Jacob David Sudol(b. Des Moines, Iowa 1980) writes intimate compositions that explore enigmatic phenomena and the inner nature of how we perceive sound. He recently finished his M.Mus. at McGill University and currently resides in La Jolla, CA where he is working towards a Ph.D. in composition at the University of California at San Diego with Roger Reynolds, Chinary Ung, Philippe Manoury, and Rand Steiger.
Over the last five years some of Jacob's mentors in composition have included John Rea, Denys Bouliane, Philippe Leroux, Sean Ferguson, Dan Asia, and Craig Walsh. He has also participated in master classes with Danish composer Bent Sørensen and German composer Manfred Stahnke.
During 2005-2006, Jacob was the first-ever composer-in-residence for the McGill Contemporary Music Ensemble under the direction of Denys Bouliane, in collaboration with the McGill Digital Composition Studio. He has also written music for the Nouvel Ensemble Moderne, the Contemporary Keyboard Society, percussionist Fernando Rocha, saxophonist Elizabeth Bunt, and clarinetist Krista Martynes. As an undergraduate at the University of Arizona, he composed the music for a collaborative dance project with choreographer Hillary Peterson, and he was the principal composer and pianist for El Proyecto de Santa Barbara, a chamber Latin jazz ensemble.
During the 2005 and 2007 Montréal/Nouvelles Musiques and 2006 MusiMars festivals Jacob was an electronic assistant for performances with Court-Circuit, Matt Haimovitz, Sara Laimon, Martin Matalon, Moritz Eggert, Manfred Stahnke, the Caput Ensemble, and the McGill Contemporary Music Ensemble. These concerts were broadcast by the CBC and the European Broadcasting Union in over fifty countries throughout the world. He is currently a studio research assistant for Pulitzer Prize-winning composer Roger Reynolds.
During his free time Jacob takes an active interest in religious phenomenology, cinema, acoustics, literature, poetry, and visual art. As a composer and performer, he always attempts to bring insights from these other fields into his work.
Disclaimer:
All music posted on this blog is posted out of love and the idea that for the truly great music of our time(s) to be known it must first and foremost be heard. If you like what you hear please support the artist by buying the recordings, scores, and/or encouraging the performances of the music in every way possible.
If you are the composer, performer, performing organization, artist or directly represent the composer, performer, performing organization, or artist of anything posted on this website and would like your material removed please contact me and I will happily oblige.
Over the years I’ve read and talked to a lot people who say that certain songs and music have an almost geographical or photographic representation of a time and place. I feel this is something that is hard to formulate because it is primarily personal; however, I think that when one makes this personal connection these representations become completely undeniable.
Since coming to Montréal a number of bands and compositions have helped me understand and come to terms with what it means and feels like to live on this strange French Canadian island. However now that I’ve spent the last three years getting used to Montréal I have to prepare myself to move to San Diego and return to the American southwest in September. To help myself with this move I’ve been seeking out and listening to some particularly southwestern artists and songs.
Primarily based in L.A. (which is a mere 90 minutes north of San Diego) I’ve always felt that Warren Zevon writes songs that feel baked to exhaustion in the overly clear and optimistic skies of southern California. What I particularly like about Warren Zevon is that, unlike some other well-known L.A. musicians, he writes songs that a have a very distinct human and tragically dark and/or violent edge to them. To me it’s what you see when you get past a romantic conception that you’re living in an exotic desert paradise – it’s the true wild and often unforgiving natural harshness of a hot and dry terrain.
Calexico is band from Tucson, Arizona (where I spent most of my life) that writes music that frequently sounds like it belongs in the soundtrack to a movie about some of my old friends who would live from paycheck to paycheck or gig to gig in this heart of Sonoran desert. Listening to Calexico I can almost feel the hot wind reflecting off of downtown’s pavement in the middle of a dry desolate summer day or hear the sudden lightning that ushers in the harsh wind and rain of a sudden July monsoon shower.
Listening to these albums and songs I’m starting to get excited about returning to a land more familiar. In a few days I’ll post some songs that have helped me come to grips with Montréal and are already beginning to make me nostalgic
