Out Today: The Workbench
A new EP called The Workbench is out today, on Winesap Records. It is a digital-only release, and you can listen to it here. I’ve already written about this project in earlier newsletters; if interested, you can read more about the project here.
A thoughtful review from the online magazine A Closer Listen just came out. I love how they took the time to really pay attention to the sounds and music, and grapple with the material and ideas, too.
And, here is an article from Matter News that came out last November. In it, I talk with Andy Downing about how the entire project feels like a kind of gift, one that I am just putting in motion and passing along.
The premiere of The Workbench was in November. (I was grateful I didn’t have to perform — many thanks to the Unheard-Of Ensemble!) It took place here in Columbus, Ohio, and the venue was a darkened black box theater. When I took my seat, the room was full beyond capacity. I sat in the back row, sandwiched between my wife Jen on one side and a stranger on the other side.
When I compose a piece of music, I first listen to the materials over and over again. This has been my process: I become so familiar with the samples and the parts that I start to hear them when I drive my son to school or make dinner or as I wake up in the morning. This is a slow, inefficient way of composing, and not very “professional” (but who cares? It works for me). But with this project, it was almost too much. The material was too close, too raw. Each time I heard my father’s voice, it immediately affected me, and it reduced me to a puddle of emotions.
Slowly, I became used to the recordings. I had memorized each inflection, each “uh” and “um.” The spoken words became like melodies. This familiarity allowed me to step back a bit and become slightly detached: enough to finish the piece, enough to feel like it was worth sharing with others, despite its sadness. I also saw that it felt joyful, too; a gift that the creative process had provided without me even fully realizing it.
This detachment buoyed me through the next weeks and months of composing, recording, rehearsals, and even interacting with audience members at the premiere. But when I finally got to my seat and the lights went down, everything changed. All of the emotions flooded in at once. I was forced to let go, while in such a vulnerable spot, sitting amongst all of those people. I didn’t have a choice. I guess I had been holding a lot, and in this moment of sharing I had to open up. All I can say is that I hope the stranger next to me — who undoubtedly heard a few sniffles from me — can understand! Later, I noticed my watch had warned me that my heart was racing, even though I was sitting still. When I checked the time the alert had gone off, it was exactly during the time of the piece.
After the performance, the crowded room slowly emptied. An older man walked up to me. He seemed a little hesitant, as if his emotions were also right at the surface. He looked at me and simply said, “your piece was about my father, too.” Before I could say anything in return, or get his name, he turned around and disappeared into the crowd. I think it was the best compliment one can get.
Thank you, again, for taking the time to listen to The Workbench. Be sure to look for the full video premiere during the week of the 29th. More information to come soon.
Best wishes, and happy listening –
Brian
This is fantastic work!