Officially, that is, as part of my college education.

So far, my composition tutor likes my work, says it’s sophisticated and coming along nicely. Phew.

But after an intense writing session when I step back and listen the whole way through, I wonder, “Is this what’s in my soul?” And then I decide, no, it isn’t, and I haven’t the faintest idea what is.

Some music is just supposed to get stuck in your head (or sell you a mattress),  but some music is actually supposed to speak to you on a deep level (the Moon soundtrack I bought recently is a great example of this). I’d like to think I’m capable of producing the latter, but only time will tell. At this stage I’ve whittled composition down to such an intellectual, almost mathematical activity that I often forget to consider the emotional impact of whatever gesture it is I am meticulously assembling.

Part of the “problem” (if it can be called that, everyone else who hears my stuff seems satisfied) might be that I compose directly on the computer with a MIDI keyboard and a digital score editor. Perhaps if I sat down with a piano, pencil and paper, the cold exacting mathematical nature of the computer would not come through in the way I approach the music. That’s never been the case back when I was recording/producing, though, when the nature of working on the computer did not interfere the truth of the sound.

Equally possible is that this sort of “nice but what does it mean” music is perfectly adequate for learning all the techniques of creating listenable and interesting work, and that emotional expression comes later. Let’s go with that one. While the pieces I’ve been working on for weeks and weeks at this point seem to have no prevailing emotional direction, my Music Tech projects (which I do in a single afternoon usually) definitely reflect my mood or thoughts that day. Maybe the ability to expand that sort of acuity into longer pieces over more time is just something you grow into.