Starting Symphony 5

Writing a symphony begins with the decision to write it. Aside from the questions – can I, should I – the decision itself – I will – is the beginning.

I’m gonna compose this work; it will be my fifth symphony.

I’ve decided that it will be a symphonic work for only steelpans, and this is the scary part – excited-scary, not the other sort. To date, I’ve written only two purely steelpan pieces: a solo piece, Pan Solo Number 1, for tenor solo; and Daina’s Smile, a short ensemble piece.

One of the things I want for this work is for it to feel genuine. It must be genuinely a steelpan piece, genuinely Trinidadian, genuinely me. For those three ideas to fit together in one piece will be tricky. But not impossible.

The question of a “genuinely steelpan piece” is tantalizing; the instrument is so new – just a few decades of history – and we’re still exploring what it means to write for this instrument’s voice. Because of the way in which the notes are arranged on the face of the instruments, the typical vocal-style melodic line favoring stepwise intervals between notes is not a requirement. Steelpan melodies, and therefore voice leading, have broader options available than is typically the case. We can break some of those rules.

So, for me, “genuinely steelpan” means a style of melodic creation that takes advantage of this unique aspect of the instrument, that notes a fourth apart or a fifth apart or an octave apart can be really close together on the pan’s face, so there is no extra effort to accommodate a melody that leaps around.

Another thing about the unique voice of the pan is that, since these are in fact drum instruments, the sound of each note has a percussive articulation – very quick initiation followed by a sharp drop-off – and then a fairly long ring. Essentially a bell. It’s not like a violin where the player can adjust the articulation with the direction, speed, or weight of the bow, or like a trumpet where the player can adjust the articulation by manipulation of the lips and tongue and the strength of the breath.

So, “genuinely steelpan” means accepting the drum nature of the instrument and adapting to its idiomatic percussive articulation.

So many more ideas. But let these meager few suffice for now.

What’s a “genuinely Trinidadian” music, anyway? Here in Trinidad you’ll hear Kaiso! Soca! Calypso! Yes, true.

And there’s more. There’s a melody to the way Trinidadians talk, and this aspect of daily sound is a filter through which we not only create but also interpret melodic sounds. Rhythm, and the capacity to accept, recognize, respond to and engage with a highly sophisticated language involving the relative durations and intensities of sounds, is the cornerstone of Trinidadian music.

These concepts exist as aspects of the sound world of Trinidad and Tobago. So, any new music that hopes to be “genuinely Trinidadian” has to invoke – indeed, inhabit, that sound world.

As for me? “Genuinely me”? That’s the easy part. If I write it and I giggle, that’s good. If I sigh, I cry, that’s okay too. Cringe? Absolutely! If it somehow speaks to me and also speaks for me and speaks of me through whatever means, then that’s me.

Because, music encodes and embodies lived experience.

So much more to say. But there’s world enough and time, right?

So, onward.

I’ll keep you posted.