Premiering Soon: Kindred Spirits!
I am so excited to formally announce the premiere of Kindred Spirits, my new multimovement concerto for trumpet and wind ensemble - co-commissioned by trumpet player Will Koehler and Pittsburg State University Wind Ensemble conductor Andrew Chybowski.
Will and I know each other from Indiana University - though this piece was our first time ever working together! When we decided to take this project on together, we knew we wanted to craft a work around something that would showcase both the power and delicacy of Will’s playing and the theatrical, colorful aspects of my writing. We soon discovered we had a shared interest in mythology and decided to pursue a piece about mythological creatures.
While we both had ideas for creatures that could make great pieces, I soon became enamored with the Moon Rabbit. I found that cultures throughout time and across the globe have seemed to note the image of a rabbit on the face of the moon. Though they all have different explanations for how it came to be there, I found it rather beautiful that so many different types of people had seen the shadows on the moon’s surface the same way. I became interested in writing about more creatures which had parallels across the globe—eventually settling on the Ahuixotl, the Moon Rabbit, and the Thunderbird.
Will and I planned to make a trumpet and piano version first, but had always envisioned this work as a large ensemble showcase piece. Fortunately, we both knew Andrew! Andrew had already conducted one of my most substantial works to date (The Noise - a 20-minute work for wind ensemble with two vocalists), and I was thrilled when he agreed to support the premiere of a fully-orchestrated version of this work.
The Ahuixotl is a demonic water creature, similar to a dog; it resides in fresh water sources, such as lakes, and has a claw-like tail that snatches unsuspecting swimmers from the surface. In the piece, this movement begins the work—the ensemble ripping up and down in hocketing runs until cresting into the arrival of the soloist. The flowing, smooth lines soon give way to a prowling, malicious ostinato in the lower voices as the soloist growls and leaps in snarling lines and aggressive rips. The ensemble jolts and pounds throughout, drastically changing between flowing lines and harsh clusters. This challenging opening provides the soloist with the ability to showcase their more aggressive tone, rhythmic accuracy, and almost theatrically-punchy articulations. Needless to say it was a blast to write and I’m so excited to hear how it all comes together in the coming weeks as we prepare for the premiere!
The Moon Rabbit was definitely the most pervasive throughout the world—China, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, throughout both of the Americas, India, Thailand, and more. I was particularly inspired by the Cree version, in which a rabbit wishes to go the moon and rides the back of a crane; the crane stretches its legs, and the rabbit digs its paws into the crane’s head to hold on. The rabbits claws dig into the crane’s head, causing it to bleed, but they make it to the moon (explaining both the rabbit in the moon as well as why cranes’ heads are red). Regardless of how the rabbit gets up there, nearly all of the moon rabbit legends agree that it will remain there forever. Writing this movement was one of the only times I had a composer moment like they show in the movies—I got and idea and immediately ran to the piano and wrote pretty much the entire piece in one sitting. The winds create an ebbing but ultimately static ceiling over a slow, lyrical ostinato in the bass voices. The soloist slowly climbs up the instrument, showcasing baroque-like turns and ornamentations of a simple line. The work builds to a climactic ensemble ascent with a series of ascending trills, culminating in a powerful, triumphant arrival. The ensemble and soloist work their way back down to the lower registers, calming further until the woodwind ceiling from the opening returns—the ensemble evaporating into the night.
The last movement, inspired the Thunderbird, is most commonly known in the US as hailing from North American tribes (particularly Algonquian tribes), though parallels exist in South African, Greek, and Māori traditions as well. The Thunderbird serves both as a protector of the innocent as well as the judge, jury, and executioner of the wicked. In this final movement, the ensemble begins simply, starting first as drops of rain and working itself into a stormy-but-triumphant arrival of the soloist with a heroic theme. The soloist carries forward a repeated note gesture from the previous movement into a new context—now on the hunt. In the slow section of this movement, the soloist is challenged with showcasing incredible control as long notes swell rhythmically between dynamic extremes. The ensemble fades away, making space for the soloist to descend to their low register in silence before starting a short cadenza. The ensemble explodes upon arrival, soaring and sweeping into the final moments of the piece.
Having a premiere delayed for several years is such a unique experience; the excitement of the work FINALLY being shared with others, the satisfaction that all those months of long nights and virtual rehearsals have helped to make this happen—but also the understanding that, as so much time has past, I am a different music-maker than when I wrote this piece. By no means do I feel the work is “bad” or “immature,” but it has been an interesting challenge to get back into the brain of 2019 Kim. Why did I do this here? Is that articulation still what I want? Have I learned a better way to notate my intentions? Balancing both 1) the hard work of going back in and adding some polish to this piece with 2) the acceptance that this piece is from a different composer (not necessarily a worse one, mind you!) has been an interesting challenge. The distance I have from this piece is both a hurdle and an asset, and it’s been a great way to learn more about how much I’ve grown—and in what directions!—since before the pandemic. I’m so excited for rehearsals to begin next week, and can’t wait to hear this piece IN PERSON in just a few weeks from now!
Next week: What’s happening with New Music Cookbook, a new work for trumpet and piano inspired by beer, plus adventures in The Nature!
