Spring 2019 Part 2: Dividual

Written by Paul Manganello
Music Composed by Michael Malis
Conceived by Paul Manganello and Michael Malis

Of all the artistic collaborators I’ve been lucky to work with in my life, Paul is probably the one with whom I have the longest relationship. Paul, along with his brother Jim, and I, all went to middle and high school together. In fact, I was on stage with both of them in our middle school production of The Music Man (!). I had the honor of singing Shapoopi in that production. There is an embarrassing video that exists on a VHS. If that video got out, it would crush any shred of credibility that I currently hold as a serious musician.

But since middle school, Paul and I have worked together several times. I’ve scored two productions by the theater company that he co-directs with his brother Jim, Fratellanza. Working with Fratellanza always has the tone for me of stretching my artistic sensibilities, and every time I work with them I grow in leaps and bounds.

The project that Paul and I worked on in Cleveland was not a Fratellanza production — we were very clear on that from the beginning. We began this project sometime in 2016, and we got about halfway through what seemed like was going to be a radio play before life got in the way and we had to abandon it. But last year, Paul recommended that we apply to the Cleveland Public Theater’s Test Flight program to try and finish our work. Test Flight is a new play development program that exists to get shows out of the development process and onto a stage. It was a perfect fit for our fledgling piece.

We started thinking about this new, staged version of the piece in earnest this Fall. I knew that I wanted to use this as a vehicle to work in Max/MSP, which is a platform that I’m becoming more and more familiar with. I also knew that I wanted to work with percussion, but that I didn’t have a huge budget to work with. So I took my close friend Costa Kazaleh Sirdenis, who is a woodworker and overall very crafty guy, to a local junkyard. Costa is also a photographer, videographer, composer, and actor, and he helped me find some amazing sounding tailpipes and brake drums. We cut them off cars with an angle grinder and got them cleaned up. I was ready to start working.

This was a fun way to start the project. I ended up recording countless samples of these instruments, as well as a glockenspiel, finger cymbals, and other knick knacks. These sounds became one of the primary sound worlds of the show.

Paul and I spent the winter conversing over the phone (he lives in Los Angeles now.) He would send me drafts of the script, and I would send him some of my sonic creations. He would record a demo of himself reading the script, and I would send him back a few different versions of different scoring options. This worked to get us to a starting point, but when we arrived to Cleveland we still had a lot of work to do.

Myself being a bit of a novice in the theater, I didn’t have a full appreciation of how skeletal our crew of 2 was. We didn’t have a director; we didn’t have a lighting designer. For me, this turned out to be an incredibly fulfilling void to step into. To be clear — Paul did the bulk of this work while we were in Cleveland, picking up most of the slack. But I was able to give input on all of the lighting cues, as well as give input on directorial decisions. I have to say, this was an incredible thrill for me. I’m immeasurably grateful that Paul trusted me enough to ask my opinion on these things, and it was extremely fulfilling artistically. It reminded me that I don’t have to always put myself in the narrow, predefined box that I often think of myself in.

The show changed a lot in our short time in Cleveland. We consulted with Cleveland-based playwright David Hansen, who served as “outside eye” for our rehearsal process and offered insightful, thoughtful, and clear feedback (David wrote a great blog post about his role in our process.)

Over the course of the week we really discovered the show. Part of that stemmed from a decision we came into the week with: we had as a tenant of the show that I should be on stage. Over the course of the week, we discovered why. Without giving too much away, I’ll just say that over the course of the show it is revealed that I’m not just scoring the show, but am actually a character in the show. That ontological shift is close to the heart of the show, and many of the important moments in the show hinge on that shift.

We performed the show three nights, and got great feedback from audiences. Paul delivered a masterful performance, putting on a masterclass in all the focus and attention it requires to be on stage in that way (it’s more focus and attention than is required of most musicians, ever, and it is terrifying.) We came in with a half-baked idea and ended with a product that we are both incredibly proud of. We’re currently in the stage of figuring out what next steps are, but we are very much looking at continuing to develop the show into something evening-length. Hopefully we can make that happen soon.

That’s it for Dividual. The next post will be about I Got To Keep Moving. Stay tuned.

Thanks for reading,

-Michael

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Spring 2019 Part 1: Five Stations

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For Piano, Saxophone and String Quartet

Composed by Michael Malis
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

For piano, saxophone, and string quartet Composed by Michael Malis, May 2019

In the spring of last year, Marcus Elliot and I were approached by Detroit Chamber Winds and Strings. They asked us if Balance (our duo collaboration) would like to do something with them. We proposed this project. We’d been extremely excited about these pieces ever since we booked the show. And when we heard that we’d be performing with musicians from the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, our excitement only grew.

Marcus and I share a deep love for the string quartet. Speaking personally, I can say that the string quartet is one of the formats that led me to the world of classical music. When I was in high school, I heard four pieces that had a deep impact on me: the Debussy string quartet, the Ravel string quartet, Phillip Glass’s 5th string quartet, and Bartok’s 2nd string quartet. These four pieces were actually the first four scores I ever acquired for study: somehow I discovered that University of Michigan’s music library had all four. I had a sister at U of M at the time (not in the music school) and I begged her to check them out for me. She did, and even photocopied them all for me to have (thanks Katina — you’re a good sister!) Studying these scores actually led me to write my first ever piece of concert of music later that year: a string quartet in four movements. This piece will never see the light of day, but it was a really important development for me as a young person.

I started this new piece for piano, saxophone, and string quartet in January 2019. I decided to use the system of composition that I’ve developed that uses playing cards/tarot cards to derive generative materials for pitch, rhythm, and form. (One of these days, I’ll devote a whole blog post to how this system works — there is some information in the post about my string quartet, Emerge. Although I don’t use cards in that piece, it uses on a similar system.) This is the spread of cards that I started with:

I use Caitlin Keegan’s deck, The Illuminated Tarot. I like it because the cards are beautiful, the writing is simple and open-ended, and the deck is reduced to the size of a standard deck of playing cards which works great for my compositional syste…

I use Caitlin Keegan’s deck, The Illuminated Tarot. I like it because the cards are beautiful, the writing is simple and open-ended, and the deck is reduced to the size of a standard deck of playing cards which works great for my compositional system.

I won’t go into the details of the representation of each card, but I will say this: the first card in the spread (the 2 of hearts) represents Balance. I took that as a good omen.

From that spread of cards, I mapped out this page. This page contains all of the precompositional materials of what would eventually become Five Stations. Some of the material from this page never made it into the composition: for example, the third pitch set (under “Resultant Tonalities,” E F# G# A D#) never really felt like a complete set for me, and the second rhythm (the 25 beat structure at the bottom) didn’t really work. But the rest of the material on the page became crucial to the piece.

Precompositional materials for Five Stations, derived from tarot cards.

Precompositional materials for Five Stations, derived from tarot cards.

In particular, the rhythm at the top of the page (the 23 beat structure) recurs throughout the piece, and is often layered on top of itself, occurring simultaneously at 2 or even 3 different speeds. And the 1st, 2nd, and 4th pitch sets under “Resultant Tonalities” (labelled 0, 1, and 7) are the only pitch sets that occur throughout the entire piece. So from that perspective, the piece is based on a very tight set of materials.

Once I started composing, the structure of the piece started to reveal itself. The piece ended up being five miniatures, each one inhabiting its own world. This to me started to feel like an allegory for the “stations of life”: this idea that in life, one extended period of time that feels whole, full, and universal can cede to another extended period of time that feels altogether different but no less whole, full, or universal. I was composing this piece during a period of intense personal upheaval — my wife and I were being displaced from our apartment and figuring out where we would live next during the period of time that I was composing this piece. I started feeling that sometimes these transitions in life happen seamlessly, and sometimes they happen quite jarringly. I began thinking of this piece as a model for those transitions between “stations.” My wife and I ended up purchasing a great house, landing safely and evading what could have been a tricky situation. I was finishing this piece throughout April, as we were moving, and put the finishing touches on it on May 1, May Day, the day that we officially moved into our new house.

The act of putting the piece together with the ensemble turned out to be fairly challenging. We were beset by a bit of bad luck — the original cellist suffered an injury and couldn’t make the performance. We found an amazing substitute in Jeremy Crosmer, who stepped in and did a fantastic job. But we also only had one rehearsal with the full ensemble.

In spite of these challenges, the ensemble turned in a world-class performance. I’m really proud with how this turned out. I’m extremely grateful to my partner in crime Marcus Elliot, who wrote a killer piece of music himself (Aesthetically Present — more on that one very soon.)

A week after this premiere, Marcus and I went to Grand Rapids MI to perform our pieces with musicians from the Grand Rapids Symphony, led by violinist Chris Martin. Chris is a staple of the artistic community around there, and we’ve been super grateful to cultivate a wonderful relationship with him and his wife Laura. They’ve introduced us to lots of musicians in that area, and we’re hopeful that we’ll continue working with them in the future. We performed at a house concert on Friday June 7 and at the Grand Rapids Festival of the Arts on Saturday June 8. I’m looking forward to many more collaborations with these musicians.

Below are the program notes I wrote for the piece. They might bring some context to what was in my mind as I was writing.

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 reflection, 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

Lastly: I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that this piece would not have been possible without the generous support of these kind patrons. Thank you so much for trusting me as an artist:

Commissioned by:

Marc and Christine Andren
Tim and Jane Stoepker
Paulie Bianchi
Kevin Kelly
Maury Okun
Detroit Chamber Winds and Strings
Jim and Gabriella Jacobs
Stephen Haines

That’s it for Five Stations. The next post will be on Friday, where I’ll be doing a deep dive into my recent collaboration with theater artist Paul Manganello, Dividual.

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A few amazing things just happened

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Hey friends —

I spent all of winter 2019 more or less underground. While I was in hibernation, a few major personal and public things were in process. On the professional side of things, I started working in earnest on three big pieces of music. All three of these pieces were developed throughout the winter, and were premiered in April and May. It was a period of intense work, and when I look back on the whole period I’m grateful to say that everything went better than I could have ever hoped for. I thought that while everything is still fresh I might as well try hard to say a little bit about what these pieces have meant to me.

So over the next couple of weeks, I’ll be posting some thoughts about these three pieces, as a way of putting a cap on this intense period. I’ll be working in reverse order:

  1. On Monday June 17, I’ll make a post about Five Stations, a piece for piano, saxophone, and string quartet which was premiered by Balance through Detroit Chamber Winds and Strings on May 31

  2. On Friday June 21, I’ll make a post about Dividual, my collaboration with theater artist Paul Manganello, which was premiered at the Cleveland Public Theater April 11-13

  3. On Monday June 24, I’ll make a post about I Got to Keep Moving, a performance piece by Balance featuring the stories of eminent author Bill Harris and the drummer Gerald Cleaver

So that’s what’s coming up! Stay tuned.

Marcus Elliot Quartet + Karriem Riggins play No. 3 by Lawrence Williams

Throwback to about two years ago when Karriem Riggins came to Cliff Bell’s and sat in with us on Number 3, the legendary and fierce composition by Detroit drummer Lawrence Williams. I’ve only gotten to play with Karriem a handful of times, and each time leaves a huge impression on me. In terms of feel, I think he’s my favorite around today.

Karriem did a live band set at Northern Lights Lounge in Detroit last weekend, featuring some of Detroit’s finest: Ian Finkelstein on piano, Sasha Kashperko on guitar, Robert Hurst on bass, and Dwight Adams on trumpet. It was a great night. Great energy in the room, and great energy coming from the stage. I ran into so many friends at that show. It felt sort of like a class reunion, but one you actually wanted to be at.

This video is cell phone quality, but worth the watch. Karriem’s playing is terrifying. This is one of my favorite musical moments, paying tribute to our collective musical ancestry through this landmark piece of music.