"There are no two points so distant from one another that they cannot be connected by a single straight line -- and an infinite number of curves."
Composer Lawrence Dillon has produced an extensive body of work, from brief solo pieces to a full-length opera. Three disks of his music are due out in 2010 on the Bridge, Albany and Naxos labels. In the past year, he has had commissions from the Emerson String Quartet, the Cassatt String Quartet, the Mansfield Symphony, the Boise Philharmonic, the Salt Lake City Symphony, the Ravinia Festival, the Daedalus String Quartet, the Kenan Institute for the Arts, the University of Utah and the Idyllwild Symphony Orchestra.
Although he lost 50% of his hearing in a childhood illness, Dillon began composing as soon as he started piano lessons at the age of seven. In 1985, he became the youngest composer to earn a doctorate at The Juilliard School, and was shortly thereafter appointed to the Juilliard faculty. Dillon is now Composer in Residence at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, where he has served as Music Director of the Contemporary Ensemble, Assistant Dean of Performance, and Interim Dean of the School of Music. He was the Featured American Composer in the February 2006 issue of Chamber Music magazine.
Over the years, I’ve come to understand and accept that different composers have very different objectives and inspirations for their music. And indeed, why would we wish for a world in which all composers were after the same results? Isn’t it better to have the tens of thousands of composers in the world reflecting the variety and diversity of tens of thousands of cultures?
So I’ve never gotten riled up when I hear of a composer taking a stance that is antithetical to mine. In fact, I welcome the counterpoint in perspective – with a little effort, I can always understand where another composer is coming from.
That is, until recently. I’ve finally discovered a piece of music that has me stupefied. I’ve finally encountered a composer whose purpose is more obscure than I can grasp.
And to think this piece was introduced to me by my two-year-old.
Okay, I can maybe believe that a farmer would name his dog Bingo. I’m not sure why, but it doesn’t seem completely out of the realm of possibility.
But why on earth would anybody feel so inspired by that name as to write a song about how it’s spelled?
