Epic of Gilgamesh

Tablet 11 ("Utnapishtim tells the story of the Flood")

Cuneiform writing on stone, 7th Century BC

Gilgamesh

The giant Humbaba, from the Epic of Gilgamesh

Terracotta mask, c. 1800-1600 BC

And speaking of Permanence...

Head of a King from Nineveh,

c. 2340-2284 BC
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Been reading several different translations of Gilgamesh, because I like to teach the poem in my literature classes whenever possible.  And every time I am struck by the way students react to it:  they forget that the earliest versions of it are 4000 years old and they treat it like a completely contemporary story.  Despite the alien names and the genuine remoteness of the world brought to life by the poem, the experiences of Gilgamesh and Enkidu really resonate, and it becomes a poem about us, right now. 

I guess however much the world changes, human nature doesn't.

A Song for the Dying

by Kathleen

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 Music is one of those arts that has been made highly schizophrenic by the digital age:  witness this exploration of composing music for the theater.  The music and sounds in this case are created electronically and are often meant to mimic acoustic orchestral instruments, but they are intended not as underscoring for film or something similarly static, but for live theatrical performances, which as we all know are never precisely the same from moment to moment.  So what you have here is an interesting example of digital culture being created and applied in order to enhance material culture, written by a composer with extensive experience in both realms.  Here's what she had to say about herself:  

"Kathleen Dooley is a musician, singer, composer, playwright, and recording artist.  She has been involved with music for theater productions or video productions for over twenty years.  Musical contributions have included:  The Glass Menagerie, Painting Churches, A Streetcar Named Desire, Frankenstein, Night of the Living Dead: The Musical, Misery, Dracula, Sweeney Todd, The Cat and the Canary, While You Were Out, The Good Doctor, and 10 Rue De L’Amore.  She has also occasionally performed duties as a vocal coach or musical director for various choirs, ensembles or actors in theater or corporate productions.  She likes to work with local artists to provide arrangements or music for their albums.  Most recently, she co-wrote the title track with Tracylyn Lendi for her country rock album, Close the Door.  She is currently also in an acoustic trio, Acoustic Alternatives, which plays regularly in the Chicago suburbs.  She plays piano, keyboard, guitar, conga drums, harmonica, and has performed as a solo artist since the age of fourteen."

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One of the strange and unusual skills I have had to tap into over the years as a composer is to write something to emulate dying or creation on stage.  You might think this to be a pretty simple task – find some angelic instruments, throw in a little repetitive wind chime, and call it a day.  However, it has never been that easy of a decision for me.  If one was to try to imagine what the birth of a being would sound like, would it take a spiritual tone or more of a science-fiction Frankenstein fantasy?  Would the first movements of a now ensouled have the sounds of gears starting up for the first time, or would it rather take on the sound of breaking rock from a shift in the earth’s plates?  Would and should all of this just start in silence followed by a new baby’s cry piercing the air with a shrill scream of terror?

All of this went through my mind when attempting to find a way to underscore an 8 minute scene in the play, Golem by David Morris being produced at The Riverfront Playhouse.  The script tells the story of an alchemist Rabbi in the 1400’s who is obsessed by the mystery of life and is frustrated by many failed attempts to create it.   As the stars and planets align, he is visited by a mysterious stranger who holds the knowledge for the mystic rituals allowing the Rabbi to finally create a life;  to create a Golem.  

One of my tasks in all of this was to underscore that eerie scene as he performs the ritual to create the man of clay into a living breathing being.   The director/playwright described to me something that included noise, moaning, and that would build to the grand conclusion.  

My hope when composing music and effects for a stage show is that the cues be more than vehicles to get the actors in and out of scenes.  I’m always striving to create another character with the music so that the audience has an extra little insight for what they have seen or are about to see in the unfolding story.  The greatest compliment I ever received on a score was actually overheard at a show from a random audience member at a thriller for which I’d composed a score.  He remarked at intermission that he kept getting tense at the beginning of scenes.  He couldn’t understand it since he knew the story, he knew that there was no significant action happening right away, and there were no actors on stage doing anything of significance.  He then realized that it was due to the pulsating background music.  

That has set the bar for me with musical scores.  If the scene is tense, so must the music be.  If the actors must fall in love, they must do it with a beautiful melody.  If there is a subtle punch line that must be reiterated, the music must comply.  This may all seem obvious, but not as easy as it may sound.  As a musician and an artist desperately wanting to be liked at all times, much like many of my artistic friends, it is my first instinct to do something that people will like and appreciate with applause.  “Oh, how lovely that was and you were a GENIUS to create that out of thin air!  Bravo! Bravo!”  Similarly, it is often my first urge to write a score that will appeal to the audience musically first and match the scenes second.  However, this never works – no matter how many times I fall into that trap – as I first did with Golem.  

I went with my comfort zone and not with the vision of the play.  I presented a wonderfully tense but melodic five minute piece of orchestra music only to be met with a negative response from the director.  As  a matter of fact, it was the only piece he took notice of because it was so very wrong.  I instantly realized what I’d done and agreed to rerecord a more appropriate piece.  When I went back into the studio, I concocted the most wonderfully uncomfortable series of noises that included a synthesized wind chime, an electronic voice growling low, simulated thunder, my voice through three different filters, and the random nonsensical sinister whispers to name a few.  Simply put, it did NOT have a good beat, NOR would you dance to it, but if you wanted to know what it sounds like to open the gates of hell, I suspect this is it.   

The creation of this single piece suddenly opened up the inspiration I needed to complete the rest of the score.  Every scene lead in and underscore either guides the audience to this mystical moment, or hurdles the observer into a darker and deeper world as a result of it.  

I have discovered over the years that I really have to let go of my artistic ego and sense of writing those conclusive endings that bring me comfort in order to capture the director’s vision and move the story along.  In this case, I stepped out of that comfort zone by choosing instruments that I am not particularly fond of:  the oboe, the harpsichord, etc.  They were the best pitch, and tonal quality to match the writing style of the show and the performances that are emerging from the actors.  

So, there you go.  I thought I’d just put together a little note describing the evolution of this particular musical score.  Perhaps you are now thinking of what your birth or death might sound like if it were acted out on stage, eh?  Oh, come on, sure you are…