Scott Good

The Story of Between the Rooms – Concerto for Trumpet and Orchestra

 

Certain of my compositions hold a special place in my heart…just because I love them so!  Between the Rooms is one of those works.

I remember well the time of writing this piece, as it was shortly after the birth of my first son.

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It is one of my “Alex” pieces, of which there are three.

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I also have 2 “Nicholas” piece following his arrival 😊

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This cataloguing was something that came to me several years after writing.  I read an article about becoming a father that detailed science showing men change when they have children.  Most significantly, becoming more productive.

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Intrigued, I reflected on the pieces I had composed just after their births.  Indeed, these early months were some of my most prolific and produced some of my absolute favorite pieces!

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Thanks boys, for the inspiration 😊Thank you Jennifer for bringing them to this world!!

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The conception of Between the Rooms came after I had recently composed Babbitt, a

concerto for Saxophone, written in Alex’s first few months!  Oh, what a time this was,

and I have a picture to mark the occasion, with baby sleeping quietly in the bassinet as I

worked out this unique piece in the periods of calm.

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Writing Babbitt was a growing experience as it was the first concerto I had composed – and in this, learned it was a favorite medium for my compositional voice!  Setting a soloist out on a virtuosi adventure allowed a focus of the musical direction – like a protagonist in a novel.  And with the orchestra in conversation, limitless colour and texture to play off the soloist, allowing for vivid and dynamic interactions.

I was primed to compose another concerto.

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I had been playing with the Kitchner-Waterloo Symphony and had become enamored by

their skill, tone, and musicianship – none more so than Larry Larson, the principal trumpet

at that time – a wonderful player with a gorgeous sound (and great guy to boot!).  I have

always loved the trumpet  as a solo instrument, and being a brass player myself, it seemed an

obvious  choice as a solo instrument with Larry playing.  How delighted I was by his  enthusiastic

response when I suggested the idea of the piece to him, and so the piece was born,

conceptually.  And thanks to the KWSO, and a grant from the Ontario Arts Council,

was composed and premiered in 2008.

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Brass players are bereft of major concertos, such as the Shostakovich Violin or Brahms Piano concertos.  It was a goal from the onset to compose a significant work that could represent this kind of grand form.  A brass instrument is ideal for a major concerto with a large orchestra.  As any composer or conductor will understand that the trickiest aspect of solo writing with orchestra is to allow sonic space for the soloist to be heard!  Certainly, with a violin, this is an important consideration, but with trumpet, not so much! 

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At the onset I asked Larry if he might have any non-musical ideas, events etc that might be inspiring for the composition.  He shared with me the poem “I Died for Beauty” by Emily Dickenson.  Upon reading, I was immediately struck by the powerful yet elegant words, and it became the spark for the material, and indeed the entire form of the work.

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I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth - the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a-night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.

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For the performance upcoming on October 5th, 2024, I was able to find time to make a few revisions.  Now, I do love the piece, and mostly it remained as was, with only a few minor changes to the solo and the orchestration.  However, certain aspects truly needed to be fixed to bring the work to a satisfactory level.  My scores and parts are neater and more clearly notated than 17 years ago.  Also, I have also evolved in how I write for certain instruments, in particular, the harp, and timpani. 

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The harp is a notoriously difficult instrument to compose idiomatically for.  Perhaps mostly due to its unique playing technique. When a composer develops their craft for the violin, for instance, they are also learning about how to compose for the other string instruments, as they share many technique considerations.  The harp is oft compared to the piano, as music is written on 2 staves for the two hands.  However, this is not accurate, and the piano has numerous differences.  Most importantly, the harpist only uses 4 fingers – the pinky is simply not strong enough to participate, as the player must be able to securely pluck each note.  This is a much more demanding activity than depressing a piano key, making the harp more sensitive to technical demands.

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Since composing Between the Rooms, I have written numerous works including harp, most importantly my Sonata for Harp and String Quartet in which the harp is strongly featured and soloistic.  My confidence in writing for the instrument was greatly enhanced through the time spent writing these compositions, and taking the time to understanding exactly how each note would be played by the harpist.  It was a joy to go back into Between the Rooms, and revise the harp part, making it more idiomatic and sonorous, as it does play an important role in the composition.

The timpani are an instrument that has made me apprehensive.  I just find it hard to shake the difficulty this instrument possess – and have been tentative in my writing, deciding to not include it in certain passages due to the quick tuning changes required.

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That’s the trick – a timpanist must change the tuning of their instruments while the music is playing – and with pedals using their feet non-the-less! 

But as I have come to learn, that’s just what they do – and a professional timpanist can change the tuning quite quickly.  Thus, in returning back to this score, have upped-the-game for the timpani, and added a few sweet passages for that extra oomph and excitement only timpani can bring.

The concerto follows a standard 3 movement form (fast-slow-fast), but with a few surprises.  First, there are no pauses between each movement.  Movement 1 is both the longest and the most abstract.  It begins with circus like fanfares, darting around the orchestra, and finally arriving at the opening allegro theme with a driving 8th note rhythm oscillating between E and G.  This simple figure becomes more and more elaborate, spinning out into more dissonant harmonies and angular melodies. This energetic music arrives at a lush interlude played by the full orchestra, transitioning to the development – a series of variations exploring a variety of textures, never settling. The variations become more tense as the music builds to an unsettling climax, with a ferocious battle between the trumpet and the orchestra.  The movement ends in a calm state, with one of the few muted passages on the trumpet, leading to the first of 2 short cadenzas.

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The 2nd movement is lyric and expressive throughout.  It begins with a solo on the harp using the pentatonic scale, a core harmony of this movement.  The orchestra continues in a rich tutti, exploring jazz-like harmonies leading to a recitative solo in the trumpet in the opening pentatonic harmony.  Coming to a close, a gentle pace is established in the lower strings, leading to a series of episodes where the trumpet pairs against various sections of the orchestra in conversation, eluding to the poem with truth (trumpet) speaking to beauty (orchestra).  The emotion becomes very intense, with the trumpet soaring over a thick wind and brass texture, and strings with harp continuing the rhythmic pace.

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The finale is a raucous Bacchanalian party piece.  It begins with a driving 5/8 time giving it a Eastern European flavour, and plays between this and 7/8 time as well as other playful metric gestures.  This meter becomes increasingly intense, leading to a massive tutti in the orchestra returning to the opening E to G oscillation, now slow and heavy, and increasing in tempo each phrase until the final tempo has been reached. The violins join with the trumpet to soar epically over the percussion driven dance for full forces, bringing the work to a triumphant close.