simon hutchinson

There are always more things to do than there is time during summer vacations.

I’m spending this summer, as I often do, doing intensive study of shamisen and shakuhachi in Japan. This is a rather relaxing change from university classes, and it’s fun to pretend to be a proper performer for a few months every year.

This year, I’m paying special attention to, for lack of better word, my “groove” on the shamisen. I have no concrete results/conclusions yet, but I believe I have to fundamentally change the way I’m processing rhythm while playing. An analog that comes to mind is the concept of “swing” in Jazz (beyond just two-eighths = triplet-quarter/triplet-eighth), or possibly “the pocket” in Funk.

Additionally, I’ve been taking some time to wrap up some unfinished compositions, start some new ones, and also getting out to make some field recordings (mostly of insects) for some projects when I get back into the studio.

There’s still plenty of time, and still plenty to do.

Koryphaios (2010)

For Alto Flute and Kyma Sound Processing Environment

Tara Schwab, Alto Flute

Early on in composing this piece, when experimenting with various electronic effects, I stumbled on one that conjured up for me a Greek chorus performing in an outdoor amphitheater. Playing with this sound, I became more and more excited about the idea of enabling a soloist to control an ensemble through just the sound of his or her performance. The title of this piece, “koryphaios” is a reference to the leader of a Greek chorus, as Tara’s flute sound directs the electronic chorus.

This is a live recording of a performance May 2nd.

Long Distance (2010)

Last month, on the 31st, french hornist John Dodge performed a recital in Eugene of all new works by Oregon Composers. This performance included the premiere of my brass trio “Long Distance.”

Growing up as a first-generation immigrant to the US, all of my relatives other than my nuclear family were overseas. Spending a lot of time on the phone long distance became a matter of course, talking with aunts, uncles, and grandparents through a grainy, imperfect connection.

Perhaps fittingly, now, during our engagement, my fiancée is overseas, and though we are grateful for the technology, our daily conversations on Skype often lack something and lead to miscommunications.

The whole recital was excellent, and if you’re interested in hearing more, the complete recording is (or will be) available for purchase here.

At John’s request I have deleted the links to the mp3 here, since the whole recital is now available on iTunes

Requiem (2010)

Here is more of the bounty from the concerts earlier this month. Normally I would gush about how wonderful my performers were (which they always are), but, in this case, I was the performer.

And I was fantastic.

I performed this piece, “Requiem,” for shamisen and live electronics, at the Future Music Oregon concert on May 8th. This is the studio version of that piece, as sometimes live recordings of electronic pieces can be tricky.

This piece, for shamisen and live electronics, is dedicated to my friend, Kawamura Shinyu. Shinyu was the first person I met when I arrived in Japan, and it was through him that I came to study the shamisen. Sadly, Shinyu also grappled with bipolar disorder, and took his own life during one of his depressive episodes. Through this piece, I hope to celebrate his life and express my gratitude for his endless kindness, hospitality, and generosity to me.

Umagata (2010)

I’ve just gotten a recording of the fantastic performance of my piece Umagata from earlier this month. Sarah Ogmundson (flute) and Seth Stewart (guitar), played this piece with spirit and verve, making the piece really come to life.

This piece also had a wonderful performance at its premiere at Bates College, March 25, by Nicole Rabata (flute) and Miles Isacke (guitar) who both helped me in making some edits to the piece. I haven’t, however, received a recording of that performance yet.

From the original program notes:

While thinking about a composition to complete the concert this evening, I originally planned to write a large piece, enlisting all of our instrumentalists. Recently, however, I have been particularly inspired by the melody of the Northern Japanese folk song, Nanbu Umagata Bushi, which depicts a leisurely ride on horseback, enjoying the natural scenery of Iwate Prefecture. I hope this last piece, a re-imagining of that song, will be a dulcet conclusion to this program.

I’ve finally gotten a chance to post the Mp3s from the TaiHei Ensemble “New Sounds of Korea” Concert that was on May 5th. For this concert we worked with two performers from Korea, Yusun Kim on gayageum and Hyerim Choi on ajaeng. I had the opportunity to work with both of them on this project, on two separate pieces, and you can hear the wonderful results on the TaiHei Ensemble Media Page.

I have a number of other unsorted, unedited audio files on my computer desktop right now from a variety of different concerts that occurred in the past two weeks, and I’m hoping to have a chance to post them here little by little (as I get them sorted and edited). So please check back soon!

This academic year has been rich with opportunities for writing vocal music. In addition to the two choral pieces I wrote for Fall quarter, I also had the opportunity of writing two art songs, one for a collaboration with Nicolas Isherwood’s vocal studio, and one for another collaboration during a residency with Lucy Shelton.

Of course this composition process lead to a lot of singing to myself in a a variety of inappropriate locations, but that’s not really anything new for me. Since September, I’ve learned quite a bit about writing for the voice, and I’ve found I need to direct my attention to a lot of factors that I took for granted, such as the idea of rhythmic placement of consonant sounds.

Regardless, it’s been a great experience, and here’s what it sounded like:

Sea Lily
Katherine Price, Soprano

Text by H.D.

Reed,
slashed and torn
but doubly rich–
such great heads as yours
drift upon temple-steps,
but you are shattered
in the wind.

Myrtle-bark
is flecked from you,
scales are dashed
from your stem,
sand cuts your petal,
furrows it with hard edge,
like flint
on a bright stone.

Yet though the whole wind
slash at your bark,
you are lifted up,
aye–though it hiss
to cover you with froth.

On a March Day
Annie Reser, Soprano; Ben Krause, Piano.

Text by Sara Teasdale

Here in the teeth of this triumphant wind
That shakes the naked shadows on the ground,
Making a key-board of the earth to strike
From clattering tree and hedge a separate sound,

Bear witness for me that I loved my life,
All things that hurt me and all things that healed,
And that I swore it this day in March,
Here at the edge of this new-broken field.

You only knew me, tell them I was glad
For every hour since my hour of birth,
And that I ceased to fear, as once I feared,
The last complete reunion with the earth.