Staying Engaged
Heeding Sage Advice from Ben Johnston

I began composing and arranging music for fun around the age of fifteen. For a decade and a half, I explored a wide variety of stylistic materials—from blues and jazz to Renaissance madrigals, and from classical tonality to modernist atonality. During this period, I learned to compose by studying music I liked and then composing pieces using similar materials and techniques.
As I was completing a master’s degree in performance (French horn) at the University of Colorado, I faced being drafted to serve in Vietnam. So I enlisted in the Air Force to serve in military bands. During my four-year enlistment, I wrote compositions for my colleagues. While serving in the band at the Air Force Academy, I also performed in the Colorado Springs Symphony and composed chamber works that included strings.
After my military discharge, I began a Ph.D. in musicology at the University of Illinois. Although I found those studies interesting, by then I had composed a significant amount of music, and I missed spending time composing. So, during my first semester of study, I submitted a portfolio of my works to the composition faculty to see if I could study composition as a minor.
Studying with Ben Johnston
My first interaction with composer Ben Johnston was to see him exit from an elevator and say to me in passing, “I like your music.”
I knew who he was and I admired his music. I was surprised he knew who I was. Then I realized he must have been one of the faculty composers who had reviewed my portfolio of compositions.
Since I was self-taught as a composer, I was surprised when the composition faculty offered me the opportunity to enter their doctoral program. Johnston’s offhand statement that he liked my music, plus my desire to spend my time composing, made the decision easy, and I switched degrees.
I studied with Johnston for two years, and he was a great mentor for me. He had experience with various approaches to composition, and he encouraged me to keep up my stylistic explorations. While working with him, I explored concepts ranging from medieval counterpoint to György Ligeti-like atonal textures.1
Sage Advice from Ben Johnston
Near the end of my studies with Johnston, I was working on a multi-movement chamber concerto using some of the modernist techniques I had studied. As I began composing the fourth movement, Johnston suggested I insert some elements from the vernacular styles I had worked with in my earlier years. I rejected that advice with fervor.
Johnston took this in stride and calmly suggested that the intensity of my reaction suggested I might still feel connections to my earlier musical interests. He told me that when I applied to their doctoral program, he had enjoyed hearing traces of vernacular elements in the art music I had submitted. And, he had noticed I had stopped using such stylistic mixtures in my latest works. He questioned whether that choice was wise.
In my early works, Johnston felt that mixing in vernacular influences had added a sense of vibrancy and free-spirited enthusiasm. He suspected that sometime in the future, I might once again find incorporating elements of vernacular music into my art music more fascinating than suppressing my vernacular interests altogether. I was skeptical, but...
Moving On
As I composed new works, I worked more spontaneously, and as I worked, I paid close attention to my gut-level responses.
From 1975 to 1979, I composed several vocal and instrumental works. Among the vocal works, three used vernacular-influenced poetry and prose: (1) a trio of choral pieces used poems by e. e. cummings, (2) a full-length opera used a libretto by New Orleans poet Leven Dawson, and (3) a set of solo songs for tenor and harpsichord used poems by e. e. cummings.
While working with vernacular-influenced texts, I composed vernacular-influenced music. I loved working this way and realized the wisdom of Johnston’s foresight. Not only was I working exuberantly, but I was also exploring a vastly expanded expressive range. Since then, I have mixed vernacular influences into my art music whenever it suits my expressive purpose.
In his advice, Johnston had suggested that I had found an interesting artistic pathway on my own, and rather than abandoning it, perhaps I should consider exploring it further. I didn’t welcome that advice at the time, but once I let my inner voices lead the way, I discovered his advice had been both astute and prophetic.2