.

The work presents two major challenges to me as a performer. First, minimalist music takes an extremely high--almost superhuman--level of concertration. If my mind wanders for a split second, I risk loosing my place and being thrown off rhythm. Second, and more important to my health, is figuring out where to breathe. The music simply doesn't stop to allow me to do this. I've already struggled through two performances of the piece on the brink of asphyxiation by the end. Circular breathing, a possible solution in situations where taking a normal breath is impossible, is not an option in this piece. The constant syncopations and articulations leave no room for the technique.

So why torture myself? Well, it's not really torture. The piece is exciting and deserves to be heard. And the work's inherent difficulties only add to its excitement in performance.
posted by Brian Sacawa 9:45 AM


Praised by The New York Times as "an inventive musician . . . fresh and surprising," saxophonist Brian Sacawa has firmly established himself as an important contemporary voice for his instrument. He is active as a soloist, recitalist, and chamber musician throughout the United States and is the co-founder of the new music duo Non-Zero with percussionist Timothy Feeney.

He has given premieres of over thirty works by both established and emerging composers, including Michael Gordon, Bright Sheng, Andrew Mead, Oliver Schneller, Ken Ueno, Beata Moon, Hillary Zipper, and Scott McAllister, among many others. Named the Baltimore CITYPAPER’s Critic’s Choice for Classical Music in 2002, he is the recipient of awards for solo performance from both national and international competitions.

Sacawa's versatile career has led to appearances with the St. Petersburg Philharmonic, the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, the New World Symphony, Harvard Group for New Music, New Music Brandeis, Bargemusic, and at meetings of the ISU Contemporary Music Festival, World Saxophone Congress, North American Saxophone Alliance, and New England Saxophone Symposium.

Brian holds degrees from the University of Michigan, the Peabody Conservatory, and the University of Massachusetts – Amherst, where he studied with Donald Sinta, Gary Louie, and Lynn Klock. He has recorded for the Equililbrium, Naxos, and BiBimBop recording labels.

See Brian's other blog
Sounds Like Now