Michael Cooke

In crafting music that speaks from the heart, I often reflect on the words of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In a letter to his father dated November 8, 1777, Mozart wrote:

I cannot write poetically, for I am no poet.
I cannot artfully arrange my phrases so as to give light and shade.
Neither am I a painter;
Nor can I even express my thoughts by gesture and pantomime, for I am no dancer.
But I can do so in sounds.
I am a musician.

This profound declaration inspired me to create a collection of pieces I call Love Letters. Each piece is a musical expression lasting approximately 3-5 minutes, dedicated to someone dear to me. These compositions are my way of conveying emotions and memories that words alone cannot capture.

This love letter was composed for my brother’s wedding, with the intention of celebrating their union through music. The introduction and closing sections reference the traditional wedding march, while two distinct themes represent George and Bonnie. In the recapitulation, these themes intertwine, symbolizing the unity of their marriage.

At the time, I was still in music school, which made it easy to gather friends to record the piece. My father contributed by arranging a professional printing of the score and parts, including a beautiful leather-bound edition crafted by a team from his office. He later mentioned that the team enjoyed the project because it was a refreshing change from their usual work of creating presentations.

Unfortunately, the gift didn’t seem to be well-received by the couple. They appeared somewhat annoyed during the rehearsal dinner when I played the recording for them. Sadly, the recording itself has since been lost, and I’ve often wondered if they kept it or know where it is.

Later events would cast a shadow on this memory, as my brother embezzled $120,000 from my parents estate revealing his true character. Despite this, the piece remains an important part of my musical journey, representing a hopeful and celebratory moment in time.

This piece holds a special place in my heart, as it sparked the Love Letters collection, a series exploring personal and emotional connections through music, which continues with each composition I add to it. This idea was inspired by a card I received from my mother, which included this quote from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. In a letter to his father dated November 8, 1777, Mozart wrote:

I cannot write poetically, for I am no poet.
I cannot artfully arrange my phrases so as to give light and shade.
Neither am I a painter;
Nor can I even express my thoughts by gesture and pantomime, for I am no dancer.
But I can do so in sounds.
I am a musician.

As someone who is dyslexic and has always struggled with writing, this quote resonated deeply with me. Music has always been my preferred way to express myself, and this composition uniquely captures my emotions.

A Love Letter: “Dear Mom” was written for my mom, Connie Cooke, as a heartfelt gift for her birthday or Christmas in 1989. In many ways, it felt like the musical equivalent of a football player saying “Hi Mom” on TV.

The piece was composed for a college music theory class, which explains its Romantic-style tonality. It also marked the beginning of my exploration of using the voice as an instrument, rather than as a medium for traditional singing with words and story. The vocalist here is tasked with creating expressive sounds rather than conveying lyrics, a technique I later expanded on in Music for Humans.

A friend of mine from the class performed and recorded the piece for me, singing and playing the piano with heartfelt precision. Her interpretation brought a warmth and intimacy to the music, enhancing its emotional depth and personal connection. Unfortunately, that recording has since been lost, but the memory of its creation and performance remains a cherished part of my musical journey.