I've often felt like a species of tree that takes forever to grow beyond some gangly, skinny, stork like branch out of the ground. But then, after decades and decades, turns out to be this formidable oak, or something like that. Is there any such tree. Can somebody please let me know?
Because that's been the story of my own life as a composer. There have been moments when a flash of inspiration, or motivation, or both? would move me and after 50 years of working as a musician, teacher, and director, I had a small, modest body of work to show for it.
My mother, God bless her, (truly! She nurtured that childlike wonder in me. Whatever's there is from her.) I always knew, without exception, that any musical accomplishment I had achieved, would be met with the penetrating question, "Did you perform your OWN music?"
My blood pressure would spike about, muscles tighten, and I would half sigh and half bark at the same time, any one of ten variations of "No, mom," followed by some expression of frustration.
Only four years after she was gone from Alzheimer's, Karen and I felt a "call" to relocate up to Vermont. And guess what happened. The floodgates opened, and I began creating an ongoing body of work, in addition to "midwiving" the work of my school children, as well as ALT.
I hope she knows in heaven that she was right. "My son, the composer" was destined to be part of the mix. She was just impatient. "Hey mom. It happened. And more than you thought. Plays. Songs. Words. Music. All of it. And all part of this bigger thing. American Logres Theatre."
I wish I could tell her.
I'd like to share with you two stories that felt like a "baptism" into that part of that "calling" mom would never let me forget.
The first one's funny. The second one's not. But they're both crucial.
Catalyst #1- In the summer of 2005 I enrolled in a music technology institute where I would be taught how to use the Sibelius software program, so that I might compose. As a deadline countdown for posting a new piece on my website drew near, I hadn’t even begun! I was still trying to learn the program. “Well, Leslie. You’ve GOT to do it! Posting must be complete before lunch break. Go!”
Well, all right! I desperately squeezed out what turned out to feel.....pretty good. "Inspirational flow” seemed to come, and within minutes the concept of a song cycle on the numbers 1 to 12 not only flashed in my mind, but the first song quickly unfolded, words, music, accompaniment. Voila!
Time to post. Made it! Just in time. Whew! During the last two days of the institute, the two and three number songs came together. It felt good. Real good.
Then a couple of days later, I woke up with this truly bizarre accompaniment motif “sequencing” through my mind. I rushed to get manuscript paper and a pencil, wrote it out precisely, then received another flash. Lyrics emerged: the number would be 13; Halloween would be the theme. The lyrics flowed out. The vocal melody followed. Within a half hour the song was complete. Gee! It sure did feel good. Real good.
Catalyst #2- 5 weeks later I was back in school, excited about picking up with four 5th grade students on a Mayflower Pilgrim musical theater project I had begun with them just before the summer break. I was soooo... excited about bringing them into that "creative zone." And where was their enthusiasm?.. GONE. “Mr. Klami, do we have to do this?” "We're too busy." "None of us want to do it." Gads, I felt pretty hurt. I don't mean disappointed. I mean "smartin'."
Now what was I going to do? Abort the whole project? Just let it die? A surge of something, determination, anyone ever heard of "moxie"? A "vision" arose in me, blazing forth with, “Abort? No! Develop the project, Do it yourself. The whole project. The story. The play script. The song lyrics. The music. The whole darn thing! YOU do it.” My response, '(gulp) Well, yeah, ok.... I will.”
And so for the next several days the Pilgrims and their plight with mocking and faith crushing persecution became real as my own emotions added wood to the fire of what would fuel the unveiling, daily, of new play scenes, new lyrics, new music. A new style, not copied from anyone else, (I'm not a musical theater person. Broadway has never been my cup of tea.) Yet this was some kind of musical theater. Hey! Original. And so it wsa.
During that September to December in '04 , Three musical plays were birthed. One after the other. And it's all still flowing. See what can come out of pressure, rejection, anxiety, and a broken heart?
Yours. Leslie
Next: The nature of “Inspiration” (The “mysterious power” behind all creativity)
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2 comments:
MR. KLAMI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm so excited that I finally found you somewhere on this massive thing called the Internet... Well, do u remember PS 127? I used to be a student from 1997-2003? Although this isn't practically safe, my name is Konstantinos Constantellis... people used to call me Gus... I was the kid that used to do the Harry Potter skits... I hope you remember me... anyway... I hope you reply soon even though it's probably highly unlikely.
Hey Mr. Klami, its Salma Abdou! I was also a student at P.S. 127 in Brooklyn! I don't know if you'll remember me. I was soo happy when Gus told me he finally found you on the internet! =) You were an incredible music teacher and such an inspiring role model!
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