Thread the Needle (2019)
Violin, Cello, Flute, Clarinet
16 minutes, 8 seconds
Note
(idiomatic) To find harmony or strike a balance between conflicting forces, interests, etc. Normally used to indicate the difficulty of doing so; also, sarcastically, for a failed attempt. - Wiktionary
I began writing this piece at around the time I was reading the book Dandelion Wine, by Ray Bradbury.
The book is about many things, but at its core, the book is about a boy who, one summer, has the revelation that he is in fact, a living, breathing, organic, thing; imbued with all that comes with being a living, breathing, organic, thing. When summer fades to fall, he has a similar epiphany; that because he is a living, breathing, organic, thing, he will also inevitably die, and lose all that comes with being a living, breathing, organic, thing. This piece may or may not be about any of these things, but I found the book to be beautiful.
I set out to write a piece that played with ferocity and kaleidoscopic rhythms, had peaks and valleys, a sense of stillness in the center, and a series of extended techniques that wouldn’t overpower the harmonic or emotional underpinnings of the music. This is the only piece I’ve written so far where the very first idea you hear is not actually expanded upon (other than a couple fleeting references), until about the last third of the piece. I was fascinated with the idea that your experience of the opening idea, once replayed at around the 11 minute mark, although identical, contains an entirely different emotional weight due to everything that has transpired in between. The idea then gets developed and propels us into the third act of the piece.
Digital download of all performance materials including score and parts.
Score
