From Darkness We Awaken (for violin, violoncello, alto saxophone, prepared piano, vibraphone, and percussion)

Commissioned by Virago

For violin, violoncello, alto saxophone, prepared piano, vibraphone, and percussion

Score and Recordings will be available late 2021/early 2022.

I composed From Darkness We Awaken in the middle of what has proved to be the most chaotic period of time that I've ever lived through. As I write these words we are in the midst of a global pandemic that has killed millions, a fascist is attempting to consolidate power in the United States, mass protests are erupting across the country to affirm that Black Lives Matter, and a mounting climate crisis is threatening to destroy us all.

Against the backdrop of these intersecting crises, another personal upheaval occurred for me: in March 2020, my wife and I found out we were expecting our first child. Now, in October, we're less than two months away from our baby's arrival.

Of course, we couldn't be more excited. But while 2020 continues down its intensely toxic path, in our house it's been eerily quiet. We've essentially been in quarantine since March, rarely venturing out, terrified of what a Covid-19 infection could do for our growing baby. We've thrown our pent up energy into preparing our home, our hearts, and our lives for the arrival of a new human. It's a strange juxtaposition, to be simultaneously balancing so much joy with so much fear.

The one thing that has kept me relatively grounded in this unique moment has been writing this piece. I've worked quicker than usual, immersed myself in it, and put my whole self into it. As I progressed deeper into the piece, I observed it taking on more and more of a central role in my well being. I started to notice myself using this piece as a forum for processing these transformative changes. From Darkness We Awaken became a proxy for my emotional preparations for the next phase of my life — a diary documenting my personal metamorphosis. It became an avatar for an awakening of sorts: for myself, for our future baby, and hopefully for our society.

From Darkness We Awaken works to bring together several concerns that have been central to my creative practice for years — namely, the tension between composed and improvised music, and a desire to blur the lines between these two dispositions. This piece started as a series of vignettes for solo prepared piano that were structured improvisations. When I decided to transition it into a chamber piece, one of the chief concerns was to retain the open, improvisational quality of the original while utilizing the wider coloristic palate made available by the introduction of new instruments.

I'm grateful to BethAnne Kunert, Sofia Carbonara, Wesley Hornpetrie, and Meghan Rohrer of Virago for commissioning this work. Their collaborative and open attitude has given me permission to completely be myself, without a second thought.

Two Devotions — in memoriam Mary Oliver II: We Shake With Joy (for baritone saxophone and piano)

Published as part of the Dualisms collection (below.) We Shake With Joy starts on page 14.
Recording available here. Purchase the score here, or the whole collection here.

Two Devotions — in memoriam Mary Oliver
For baritone saxophone and piano
Video features Kaleigh Wilder (baritone saxophone) and Michael Malis (piano)

Premiered at Strange Beautiful Music XII, September 2019.

We shake with joy
We shake with grief
What a time these two have, housed as they are in the same body

-Mary Oliver

When I read this beautiful poem in the summer of 2019, it immediately arrested my attention. I was drawn to its inherent contradiction — the idea that we can be simultaneously full of joy and full of grief. Furthermore, the poem seems to assert that that contradiction is not only possible, but necessary: that living this contradiction is an integral component of the human experience. With Two Devotions, I sought to write a piece that captured these two opposing dispositions.

Movement 2, We Shake With Joy, is an exuberant and joyful dance. Employing techniques such as hand claps and other percussive effects, both players are almost constantly playing as the music becomes increasingly ecstatic. The result is a trance-like groove that persists onward throughout the entire piece, morphing subtly as the tonality shifts incrementally. My hope was to capture a feeling of a cup overflowing; of abundance; of pure and real joy.

Two Devotions — in memoriam Mary Oliver I: We Shake With Grief (for baritone saxophone and piano)

Published as part of the Dualisms collection (below.) We Shake With Grief starts on page 11.
Recording available here. Purchase the score here, or the whole collection here.

Two Devotions — in memoriam Mary Oliver
For baritone saxophone and piano
Video features Kaleigh Wilder (baritone saxophone) and Michael Malis (piano)

Premiered at Strange Beautiful Music XII, September 2019.

We shake with joy
We shake with grief
What a time these two have, housed as they are in the same body

-Mary Oliver

\When I read this beautiful poem in the summer of 2019, it immediately arrested my attention. I was drawn to its inherent contradiction — the idea that we can be simultaneously full of joy and full of grief. Furthermore, the poem seems to assert that that contradiction is not only possible, but necessary: that living this contradiction is an integral component of the human experience. With Two Devotions, I sought to write a piece that captured these two opposing dispositions.

Movement I, We Shake With Grief, is slow, somber, and aching. It features the piano and baritone saxophone in duet, with the pianist alternating between playing the keys of the piano and plucking the strings of the piano. This section culminates in a pizzicato improvisation from the pianist while the saxophonist repeats a simple figure.

The pianist then places a chain, bells, and other metallic objects on the low strings of the piano. My goal with this section was to capture the inarticulate wail that often feels like the summation of grief. Grief is messy. Grief isn’t rational. Grief can be all-consuming. In this sense, this section was intended to be unformed, misshapen, and full of anxiety. The piece ends with the pianist whistling into the soundboard of the piano; a question without any answers.

A Little To The Side (for alto saxophone, piano, and drum set)

Purchase the score here, and the score and parts here.

Commissioned by ThreeForm. Premiered on January 21, 2020 at North Carolina School of the Arts.

"There’s a real advantage in deeply investigating and becoming skilled at something and then realizing your real interests are a little to the side of that."

- Kate Soper

Over the last few years, I -- like so many others I know -- have made some significant shifts in my creative practice. As I grow older, I've occasionally entertained the self effacing thought that perhaps these shifts betray some sort of character flaw; a flakiness or inability to stay grounded in one creative process. So when I read the above quote from composer Kate Soper in Sound American Magazine, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt like she was speaking to what I've sometimes perceived as my isolation; to my unease about not being squarely situated in one creative practice or another. And much to my surprise, when I shared this quote on Instagram, I found myself flooded with responses from friends, all of whom also felt a deep resonance with this sentiment.

As much as I try to be in complete control of my life, I find that there's always something imprecise about the end result. I need to remind myself that this imprecision is actually something worth celebrating, not deriding. Plans and designs can go out the window as life takes on its own form.

That was the case with A Little To The Side: I started this piece with a very limited set of musical materials, with the intention of carrying those materials throughout the piece. By and large, that happened -- but there are plenty of moments where the music veers off into unscripted territory, taking on a life of its own. In my music, I'm always wrestling with the tension between what should be pre-meditated and what should be left up to inspiration. (This, incidentally, is not too far from the tension between what must be composed and what must be improvised.) A Little To The Side has a little bit of it all.

Ultimately, the experiment of A Little To The Side was, can I write something that sounds like jazz but requires the approach of chamber music? It's a question that obsesses me, and represents something fundamental to who I am as a musician. I'm grateful for the opportunity to explore this creative terrain, and I'm grateful to ThreeForm for asking me to explore with them.

And I'm holding Kate Soper's quote as an affirmation to myself; that it's not only permissible, but actually adventageous to chase my creativity down whatever foxhole it wants to lead me. The path will be longer, but the journey will be mine alone.

Five Stations (for piano, tenor saxophone, and string quartet)

Purchase the score here, and the score and parts here.

For Piano, Tenor Saxophone, and String Quartet

Premiered by Balance, May 31 2019
presented by Detroit Chamber Winds and Strings
Michael Malis — piano
Marcus Elliot — tenor saxophone
Kimberly Kennedy — Violin
Jiamin Wang — Violin
James VanValkenburg — Viola
Jeremy Crosmer — Cello

Program Notes:

Recently in my life, I've made a series of very intense transitions in a relatively short period of time. As my habits have changed, so have my priorities. And as I continue to grow as a person, I realize that this process of constantly being in flux is nothing to be scared of; rather, the act of perpetually inventing and reinventing oneself is something to bravely welcome with open arms.

Upon refection, I've realized that the rhythm of these transitions is such that one extended period of time that feels whole, full, and universal cedes to another extended period of time that feels altogether different but no less whole, full, or universal. I've begun to think of these contrasting extended periods as "stations" -- resting points, places of reprieve, and the defining textures of my daily life. I've sought to transliterate this idea to a musical process in this composition.

This piece consists of five distinct "stations" -- extended sections have their own defining life-forces independent of each other. These stations share certain characteristics in terms of materials -- pitch sets, interval structures, and rhythmic orientations -- but much of that similarity is buried beneath the surface. These five stations are meant to contrast with each other, showcasing extended musical ideas that should feel whole and full in their own right.

I hope this piece inspires performers and audiences to reflect on the stations that their own lives have traversed through, as well as the stations of life yet to come.

-Michael Malis, May Day 2019