Musical resonance is complex and beautiful to me. I hear the aggregate resultant of the sound emanating from the love and labor of each musician on stage, the hours of practice, and, in the case of listening to a premier of my own music, the energy of a future event contemplated alone in my studio, realized and resonating in an acoustic space that is shaped not only the architecture of the performance hall, but also the physical body and the psychic empathy of the audience. It might sound strange, but I often “hear” empathy — maybe I will it so, since I believe one of the main functions of art is to curate empathy. But it takes risk and hard work. And trust.

I am lucky that for most of my professional musical life I have had a collaborator and friend I could trust. His name is Greg Oakes. Greg is one of the world’s great clarinet virtuosos and we have collaborated now for close to twenty years. This piece pays tribute to some of our past collaborations by revisiting some of the techniques that I had incorporated into past pieces I had written for him (e.g. the copious microtonal alternate fingerings on G — “resonance” is also a presence of history in the now). The intricacies of rhythm and the extreme endurance that the solo part requires are further aspects of trust — yes, I know it’s damn hard, but I know Greg is a badass and can do it, so I let my musical imagination run unshackled and there it is, raw and unfiltered. That trust also allowed me to develop newer aspects in my music too — the cadenza featuring multiphonic clarinet trills accompanied only by pitched metallophones is an example. Tonight, my trust and indebtedness also extends to my newest collaborators: Michael Golemo, the director of the Iowa State University Wind Ensemble, and each intrepid and brave member of the ensemble. Thank you! I know this is a difficult piece. But because of your hard work, we, together, can and will go to a resonant space yet unheard in the world, a rapt afterness.

“We live in a dim inkling or a rapt afterness,
But something was here...”

—Racoon Time by Rodney Jones

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