World Premiere²

March 7, 2013, a date that will remain in my memory for the years to come. In it I happened to have not only one but two world premieres. “Ccantu”, for solo piano was performed by 18-year-old pianist Priscila Navarro during her debut concert at Carnegie Hall in New York and “Lord of the Air”, my concerto for cello and orchestra, was premiered by Jesús Castro-Balbi and the TCU Symphony Orchestra conducted by Germán Gutiérrez in Fort Worth, Texas.

The story goes back to late 2010 when a Swedish pianist commissioned “Ccantu” to include it in an upcoming tour. Upon receiving the piece, he enthusiastically conveyed his excitement and satisfaction to me, so we began exchanging emails and phone calls in the months leading to the premiere. One day, however, I got a baffling message from him explaining his decision not to play the piece at all. This sudden turn of events meant that “Ccantu” would remain unperformed, at least within the foreseeable future. It is always hard for a composer to put a piece back in the drawer and see all that effort stay unrewarded, but as difficult as it was, I nevertheless decided to put all that behind and move on to the next project.

About a year later however, everything changed when Lydia Hung, former Headmaster of the National Conservatory of Music of Peru, contacted me saying that Priscila Navarro and her teacher, Professor Michael Baron, were looking for a piece to premiere during Priscila’s debut concert. This couldn’t be better news; Ccantu would not only be finally played (two years after its completion), but it would be part of the recital of a young and promising pianist who would make her professional debut at Carnegie Hall. I accepted without hesitation and asked my publisher to send a copy of “Ccantu” to her right away. Regrettably, I was unable to attend the concert because I was needed in Texas for the rehearsals of “Lord of the Air”, but I know that among those present was the Peruvian Ambassador to the United Nations and several other prominent figures. Priscila is indeed an incredibly talented pianist who promises to have a brilliant career in the years to come.

The complexities preceding a world premiere cannot be underestimated, especially when involving dozens of people, as was the case in “Lord of the Air”, scored for cello and orchestra. Issues of balance between soloist and orchestra needed to be worked out and a few adjustments here and there had to be made to the solo part. In the end though, everything worked out well and we had a wonderful performance which was attended by some of the most prominent cellists in the US and abroad. Among them Carlos Prieto, who back in 2008 commissioned me the obligatory piece for the competition that carries his name and which takes place in Morelia, Mexico every three years.

“Lord of the air” was the centerpiece of the opening concert of TCU’s 2013 Cello Fest, and it was broadcasted live on the Internet, allowing for a broader audience to witness the performance of this work. The concert began with a few remarks by Jesús Castro-Balbi, Germán Gutiérrez and myself, where I explained the concept behind the piece to a very attentive audience. Germán, our conductor, did an outstanding job, serving as a solid bridge between soloist and orchestra, and Jesús, our soloist and dedicatee, shined showcasing his virtuosity and musicality. This piece is already scheduled to be performed in July during the “Music in the Mountains” Festival in Durango, Colorado and we certainly hope that this will only be the beginning of a long and rewarding life on the concert stage.

During my stay in Fort Worth I also had the opportunity to visit my dear friend, conductor Miguel Harth-Bedoya, who found time within his busy schedule to attend some rehearsals, sharing his views and making valuable suggestions. I will be coming back to Fort Worth in May (17-19) for the world premiere of “Perú Negro”, which was commissioned by and dedicated to Miguel and the Centennial Season of the Fort Worth Symphony Orchestra. Exciting times lie ahead of me, but it is unlikely that the remarkable coincidence of having two world premieres on the same night and exactly at the same time will repeat itself any time soon. And, to be perfectly honest, I would prefer for that not to happen that often, that way I won’t be forced to miss one of them!

Musical ambassadors

“Conductors are ambassadors of composers”said Kurt Masur once during a conducting master class a few years ago, “we are here on behalf of people who are greater than us”. Although those two phrases have the power of inflating any composer’s ego, I would suggest caution. Masur was probably not just referring to any composer but to the greatest composers of all time, and in doing so he was establishing a very clear hierarchy, but most importantly, he was defining the role of the conductor as communicator and pivotal figure between creator and listener.

As a composer of mostly orchestral music I have had the privilege of working with several conductors. While most of them have only conducted my music once, others keep programming my works up to this day. The most rewarding relationships are those that develop over the years because this allows a conductor to track a composer’s development, leading to a deeper understanding of his/her musical thought.

Composing is a solitary job; we don’t interact with other people while writing our music, at least when I sit down to work I do so in absolute intimacy, closed doors and complete silence. It is only at the performance that a piece comes to life and it is only then that it can be experienced by others. In this sense I tend to disagree with Arnold Schoenberg who once said: “music need not be performed any more than books need to be read aloud, for its logic is perfectly represented on the printed page; and the performer, for all his intolerable arrogance, is totally unnecessary except as his interpretations make the music understandable to an audience unfortunate enough not to be able to read it in print.”[1]. Apart from being quite an arrogant statement it also fails to understand that, as ethereal as our art can be, performance is the consummation of the creative process because it is only then that music is able to transcend the world of ideas and materialize in the form of sound waves. Listening to music can be a spiritual, emotional and intellectual experience but it is also physical, and it only becomes physical during a performance. This is why interpreters are essential for the survival of our art.

In contrast to composing, conducting is an inherently social activity because it cannot come to fruition without the intervention of other human beings. In other words, a conductor is incapable of performing his/her job unless he has a group of musicians in front of him. He himself cannot produce any sound, yet he controls the forces of the orchestra, who has willingly surrendered to his authority. His place is somewhere in between composer and performer and between orchestra and audience. He serves as a link, bringing and connecting everyone and everything together. He cannot perform his job alone, yet he must stand in the spotlight, on the podium, apart from the rest. He hasn’t written the music, yet he must know it as if he had written it. And, if for whatever reason the composer is not present during rehearsals, the conductor has the last word in any doubt that may arise concerning the score.

As heads of artistic organizations, conductors need to be very practical-minded people, sometimes fulfilling administrative duties that have no artistic aspect to it. Rehearsal time is limited and going over time is hardly acceptable in the orchestra world, so they need to be very concise in their use of words and gestures. Composers, on the other hand, are generally not very pragmatic and usually lack concision in their use of words and gestures. There are exceptions, of course, especially if they are conductors or instrumentalists themselves and have a good understanding of how the system works. This is where conductors perform one of their essential duties: translating the composer’s thought, which can be quite abstract and immaterial, and bring it down to earth. I have seen many conductors exercising this function and in the process I have learned to be more concise not only when expressing my ideas but also when writing my scores. Orchestration books alone did not help me get where I am at now. And even though my instrumental writing has improved mainly due to the feedback I have got from orchestra players, a conductor’s contribution cannot be underestimated. Their clarity of thought has sometimes led me to rethink the way I write a piece and this in turn has resulted in a more clear and understandable score. Not only can a very well written score save precious rehearsal time, it also helps bring about a better performance. This is one of the hardest things for young composers to achieve: knowing exactly how to materialize their musical ideas and how to translate them into musical notes. Conductors usually excel at this, especially because they know as much of music theory as they do of musical performance.

Like every other performer, conductors also have to bring their own interpretation to a given work, and this is where one can find enormous differences. It only takes a few recordings of, let’s say, and enormously popular work like Beethoven’s fifth symphony, to realize how different a version can be from one another. How different a Kleiber from a Klemperer or a Toscanini! This is an aspect that is even harder to quantify and it sometimes takes a great conductor to really bring out the best of a piece for it to be fully appreciated. In contrast to other performers, the conductor does not have direct physical communication with his instrument. A pianist can decide exactly how soft he wants a note to be, it might not be easy to produce a fast pianississimo (ppp) passage, but at least he has total control because there is no intermediary between his body and the instrument. The conductor however cannot do anything but give indications with his hands, face and body so he must establish direct and instantaneous communication with the orchestra musician. At first it might seem like this takes away the pressure from him because he need not worry about playing anything, but nothing could be farther from the truth. The conductor needs to be totally aware of everything happening during a performance and this demands an extremely high level of concentration for long periods of time. In this sense, the best symphonic interpretations come about after a long working relationship between an orchestra and a conductor; it takes years to develop good mutual understanding.

The first conductor I ever worked with was Miguel Harth-Bedoya and we have developed a lasting friendship and a strong working relationship. We met back in 1994, when Miguel founded the Lima Philharmonic Orchestra and I was still in high school. Miguel has seen my development from being and aspiring musician to becoming a PhD in composition. With every new work we need less and less time of preparation because at this point our communication is almost intuitive. He is very economic with words, preferring to communicate his ideas through body language. We hardly talk about the origins and inspiration of a work, focusing instead on the score and leaving the music to speak for itself. So if anything, I can say that long-term collaborations are to be nourished and preserved because they can lead to some of the most rewarding experiences in one’s professional life.

The world of music is wonderfully symbiotic. We are all links in a chain and we depend on each other to exist. Starting with the composer, continuing with the conductor and passing through the performer all the way to the listener, we all form part of a communication process that would be incomplete should any one of us were missing. Like Kurt Masur said, conductors are ambassadors, they bring a message that might not necessarily be theirs but it is a message in which they strongly believe in and which they are eager to share with everyone out there who is willing to listen. As composers we must see conductors as our allies, they are, after all, the people in whom we have entrusted our music, a delicate collection of sounds written in utmost intimacy but which would remain lost in the world of ideas were it not for them, the men and women who connect us with the rest of the world and who make it possible for our message to reach humanity at large.

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[1] Schoenberg in Newlin 1980: 164. Spoken in 1940.

Synesthésie à Paris

November 19, 2012 in the morning. The recording session is about to begin.

Who can resist an invitation to Paris? Not me, for sure. Having lived at the Cité Internationale des Arts for almost a year between the fall of 2009 and spring of 2010 and having had a wonderful experience, I was ready to go back at the first opportunity. It turns out that opportunity showed up earlier than expected.

In November 2010 Marc-Olivier Dupin, then Music Director of Radio France, asked me to write a ten-minute long orchestra piece for the Radio series “Alla Breve”. Composer Marc-André Dalbavie, with whom I had worked at the Paris Conservatoire,  recommended me, and his recommendation resulted in this commission.

I started to work on the piece in the summer of 2011, completing it by the end of that same year. The title, “Synesthésie” (Synesthesia) refers to a condition in which a person experiences unusual connections between senses. A color, for example, may evoke a particular sound and a flavor might bring to mind a geometric form. I chose this title because the commissioner had very specific guidelines for the piece in terms of structure and duration: it had to be divided into five separate movements of two minutes each. This format was extremely challenging because I usually let the musical ideas determine the duration of a movement, but this time I had to conform to a very clear model, so I tried to find a concept that would allow me to create five separate entities that could enjoy a strong connection while maintaining their independence. After much thought I realized that our five senses, albeit separate, are in constant interaction, and even more so in the case of those individuals who have synesthesia.

Each movement is named after a different sense, starting with touch and ending with vision. I decided to conclude the piece with “Vision” because this word also implies a state of revelation where all the elements come together, bringing the piece to a unified close. This was also the largest orchestral ensemble I had written up to that moment, so it allowed me to utilize instrumental combinations I hadn’t fully explored before, especially in the woodwind section. Each movement exploits the resources of a different instrumental group. Toucher (touch), the first movement, utilizes skin percussions. Odorat (smell) focuses on the strings. The woodwinds are prominent in Goût (taste), and the brass and metal percussions shine in Audition (hearing). Finally, all instrumental groups come together in Vision, the fifth and final movement. While writing this piece I had in mind the great French masters of orchestration such as Ravel and Debussy, who had greatly influenced me during my formativeyears. Another French composer whose influence has been very strong is Gérard Grisey, although this is not immediately apparent in my music.

Little did I know that after completing the piece in late 2011, I would still have to wait for almost a year to have it performed. But I was extremely happy when I got confirmation that the recording session was going to take place on November 19 with the Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France under the direction of Pierre-André Valade. It was definitely worth the wait. Not long after receiving confirmation I had already booked my tickets and hotel room, ready to go back to La Ville-Lumière.

When the day finally arrived I was overjoyed with excitement. I got early to the rehearsal hall, took a seat and waited for the musicians to arrive. I was then introduced to conductor Pierre-André Valade who, besides being an excellent conductor and an incredibly charming and approachable person, didn’t have any reservations in telling me how much he had enjoyed studying the piece and how much he looked forward to recording it. From that moment on I knew “Synesthésie” was in very good hands.

The recording session started at 10am and ended around 4pm. Everything flowed with ease and I was really happy to notice the level of commitment and professionalism with which Pierre-André, the musicians and studio technicians worked all day. The day after the recording I was interviewed by Anne Montaron at La Maison de Radio France where I gave a little more detail on the piece. I stayed for a couple of more days in Paris with my partner, visiting old friends and touring the main city landmarks. I do hope I will have a reason to go back soon, although, who needs a reason to visit Paris other than the city itself? I return home full of energy with the satisfaction of having accomplished what I had set out to do two years ago when I first received this commission.

“Synesthésie” is scheduled to be aired on Radio France from December 3 to 10, 2012. It will be also available for streaming from the Alla Breve website.

À bientôt!

It’s time for music!

The Juilliard School of Music in NYC, where the first round of auditions for ‘Bel Canto’ was held.

There’s no feeling like flying back home; especially after a rewarding stay in Chicago, a city that has welcomed me on more than one occasion and always succeed in making me feel like one of its own. This flight is finally providing me with a moment to reflect on the past few weeks.  Intense, is the word to describe them. I’ve had to juggle my time between traveling, finishing my cello concerto and holding the final round of conversations regarding the libretto.  I can’t complaint; being busy does feel good indeed, especially when doing something I love.

But let me go back to the last week of October, when I went to New York for the first meeting of the Bel Canto creative team in full: Renée Fleming, Nilo Cruz, Stephen Wadsworth, Anthony Freud and myself. Our first meeting took place at the Juilliard School of Music on Friday, October 26, where we had our first round of auditions for some of the title roles in the opera. As of now, only one star has been engaged, Danielle DeNiese, so we are still far from done in regards to casting. We listened to six promising young singers, all of who made a lasting impression on us. Listening to them was a wonderful experience (the level was extremely high indeed) but the most interesting part for me came when we had to share our impressions. It was fascinating to see how our respective backgrounds informed our opinions and how each one of us focused on different aspects.

Renee was mainly concerned with vocal technique and prowess; her extensive knowledge and experience allowed her to pinpoint exactly the virtues and shortcomings of each voice type. Not only that, she was also able to extrapolate what she had just listened to in the audition room and to mentally project it to the stage of an opera house, with its massive differences concerning size and acoustics.  Nilo was mainly interested in the acting skills of each singer, and he had a clear idea of what he was looking for: poise, vocal projection, histrionic versatility; all of these factors played and essential role in his evaluations and he was adamant in finding a singer who could not only deliver a wonderful musical performance but who could also imbue with life the characters he had designed and created. Stephen, being a director, had an all-encompassing vision. He was able to foresee whether a singer would be capable of impersonating a certain role and whether his specific voice skills would allow him to deliver a convincing performance. He also served as a moderator, making sure that all opinions were heard. Anthony, with his keen intellect, extensive knowledge as director of major opera houses, and ability to listen attentively, often summarized and put our opinions in contrast. This way, he gathered all the scattered pieces of information we had delivered trying to make sense of them while also adding his own observations. Finally, as the composer, I would listen to each candidate and imagine him (all singers present at the audition were male) singing my own music. This constitutes the ultimate test for me. Can you bring the necessary energy to the role I will write for you? Do you have all the qualities that the character in question needs? Are you capable of taking the notes on the staff and elevating them to greater heights, to places where not even I am capable of envisioning right now? As abstract as it may sound, vocal technique and acting skills alone won’t do it. There is something beyond that only a few can deliver but that everyone in the audience can feel. Of course none of us present in the jury took into account just a single factor; but each of us brought something different and unique, which is what made those exchanges of opinion so incredibly interesting.

The following day I went to the Metropolitan Opera of New York and saw Verdi’s “Otello” and Adès’ “The Tempest”. Renée Fleming was sublime as Desdemona and I was really heart-torn by her performance, especially during the second act. “The Tempest” was a true adventure in regards to direction; Robert Lepage is a fountain of striking and outlandish ideas that made this opera extremely watchable. It was refreshing to listen to two diametrically opposed visions of Shakespeare on the same day, one from Verdi and the other from Shakespeare’s countryman, the remarkable Thomas Adés.

The final meeting took place on Sunday, October 28 where the creative team plus Andy Melinat, Director of Artistic Administration at the Lyric Opera of Chicago, met for the final discussions on the libretto. This meeting gave us all a chance to voice our views on the latest draft of the libretto. It most definitely saved us dozens of emails and phone calls; we were finally able to contrast or visions regarding the text and to make a few much needed decisions in order to speed up the completion of the libretto. Now that I have finished my cello concerto I can finally devote myself entirely to “Bel Canto”, so I intend to start with some of the most structurally important sections of the opera. I do not have the final version yet with me, but I have enough material to start working on the music. There is enough material for me to start working, especially instrumental sections and arias that won’t be changed. The next step is to get the final version from Nilo in the coming weeks and to make the translations of the text to the other languages used in this opera, mainly English, Spanish and Japanese, but also bits of French, Russian and Quechua.

As for my Chicago trip, I went there to attend the Chicago Humanities Festival, specifically the panel “Creating an American Opera from scratch”, which was moderated by Colin Ure and where Nilo and I explained in more detail the work we have been doing during the past few months and the work that lays ahead of us. The audience was remarkable in that at least 80% had read Ann Patchett’s best-seller and the questions were really insightful. It was a fun hour were we gave the audience a taste of how the process of creating an opera is like.

Also during my brief stay in Chicago I had the chance to attend performances of Verdi’s “Simon Boccanegra” at the Lyric Opera and Sondheim’s “Sunday Afternoon in the Park with George” at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater, both excellent performances.

I am excited to be back home to work on Bel Canto. As you may all imagine, I’ll be fully devoted to this project during the next three years, so it’s a good thing that I have had a very productive past couple of years. In total, five works of mine remain unperformed: Ccantu, for solo piano; Warped Symmetry, for solo flute; Synesthésie, for orchestra; Perú Negro, for orchestra and Lord of the Air, for cello an orchestra; all of which are scheduled to be premiered within the next six months in New York, Helsinki, Paris and Fort Worth. Exciting times lay ahead of me. Being busy is good indeed.

Back to the Magic City

Miami, August 2, 2011. After an overnight flight from San Francisco I finally arrive to my hotel, eager to meet Nilo Cruz in the city that he has called home since he first arrived to the US as a little boy. Nilo allowed me into the intimacy of his working space, where so many characters have been born and so many beautiful stories have been brought to life. A pile of blank pages was sitting next to an even taller pile of written pages. Novels, poems, plays, film scripts, opera librettos; it seemed as if every literary genre had a place in that room and that each and every one of them would have a chance to tell its story.

Nilo’s working desk was surprisingly austere. It stood in the living room with a laptop computer on top of it and a few pens and pencils sitting next to a notebook.  It was there that we worked during four consecutive days and where we gave new life to the latest version of the libretto.

He sent me the complete libretto a week before my trip and as soon as I got it I started reading it and making notes. The first thing that struck me was the discipline and faithfulness with which Nilo had carried out the overall plan that Stephen and us laid out earlier in May. Act by act, scene by scene, Nilo had diligently followed the structure we had agreed upon in New York. One thing I noticed, however, was that in the process, Nilo’s wings had been inadvertently clipped and his prose did not soar as it did in his earlier treatment. He actually confessed to me that he had found it extremely difficult to adhere to the structure, but we both agreed that by doing so we had gained a very solid base upon which we could now build something truly significant. My task, therefore, was to make sure we brought back the magic -so to speak- by pointing out certain passages that could be extended, or by adding depth and complexity to a few characters that had not yet been fully developed.

Like Nilo, I thought the structure had to be kept almost intact, but within it, certain changes or additions could be made in order to enrich our color palette. One issue I brought to the table was that of inner struggle. I had the impression certain characters were not facing enough of a struggle when split between choices, and this, in my view, made them less real. The priest never questioned his faith; a terrorist never questioned her love for one of the hostages; and finally, a hostage hardly questioned his love for Roxane, the central character.  In real circumstances these people would be faced with such stark choices that they would at least have serious doubts and fears about the consequences that would follow. Of course Nilo had developed this inner struggle beautifully in other characters, and it is precisely because of that (and because I had been impressed by it) that I asked him to take it a step further and imbue these other characters with the same degree of doubt and uncertainty.

Another aspect we strengthened was the development of the two parallel love stories. We isolated them, studied them and reinforced the moments that lead to their falling in love. It had to feel inevitable and it had to be convincing to the audience. Nilo had carefully tread the storyline so both love stories did follow a very natural progression, but we nevertheless inserted a few words and actions here and there (even when those characters were not leading the action) that would gradually build up the attraction between them. Finally, two of the biggest changes we made occur at the beginning and the end. I am not at liberty to disclose the details, but I’ll say this: we have chosen to rely mostly on music at the beginning and heavily on action toward the end. The ending is one of the greatest challenges we are facing at the moment; as it is now, it is filled with actions but entirely devoid of words, therefore Stephen’s input will be ever so crucial and the music will have to frame it all.

Working with Nilo was really wonderful. We understand each other really well and he is truly receptive to my ideas and suggestions at all times. I had come to him full of notes and it was only on the last day, at 10pm, that I finished sharing with him my very last suggestion. He even let me change a few words myself, and this in turn forced me to give shape to the ideas that were going through my mind. But he also had a request; he asked me to write down two of the possible melodies for a couple of arias. The reason for this is that I had already been toying in my head with two melodies that seemed to want a place in the opera and Nilo wanted to listen to them. I did as he asked; in fact I wrote them down while in Miami, after our second meeting. Later, when I was back in California, he called me and asked me to reassign one of the melodies to another aria, which I did readily because he provided me with very clear reasons. This is what I call a true collaboration. Sometimes I would tell him “these words do not fit the music I have in mind for this particular moment” and at times he would tell me “this music does not fit the mood which I had conceived for this specific moment”. The more we both put our egos aside and work toward a common goal, the greater the chances for this opera to succeed.

This trip was also important for other reasons. The last time I had been to Miami was over 20 years ago, when I was a kid. My parents wanted my sister and I to have a broader vision of life by experiencing a foreign reality, so they decided to move to Miami, where the four of us lived for one year and during which I attended the Belen Jesuit Preparatory School. I have many fond memories of that city, but above all, moving abroad tested my endurance and forced me to grow up in very short time. The language barrier was difficult to overcome at first and my shyness did not help when interacting with the other kids. But I eventually managed to overcome these difficulties and excelled academically. The most important thing, however, was that I “wrote” my first composition in Miami. I put it in quotes because I didn’t actually write it (I didn’t know how to read or write music at the time) but I did compose it at the piano. I went on to compose three short pieces for piano that year; my very first attempts in composition. What could be more important in the professional life of a composer than taking the leap from playing an instrument to writing his own pieces? I don’t know why this happened while in Miami or why did the music come to me in my dreams, but I do know that it changed my life and it set me on a course from which I have never deviated. I was 12 years old when I moved back to Lima, completely determined to become a composer. And now, 21 years later, I went back to the city where what had started as a dream had become a palpable reality.

Once Nilo is done revising the libretto, we will show the result of our collaboration to Stephen, Renee and Anthony Freud and we will hold a final round of talks to give the libretto is definitive shape. Right now I am working on my cello concerto, “Lord of the Air” and I am simultaneously drafting a couple of arias and instrumental sections from the opera. Perhaps some of this music will be used later or perhaps none of it will, but I like doing this kind of preparatory work in order to lay the ground for the next 16 months or so, were I will produce the full piano vocal score.

More updates to come later this Fall!

Libretto in the works

The world premiere announcement last February at the Lyric Opera of Chicago left us all with an incredible feeling of expectation. We were mesmerized by the extensive press coverage that followed and by how fast the news spread throughout the opera world. What a relief to be able to discuss the project after a yearlong oath of silence! Now that all preparations were over, it was time to sit down and get to work.

Nilo Cruz started to work immediately on a treatment and sent it to Renee Fleming, Stephen Wadsworth, Anthony Freud and myself. We came back to him with comments and suggestions. Nilo’s text was more than just a treatment; it contained several pages of fully-fledged lyrics, outlining the personalities and idiosyncrasies of the main characters. It also helped me understand how the action would unfold, giving me an idea of the overall structure. In this sense, we are really lucky to count with Ann Patchett’s blessing. She has left us complete liberty to adapt her novel; otherwise the task of translating “Bel Canto” to the stage would be utterly impossible.

Working through email and phone calls can be really frustrating so Nilo, Stephen and I decided to get together in New York last May. Stephen arranged a wonderful space for us at the Juilliard School of Music, where we sat down for four days trying to come up with a solid frame for Nilo’s words. One of the most exciting things for me was to contrast Nilo’s and Stephen’s vision of the piece. Stephen had made a detailed list of the events that had struck him most from the novel, so we could go through it and decide which ones to take and which ones to leave out. Nilo, on the other hand, had continued to further develop his own treatment and out of it, an altogether different structure had emerged. During those four days we worked on finding common grounds and understanding each other’s needs, always aiming at creating something new and convincing.

Each one of us had something different to bring to the table. Although we were all working toward the same goal, our backgrounds couldn’t be more diverse. There you had it: a man of words, a man of images and a man of sounds. Stephen’s ideas were visually rich and had a direct relation to the spatial distribution of the characters and elements on stage. His comments were always action-driven and his ideas always challenging. Sometimes he would suggest scenes without words, where the action and the music would take over. Nilo, as a man of theater, does have a keen understanding of how to present things on stage, but his main concern was to deliver the story through words. In this sense, we encountered an almost insurmountable difficulty when it came to characters like Gen and Hosokawa. Gen, the translator, is extremely verbal and although his role can be easily contained in the novel, he threatened to become too prominent on stage. And what is worse, since he is a translator, many things would need to be said twice, slowing down the action instead of helping to move the story forward. Hosokawa, on the other hand, barely says a word throughout the novel and that posed an enormous obstacle for Nilo and for myself, while it offered enormous possibilities to Stephen. I was mostly concerned with how to bring these elements together and convey them through music. In opera, music marks the pace of the action, so the dramatic rhythm is very much at the hands of the composer. I find a great source of inspiration in Nilo’s words and great excitement in Stephen’s visions, so I am not short of material, quite the contrary, I must find a way to condense and allow these elements to coexist and develop within a musical framework.

A few weeks ago I had a phone conversation with Renee where I shared the outcome of our meeting, and she had the wonderful idea of sending me a copy of the correspondence between Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal. I’ve been reading the book and I find it incredibly enlightening and at times even amusing. What great inspiration! Their style of writing is as diverse as their personalities, and one has the impression that Hofmannsthal’s delicate phrasing is always at the brink of breaking apart against Strauss’s direct and blunt manner of expression. That they understood each other is already a miracle, but that they were able to create such a string of masterpieces is truly astounding. Perhaps these differences are what made their collaborations so richly varied. In any case, it does make for a great read and it fully reveals the inner workings along the process of creating an opera.

Our next meeting is schedule for August. Only Nilo and I will meet this time around and we will take a look at the complete libretto. We expect to have yet another meeting in September with Stephen where we plan on polishing off the details so I can finally start working on the music in November. In the meantime, I have made a point of revisiting the standard and not-so-standard opera repertoire; there is much to learn from the old and modern masters. Being confronted with the challenge of writing an opera of my own has completely changed the way I listen to it. I’ve become more analytic and critical but I’ve also become aware of the difficulties of creating such a complex artwork. Among them, expressing a character’s mood, behavior and psychology; conveying the story musically in a convincing way; eliciting a wealth of emotions on the listener, and keeping the audience alert at all times. The challenges are great but the excitement is far greater.

Until soon!

Commencement speech

About three weeks ago Professor Benjamin Brinner, Chairman of the Music Department at the University of California, Berkeley called me to his office and asked me to speak on behalf of the graduate music students at the 2012 commencement ceremony. I accepted, humbled and grateful for having the opportunity to voice my gratitude to my Berkeley family before saying good-bye.

Here is an exact transcript of the speech I gave on Sunday May 13, 2012 minus the laughs and a few improvised remarks. It was a truly memorable day for all of us, especially for all the proud mothers who were also celebrating their day.  This day will always have a special place in our hearts.
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Commencement speech

Some things in life demand a lot of effort. The people you see in front of you today have made innumerable sacrifices in order achieve the maximum academic degree that a university can confer. Some of them left their families, others had to work more than one job to support their studies, while others had to make twice the effort and work thrice as many years just because they didn’t have a faculty that we usually take for granted.  We all stand proud of our achievements and our hard-earned knowledge, and now we are ready to face the world. But we are also humbled, for the more we learn, the more we realize there is more to this world than we could ever hope to understand.

To my fellow colleagues I say, “congratulations”. It is you and only you who know the true value and meaning of the degree that this university rightfully bestows upon you on this memorable day. To our dear professors I say “thank you”, for performing daily that selfless and commendable act called teaching. And to the parents, relatives and loved ones of those whom I speak for, I say, “be proud”, because none of us would be here if it weren’t for you. You told us to keep going when we wanted to give up, you came to our aid when we felt alone and helpless, and you didn’t care if our education meant material discomfort for you, all you wanted for us was to succeed. So be proud because together we made it.

Wherever we go, we will carry the name of this University in our hearts and minds.  This chapter of our lives is coming to a close today and this day marks the end of a journey and the beginning of a new path. Now is the time to pursue our dreams. Do not be discouraged by such mundane concerns as the state of the economy or the difficulty of landing a job. Focus instead on your goals and do not stop until you reach them.  Do justice to yourself; do not compromise. Life is too short to spend it on things we don’t really want to do. Everyone will try to bring you down to earth, I say, keep dreaming.

In the moments of greatest doubt I held steadfast to my dreams. When I was told my compositions were lacking in technique, I responded by studying harmony, counterpoint and orchestration. When one of my schoolteachers tried to persuade my parents to stop me from wasting my intellect in music and put it to use instead in something more practical, I responded by applying to the Music Conservatory. When I was told that the Sibelius Academy in Finland was only meant for Europeans because, as a Latin American, I was ill-prepared to confront the excruciatingly difficult entrance examinations, I responded by becoming the first Latin American composer to be admitted to that institution. And it is that conviction that has empowered me during these past five years at Berkeley, all the way to this commencement ceremony where I am honored to speak to you.

Coming to Berkeley is one of the best decisions I have made in my life. A chain of events led me to apply here. It all started with me reading the last volume of Richard Taruskin’s “Oxford History of Western Music”, but I only knew this was the right place for me after I talked to Ed Campion, a man for whom I feel nothing but gratitude, respect and admiration. Here I have found true support and interest in my work and a great many opportunities have opened up ever since. In the past few years my music has been performed by major orchestras all across the United States. And after my graduation a lot of work is waiting for me. Renee Fleming and the Lyric Opera of Chicago have commissioned me a full-length opera to be premiered during their 2015-2016 season.  I hope to see some of you then.

I want to conclude by thanking the most important people in my life, my parents Javier and Maria Elena, who are not here with me today, but who are already celebrating in my native city, Lima. My love goes to my sister Jessica, who is also obtaining her PhD in Biology from the University of Helsinki just a few weeks from now. And finally, my partner Heleno, a true music lover and my number one fan.

On behalf of the graduate students of the music department I want to thank you all for being here and sharing this very special moment with us. Thank you
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Acknowledgements:

To Melissa, Jim, Babs and Lisa: thank you for being there every time I needed your advice and for your invaluable help all the way to the very last detail. Simply put, I couldn’t have survived without you! To Ed, Cindy, Franck, David Milnes and David Wessel, I thank you for all the things I’ve learned from you throughout these years. You are an inspiration to me. To David Pereira and Karen: thanks for sharing your passion for this wonderful art called teaching, so that I could also share my knowledge with others. I will miss you all dearly.