Jay C. Batzner is currently an Assistant Professor at the University of Central Florida where he teaches theory, composition, and technology courses as well as coordinates the composition program. He holds degrees in composition and/or theory from the University of Missouri – Kansas City, the University of Louisville, and the University of Kansas.
Jay's music is primarily focused around instrumental chamber works as well as electroacoustic composition. His music has been recorded on the Capstone, Vox Novus, and Beauport Classical labels and is published by Unsafe Bull Music.
Jay is a sci-fi geek, an amateur banjoist, a home brewer, and juggler.
My summer course is music tech for the music educator. We are plowing through material at an unhealthy rate and today we discussed podcasting. They wanted to know about it, so I did one in front of them. The music I had composed before, of course.
Okay, here is a brief follow up to the "Defining Moments" musical moment. For the International Young Composers Meeting each of us had to write a piece for the house orchestra, an interesting mix of winds with a rhythm section, and up to 5 voices. I decided to write for all voices because, well, why not. The piece was supposed to be 3 minutes long. I scored it for: alto flute, bass flute, bass clarinet, soprano and bari saxes, trumpet, horn, 2 trombones, tuba, piano, electric guitar, electric bass, 1 percussion (vibraphone and bass drum), SSATB.
I used a wonderful translation of some Sanskrit love poetry: When he comes back to my arms I'll make him feel what nobody ever felt. Everywhere me disappearing into him like water into the clay of a new jar.
Something like that, anyhow. Here is the recording I have: Disappearing.mp3
After the concert, the judges all retired to announce a winner. It took quite a while. Supposedly, according to one of the judges, 2 of the 5 were strongly supporting my piece. I know that at least one person was militantly against it because he told me my piece had major structural flaws. According to this judge, my piece starts so beautifully and fluid but ended with lots of sustained notes and doublings. Like water into the clay of a new jar, I thought. Almost as if I knew what I was doing. This is one of the first times I really took a "master composer's" criticism and completely dismissed it because HE missed the point and not because my music was at fault. It was a nice moment. I've done it since then and I enjoyed it there, too.
I like the piece that won and I think they made a good selection. There were lots of good pieces to choose from and I knew I didn't have a chance in hell of getting anything. Other than taking 2nd in a two-composer contest, this is as close to winning as I've ever come. I'm just happy that my piece was problematic and strongly supported by a vocal minority. It felt good to have a judge pull me aside and say "keep fighting the good fight." It didn't make my c.v. any better, but it did give me a great story.
posted by Jay C. Batzner
6/21/2007
Defining Moments
Not that it has anything to do with anything, but there is a new podcast episode up today.
My wife and I were talking the other night and she asked me if I had any "defining moments." I thought for a second and I came up with two. These aren't the kind of "defining moments" that culture tells you are supposed to define you (wedding day, birth of our daughter, getting my doctorate, etc.). I have one non-musical and one musical:
Non-musical: On my 18th birthday, I was a foreign exchange student in Germany. My host family sat me down and told me, at length, what a horrible human being I am. They did it again just before I left. That was about 15 years ago and, despite other people's assurances that what they said isn't true, I still believe them. I'm more inclined to believe the negative things about me than accept something positive. Any praise is highly suspect and I can usually explain away. The negative things about me are the things that I take as being my true self.
Musical: In 2004, I was a part of the International Young Composers' Meeting in Apeldoorn, Netherlands. It was a wonderful experience. I met a lot of great composers and felt really good about who I was and what I was doing. Each of us had to write a piece for the "house orchestra" of 10 winds, rhythm section (piano, guitar, bass, 1 percussionist), and up to 5 voices (SSATB). The piece couldn't be longer than 3 minutes. We had two rehearsals of our piece and then, on the final night, there was a concert of all the pieces (from about 15 composers). One composer was selected to get a commission for the ensemble for the next year, another composer was selected to get another commission for a smaller piece.
Of course, I didn't get the commission. That was not the defining moment.
The defining moment came the first time I heard my piece. I got such a rush from hearing my music for the first time that I realized that THAT MOMENT was why I am a composer. Before the audience comes in, before I become overly critical and only hear a work's flaws, that initial hearing with the ensemble is when I love my music.
I'll try to dig up the recording of that piece. There is a longer story about the final concert, but you really aren't that interested.
posted by Jay C. Batzner
A very unusual one, at that.
posted by Jay C. Batzner
6/11/2007
Percolating
I write quickly. I don't spend hours each day slaving over details and nuance. Everything comes out of me in a rush. It is, if you excuse the phrase, rather orgasmic. And I have tremendous difficulty revising. Fixing an error here or there is no big deal. Reworking an entire section, though, is next to impossible. I'd rather write a new piece. I'm no longer the person I was when I wrote the first piece and it is hard to get back into my own head and into the moment that created it.
Since I write quickly, I don't write constantly. I go through long stretches without writing but my brain is always drumming up the next piece. Then, at some point, comes the moment of no return: I have to write the piece or lose it. I've lost a couple in my life and I'm really sad about that. I don't want to lose many more.
The interesting thing about my podcasting is that I have to make something even if I don't want to. I didn't really want to make something last week and ended up, quite accidentally, making one of my favorites to date. It is good for me to do this. It also arms me with techniques that I can bring out so I don't lose another piece.
The other day, my daughter was sitting at the piano. She would play a few notes (major seconds), stop, pick up the pencil, and scribble on the magazine sitting on the music stand. Then she'd repeat the process. And again. And again. I asked her what she was doing "Writing music." was her response. The funny thing is, I don't write at the piano. She probably hasn't seen me do that in about a year (she turned 2 in April).
We also taught her her first joke today: What is brown and sticky?
