ON MUSIC WRITING
by
Armando Susmano, M.D.

Delivered to The Chicago Literary Club
January 27th, 2003

SUMMARY
This paper describes the tantalizing story related after dinner by one friend (the host) to another, about the magic predictions of a former cardiac patient, and the host's concerns about future studies during retirement.

It describes the kind of composer the host wishes to be, the travails and tribulations encountered as a student of musical composition, and the intricacies of the rules, laws, and regulations that govern the writing of tonal music, as well as the background stories and comments behind each of several compositions he wrote until the time he decided to write a work for orchestra.

The story is autobiographical and the music heard during the paper was composed by the author.


[The names of the characters in this paper are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any living member of the Chicago Literary Club. However, the facts, and the story as told, are absolutely true.]

Ray and Fred have been friends for a long time and both, with their respective wives, got together for Sunday night dinner at Fred's house.

Ray was a successfully retired lawyer and Fred a semi-retired cardiologist.

Right after a delicious dinner, Ray and Fred retired to the living room to continue their conversation over a cup of coffee, while their lovely wives remained sitting at the dining-room table discussing their friends and political activism.

During their leisurely chat, Fred said to Ray, "May I tell you an interesting story?" Ray knew that once Fred would start talking it would be difficult to tell him when to stop.

Displaying a diplomatic face, looking at his left-hand wristwatch, while holding a cup of coffee in the right hand, and trying to predict how long that story might last, Ray answered very politely, "And what's so interesting?"

In a very relaxed mood, Fred said... "Well Ray, if you are patient enough, I'll tell you about it."

Ray calmly nodded his head as a sign of affirmation and, after sipping twice from his coffee cup, Fred began with his amusing story as he reclined comfortably in his leather chair.

"During the summer of 1995," Fred recalled, "a Russian émigré living in Iowa came to my office for evaluation and care of severe valvular aortic stenosis which subsequently required open heart surgery.

"She had been recommended to me by a long-time and loyal patient...you know Ray...the kind of patient that, in today's practice of medicine, is very difficult to find or to keep."

Ray, listening carefully, barely and slowly shook his head from side to side, not quite accepting Fred's comment.

"That visit was my first encounter with her," said Fred. "As soon as I entered the examining room, I found an obese woman with her son at her side, who was there to translate. I introduced myself to both, and she immediately said something in Russian. Her son's translation left me speechless."

"Why so?" interjected Ray. Fred continued:

"She had just said that I didn't look like a doctor" (Ray laughed).

"I politely asked: And what do I look like to you?' " "She answered: You look like a famous musician.' " (Now Ray was jumping in his chair.)

"While I was standing in front of them dressed with my white coat on, still shocked from her statement, I didn't know how to react or to interpret her gross misjudgment of me, or whether she was just delusional.

"I was rapidly thinking of who the famous musicians might be for whom I could pass as a look-alike none came to my mind during the few seconds that I stared at her.

"I very humbly said, Thank you,' and continued to do my job as a cardiologist.

"Ray, believe me, my return home that night was uncomplicated, but my thoughts were not. While driving through the Kennedy and the Edens, her words came back to me resonating in my ears, each time with increased intensity.

"Ray, tell me, how did she know that I would have loved to be an aspiring musician? Had she researched my background? But, even so, how could she know? Did she have E.S.P. powers? Was she a Russian seer? I remained surprised and befuddled."

"Sorry Fred, but I don't have any clues or answers for you."

"I think you know, Ray, that I had been contemplating retirement in those days, and music was, without question, one of my options."

"Yes Fred, I remember you used to talk about it."

"The days when I," said Fred, "was 15 or 16 years old and practiced the piano for six or seven hours a day, seemed very, very distant indeed. Beethoven's Pathétique sonata, Chopin's Polonaises, or Liszt's Hungarian rhapsodies were fleeting through my fingers, but I could never play them perfectly. I realized early on that I would never be able to succeed as a pianist.

"Arthur Rubinstein's story was very poignant to me. As a young pianist in Europe he was rather careless and his playing could be sloppy. He was told once that if he wanted to play in the United States he would have to practice well and be careful when playing in this country, because the American public pays to hear every single note and without mistakes."

Ray was chuckling in his chair.

"So at age 17, I entered medical school, although music continued to be a burning flame inside my heart. Musical melodies have always been present in my mind, but I never knew how to put them in writing.

"I was envious of Schubert...."

("...who isn't," said Ray...)

"....who, if music would strike his mind, while eating at a restaurant, would use his napkin as a piece of paper, jot down and sketch the music and then, at home, would transfer that music to paper.

"This was quite a contrast to Mozart who, during a game of billiards, was capable of not only composing in his mind an entire piano sonata or a movement of a piano concerto, but hours later, once at home, put that music on paper without erasing, changing, or making a single mistake in the notes. His writing was clean and as perfect as the music coming out of the print shop.

"And so, as I was driving home that night, all these peculiar thoughts were clogging my mind. I was thinking that since I would never perform at Carnegie Hall, I could at least attempt to learn how to write music."

"Fred, that sounds like a wonderful idea. So what did you do?"

"Ray, I devised a plan and, a year and a half after the encounter with that Russian patient, and shortly before retirement, I enrolled in music school to learn the basic intricacies of harmony and composition. The specter of the Russian lady was behind this decision.

"Another surprise was waiting for me the first day of composition class..."

"What was it, Fred?"

"Can you imagine, Ray, that of all the instructors at the school, I was assigned to a Russian teacher?!!! He had, however, a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago, and had been a student there of the famous composer Shulamit Ran.

"The specter and comments of the Russian lady would now acquire a special magnitude.

"With faith and determination, and despite my senior age, I went to his class every Friday afternoon. By Monday, my anxiety level to return to class on Friday was already pretty high. Ray, I loved going to composition class."

"The way you talk about it makes it clear that you really enjoyed it."

"That's right, Ray. During the ensuing two years, this teacher, equipped with an extraordinary degree of serenity, calm, tolerance, and understanding for his senior student, pounded me with all the basic set of rules, laws, and regulations that govern the writing of tonal music."

"You sound like a lawyer, Fred."

"Ray, he taught me about the importance of each sound; how there is something called home' for a sound; how one simple note repeated twice, or only two separate notes, are enough to compose an entire song, as in Liza' or s wonderful,' by George Gershwin; how each sound connects to the one preceding or the one following in the scale; how each sound is dependent on and related to the previous one or to the next; how one sound can be combined with others and make over 750,000 combinations; how sounds connect to one another to form a chord. That the chords are composed of triads and, according to the distance between notes, the chord can be defined as major or minor, which will be the basis for the key signature.

"After two years of him trying to build my musical knowledge putting one musical brick upon the other, and after grueling and unrelenting efforts of learning technical details and multiple exercises, something began to come together and take shape in my mind, to the point that he gave me the first assignment of writing short pieces for piano based on this acquired knowledge."

"Hallelujah," yelled Ray.

"You know, Ray, don't sneer, but I have to confess that fifteen years ago, when the Mayor ordered a contest for a new Chicago song that could be played at official functions, I had the boldness of writing an Ode to Chicago.' Only Frank Sinatra had given us the pleasure of his Chicago version, and apparently something more original was desired for government functions. Out of 1000 entries no winner was ever announced. Somehow the project was shelved.

"I also wrote a piano piece for my wife that I showed to my teacher the first day of class, only to see how rapidly and very politely he discarded it. Now, after two years under his direction, I could understand his reaction to my foolish impudence."

"No comment, Fred...no comment."

"I was finally given the chance to reveal the seriousness of my efforts, and one relevant question...."

"You know, Fred," interrupted Ray, "I do have a question for you."

"Yes, Ray, what is it?"

"How did you know," asked Ray, "that the music you would be writing has not already been written by somebody else in the past? Could it be possible that music you've heard 20 or 30 years ago was stored and hidden in your brain and now, through a peculiar recall mechanism, it would appear to you as original, exclusively yours, and of your own creation?"

Fred suddenly appeared to be bewildered by his friend's comments and, with his eyes wide open, he said:

"Ray, I am amazed by what you just said, because you won't believe me, but that is exactly what I had asked my teacher, and his answer was: You have nothing to worry about. One, two or three bars may sound the same, but the rest of the music will not.'

"Ray, armed with that kind of reassuring answer, the mental process of music writing began."

"But what kind of a composer would you like to be, Fred?"

"Ray, I have always differentiated between music and noise. I wanted to write music which would be pleasant to the ear and not made up of irritating, distonic, or disturbing sounds. I was not going to be a song writer.

"I understood the importance and innovations introduced by modern musicians, such as Bartok, Carter, Holst, Hindemith, Glass, Schoenberg, Boulez, or Takemitzu.

"On the other hand, Stravinsky, Prokofiev, and Shostakovich were in a different category, and I like much of their music. However, I didn't want to sound like them.

"Loud percussion or dislocated dissonances would not be in my music.

"I'm living behind the times, Ray.

"I prefer the melodic sound of the 19th century, rather than the irritating one of current musicians. My own teacher writes atonal music. I couldn't do it."

"The salmon," said Fred, "swims against the tide until the final moments of his life as a fish. I am also moving toward the final years of my life and, like the salmon, my music will also move against the tide, back toward the 19th century. I was not writing for the public to make a living with music. I did it because that's the way I felt it emotionally. That's the kind of music present in my heart and mind."

"Fred, the Russian lady might have been right after all. You may be a reincarnation of a famous musician of previous centuries."

"Ray, you don't have to be so scornful with me."

"I'm just kidding Fred, just kidding."

"Anyhow, Ray, once I made that decision, I thought, what would I like to write about?

"What will my music mean?

"How will it sound?

"What would I be able to express in the music? And how does a composer put in writing what's in his or her mind?

"In opera that is easier, because the music will match the action in the libretto. But what was Beethoven thinking or what did he have in mind when he was composing his piano concertos?

"What were the circumstances of a particular time of the day that invited geniuses like Mozart, Schubert, Chopin, or Schumann to write a particular melodic line or a whole musical piece? Can we say that they just wrote music for the sake of music without imagining anything special or being motivated by a particular event?

"Would I be able to express human emotions as the musical geniuses have done?

"Could I express pain as Tchaikovsky did in his 5th Symphony and in the opening bars of his A Minor Piano Trio,' or the pain and sadness of Schubert's Ave Maria,' or Mozart's pain and anger present in the opening bars of his Piano Sonata #7,' K. 310, written upon receiving the news of his mother's death?

"Could my music be comic like in Rossini's Barber of Seville,' or in some lines of Mozart's music, or like in the Humoresque' written by Dvorak?

"Could my music express love as Dvorak did in his Songs My Mother Taught Me,' or in the Mimi and Rodolfo duets in La Boheme,' or the pain that Butterfly experienced upon Pinkerton's return? It is rumored that even Puccini himself was crying when he wrote those lines.

"Could I equally bring tears to any woman's eyes, when watching a father dance with his daughter on her wedding night to the tune of Sunrise, Sunset' from Fiddler on the Roof'?

"Would I be able to portray the calm, soothing, placid serenity that Saint-Saëns created in his mind visualizing a swimming swan for his Carnival of the Animals,' or the religious sublimity of the Air' by Bach in his Suite No. 3'?

"Could I mimic the effect of water as Debussy did in La Cathedrale Engloutie,' (the engulfed cathedral) or the wrath of nature, as in the storm that Beethoven recreated in his 6th Symphony (Pastoral), or the celestial feelings one gets listening to any middle movement of a Mozart piano concerto, or even the beautiful romanticism that emanates from Chopin's, Schumann's, or Brahms' piano concertos?"

"Fred, may I have more hot coffee? I really want to stay awake to hear the rest of the story."

"Fresh brewed coffee is on its way, Ray.

"Faced with that gargantuan task, Ray, I decided that my first piano composition would be in honor of my grandchildren. The questions began to pile up:

"In what key signature would I write it?

"Should I start with a period or a sentence?

"With what rhythm? At what tempo?

"My teacher had mentioned to me that I should write a short piano piece, but how short is short?

"I didn't want to write something like Chopin's preludes No. 7 and 20, Opus 28, which are only 16 and 13 bars long, or short, whatever you want to call them, nor Schumann's Opus 15, A Poet Speaks,' that has 26 bars.

"I decided to write a lullaby for the kids, and selected a D major key from a melody that kept buzzing around in my head.

"I wrote the first 10-12 bars and presented them to him."

"What did he say," asked Ray.

"Well, he looked at the draft very attentively and, after 3-4 minutes of deep silence, that seemed like an eternity, he said seriously while looking me into my eyes: You wrote this in the style of Pachelbel.'

"For the second time in two years I became speechless again.

"What did he mean by that?

"What he putting me down?

"Was he praising me?

"Pachelbel (1653-1706) was a Baroque musician (organist) known for his Cannon.' Ray, believe me, I sat quietly with my hands between my legs and listened to him making more comments. For the next three classes I presented the rest of the music, just the way I heard it in my head. It was 46 bars long. After a few revisions, he finally approved it and said, You need a title.' I shrugged. He sensed my ambivalence, and said, Call it "Bagatelle." '

"It reminded me of the way Beethoven titled his most simple and useless compositions. Let's listen for a while."

("Bagatelle" music played.)

"One month had elapsed since my first official composition when I presented him with my next assignment. A Romance' for my oldest daughter. How could I express in music the golden nature of this girl? How to describe the sweetness and the goodness pouring out of my daughter's heart?

"I elected to write arpeggiated melodies so the music would sound as if played and produced by the sweet and ethereal sound of a harp."

"Fred, I'm anxious to know what happened."

"Ray, just listen to this.

"He again looked attentively at the score, and then he said: This time you have advanced 100 years.' "

"Hallelujah!!" uttered Ray.

"That made me feel great, but speechless again for achieving such a tremendous leap in just one month.

"I want you to hear how it sounds," said Ray.

("Romance" music played.)

"The words of the Russian lady unremittingly began to resonate again in my ears. But I kept repeating to myself, who would listen to my music?"

"Oh, Fred, you know that Leah and I would always listen to your music."

"That's really comforting, Ray.

"Anyhow, my once a week class continued, and as I learned new material I incorporated it in my future compositions.

"Do you know, Ray, that my teacher was surprised when, a few weeks later, I showed him the first of two pages of a piano/cello duet in honor of my brother's birthday, my brother being an aspiring cellist? The music starts with a descending D minor scale melody, and follows with a short question and answer interaction between the cello and the piano.

"Could I tell you, Ray, that the following class he brought a tape of a piano/cello duet written by Leonard Bernstein? We listened and analyzed it. He suggested that I should follow Bernstein's example. He wanted the piano part to be more dynamic, with which I agreed. But there was a problem. I had to write the music the way I heard it in my head, not the way Bernstein conceived it in his."

"So, Fred, what did you do?"

"I finished the project, the way I felt it, and after a few corrections he approved it. He never mentioned Pachelbel again."

"Fred, may we hear the first part of the duet?"

"Of course."

("Etude for Cello and Piano" [in D Minor] music played.)

When the music stopped, Fred added: "I began to feel that now I was making real progress and was becoming more daring."

"What do you mean by that, Fred?"

"Well...the next time I would tackle the violin, and I started on a piece in honor of my beloved youngest daughter, who played very well in middle and high school, and got to be a member of the Skokie Valley Youth Symphony. Unfortunately, she stopped playing when she went to college. However, my enthusiasm was growing, and I conceived a piece with a melody and variations in the style of Paganini!!! I faced some hurdles, but eventually they were overcome.

"I would like to hear that piece, Fred."

"By the way, Ray, may I offer you a glass of Grand Marnier or Crème de Cassis? I think that, with coffee and my music, it will make for a lively combination," said Fred very ironically.

("Sandra's Variations" music played.)

"I really enjoyed this piece, Fred."

"Thank you Ray. Thank you.

"The next piece was a G minor étude for piano and violin for my grandchild, a 9-year-old boy, who was learning to play the violin. I was able to express my love for him in a rather simple way, because I wanted to play that piece with him.

"When my teacher saw the initial draft, he became animated and uncomfortable."

"Why?"

"Well, I had started the music without an introduction!!! A musical composition, like a book or a paper for the Chicago Literary Club, should have introductory material followed by a development section, and then a logical conclusion. I was so involved in developing the melody that I had completely ignored making the initial statement.

"You know, Ray, that in many compositions the melody and the music that follows are derived from the introduction. This is very obvious in Mozart's piano concertos, where the most important parts in the first movement are already present in their introductory segment. One can then use elements from the introduction and modulate them in different directions. There are times when the music will lead the composer in a direction that he or she did not originally plan, something my teacher repeatedly emphasized: Where is the music going?' Where is the music taking you?'

"It reminded me of Pirandello's play Six Characters in Search of an Author.' Where is the music taking the composer?"

"Well, either to fame or to the bank," added Ray, in a sarcastic mood.

"Well said, Ray, well said.

"So, after writing the introduction, it was quite evident that the whole piece sounded completely different and was structurally of better quality."

By this time, Ray's head was falling on his chest from a superficial dream, and suddenly jerked upright, awakened by Fred's loud question:

"Ray, are you willing to hear part of this étude?"

"Of course, Fred, I'd love to."

(Music played: "Elliott's Étude for Violin and Piano" [in G minor].)

"The next piano piece was conceptually a real problem for me."

"Why so?" asked Ray.

"I wanted to write a classical tango with an obligato left hand. I entitled it Tango Fantasy.' This was supposed to be an interplay between the old style of tango versus the new one of Piazzolla. I wrote eleven bars and couldn't find a way to continue. For eight solid months I tried several times, but the music wouldn't follow, until one day, while playing at the piano a piece by Piazzolla, I bumped into an area that gave me an idea of how to continue and finish the composition. I introduced the rhythm of the "Golden Period of Tango" (from the twenties to the fifties) and then, in contrast, a Piazzolla-like rhythm. For a moment, the two worlds of tango coexist, but then they separate and each one goes back to its own style. They just couldn't mix. Let's listen."

("Tango Fantasy" music played.)

"Do you know, Ray, that at a recital where my piano/cello duet was presented to the public, a Vietnamese physician approached me at the end of the concert? He liked the cello part very much and asked if I could write a duet for cello and guitar, the instrument that he played."

"Holy cow!!!" exclaimed Ray.

"I told him that I didn't know how to write for guitar.

"Would you believe me, Ray, if I told you that, at this point, the image of the Russian lady appeared in front of me while I was talking to this physician? I thought she was telling me, I told you so.' Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

"I hope so," observed Ray. "Otherwise you would be beginning to sound kind of weird."

"Do you know, Ray, that the Vietnamese phyisician sent me by mail a picture of the guitar frets and the names of each string to make my writing easier, and he suggested that I compose it in the key of A minor, which apparently is better for the guitar?

"When I mentioned this episode to my teacher, he was very surprised...."

"....I bet," interrupted Ray.

"...and he said, Are you already getting commissions'?!!!

"This duet took some time to begin writing, but it started to take shape when I learned new compositional techniques and new chord structures.

"I envisioned that piece with an introduction of sounds that mimic an oriental style of music, since this physician came from an Asian country, followed by western classical-style music, to symbolize his immigration to the United States and his exposure to western-style music.

"The piece starts in A flat major, transiently moves to F major, and the minorization of the fourth, together with the Italian and French chords, were used to provide color in the music.

"The presence of the guitar in this duet persuaded me to introduce Spanish-style music, to which I had been exposed during my early life in Argentina or heard through records, or traveling and attending night shows in Spain. A segment of Flamenco-like rhythm with a short guitar solo was written in the middle of this piece, and the composition ends with a repeat of the opening bars, with their Asian flavor, meaning that this doctor will always be attached to the kind of music he was exposed to as a child or adolescent. In other words, his past musical experience will always be with him."

"Fred, I really would like to hear this music."

"O.K. Ray, here it is."

("Nocturne for Cello and Guitar" music played.)

"Ray, as part of my assignment for short piano pieces I elected to do one for each season and entitled them "Four Seasons." Nothing that would compare to the famous "Four Seasons" of Vivaldi, which are in reality a combination of four concertos for violin and orchestra. Tchaikovsky had written a piece called "The Seasons," but in reality they are a compilation of 12 piano pieces, written and titled for each month of the year. Piazzolla wrote about each porteño season for a combination of instruments.

"Music similar to Vivaldi's title, but written for solo piano, seemed to me to be an original idea, since I was not aware of similar titles in the literature for solo piano.

"I was happy to dedicate three of them to pianists who are very close friends of mine.

"In the first one, Autumn, I imagined myself in the middle of a Wisconsin farm surrounded by trees with many-colored leaves, on a sunny, barely cool afternoon, with no wind and not a single noise, not even the sounds of birds. The most quiet, serene, colorful, and peaceful autumn afternoon anyone could dream of. The music starts in a soft D minor key, and is a short piece just like my teacher had envisioned I would have written long ago.

"Shall we listen now?"

"Sure Ray, why not."

("Autumn" music played.)

"In the second one, Winter, I thought of a person returning from work at night and feeling a cold chill upon stepping out of the car. The music starts with a strong G major tremolo to mimic the chill, and as the person enters the house he would immediately hear the irregular, crackling sounds coming from the fireplace. As the person sits down in the living room to rest and listen to music, a G minor melody appears and, after the development, the music ends imagining the person falling asleep under the effect of the soft crackling sounds and the warm air projected from the fireplace."

"It's time to listen to this one, Fred."

("Winter" music played.)

"In the next one, Spring, flowers, jumping squirrels crossing the street or climbing trees, and spring showers come to mind. The music starts in A minor, modulates to D minor, and G minor, with German and Neapolitan chords introduced to provide color. In the development segment, we can hear the effect of raindrops in the key of D minor. There is a short part in the development segment where the music sounds almost painful, because it was written after going through a very traumatic surgical experience, and my state of mind was reflected in the music."

"Fred, I want to hear the raindrops and your pain."

"I hope you are not serious, Ray."

("Spring" music played.)

"In the last piece, Summer, life has come back into full swing with sunny days, people enjoying the outdoors, and sports activities. The music attempts to reflect that environment, starting in F sharp minor and modulating to A minor, then A major, and ending with a strong, almost fourth of July fireworks scale.

("Summer" music played.)

"You know, Fred, you have done a lot in the past three years."

"Well Ray, in reality it has been five years since I began this musical journey. I've had an exhilarating and very rewarding time. I'm still going to class and, although I've learned an extraordinary amount on music writing, there is yet so much more to learn.

"My weekly anxiety to reach Friday has not diminished. On the contrary, it has grown more intense, even if my teacher were to reject what I wrote."

"So what's next with you?"

"Well, Ray, I'm going to surprise you, but I even had the chutzpah ten months ago to write a piece for flute, string orchestra, and percussion.

"Do you know that in all this time, from a total of 54 written pages, my teacher has helped me to revise only the first 12 pages?!!

"I expressed my concern that it may take another year or more to finish the revisions and he said to me: Don't worry. Remember that it took Brahms thirteen years to complete his first symphony. So you still have time.'

" Do I,' I thought to myself? Do I?' After all, it has been a marvelous experience and in answer to my question of who will play my music:

"For me, the answer now is no longer relevant, as long as my friends, like you Ray, my children, grandchildren, and future great-grandchildren will either play it, listen to, or talk about their grandfather's music, I'll be a happy composer and will be smiling in my grave.

"And you know, Ray, I am extremely grateful to my teacher, for whom I have no words to express my gratitude for having been such a wise beacon, for his patience, understanding, and tolerance, and for guiding me through the complicated maze of music writing that I didn't know how to navigate before.

"From time to time, the words of the Russian lady still reverberate in my ears, but visions of her don't appear in front of me anymore...."

"Fred, it's getting kind of late and I have work to do tomorrow, but I'd like to hear about the last word on the orchestral music....

"...Ray, regarding my experience with the orchestral work, well...well...well...that should be the subject for another after-dinner chat."

BIOGRAPHY
Dr. Armando Susmano was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and graduated from the University of Buenos Aires Medical School in December 1955.

He came to the United States in 1961, where he completed training in Internal Medicine and Cardiology at Rush-Presbyterian St. Luke's Medical Center. He has been on the staff of that hospital working as an invasive cardiologist since 1968. He retired in January 1997, and is currently Emeritus Cardiologist and Associate Professor of Medicine at Rush Medical College.

He is a member of many medical societies. He received teaching awards at Rush Medical College and is also an Honorary AOA member.

He has lectured in the United States and abroad, and has published 31 medically related papers in peer reviewed journals.

Since his retirement, he has produced two CD's of piano solo playing of tangos and, a year ago, he published a book of poetry in Spanish.

Since 1997, he has been a student of composition at the Music Institute of Chicago (Winnetka) and has written works for piano, violin, cello, and guitar.

Tonight's paper is his second at the Chicago Literary Club.