One of the pieces is described as
a radical, searing journey exploring man’s primitive connection with God.which is the sort of presumption we seem to expect from our most honored composers. We must want them to deal with lofty subject matter in their music. Maybe we assume that theology somehow gives music a purpose. Or maybe composing music gives insight into the unknowable. I've always felt there are many similarities between music concerts and church services.
Rather than confront my dislike and distrust of such posturing I decided to spend the time of the concert writing a little of my own music. So I hiked up to Starbucks just before 8 and returned just before 10 carrying 30 seconds of brand new music.
Copyright (c) December 3, 2007 David Ocker - exactly 30 seconds.
I couldn't think of a title. Nor could I find a found title from any overheard conversation. So I asked one of the baristas to pick a title without listening to the music. It happens that the person I asked, Lindsay Kraft, is the granddaughter of composer William Kraft (who had conducted the Stravinsky on the very concert I skipped.) I think Lindsay chose well.
There's nothing deep about The Medallion - it's just a small obscure view of where my head was at musically between 8 and 10 p.m. on Monday December 3, 2007. An abstraction of obscurity.
Enjoy it the way you would biting into a hot chili pepper or seeing a beam of bright sunlight on a dead flower or a brief hacking cough you can't control or feeling a cold unexpected burst of wind when you're not wearing a coat. In other words, a short moment of discomfort. Those are probably the best moments to reflect on your own primitive connections to God -- assuming she even exists of course.
The pictures are from my wanderings around the Stanford University main quad last Friday. First I was struck by the ornate storm drain cover. Then I noticed that particular design was used repeatedly. It is sort of medallion like.
Medallion Tags: 30 Second Spots. . . David Ocker. . . Monday Evening Concerts