Michael Cooke

All my plans for the last two weeks to work on my 4th symphony went up in smoke. I haven’t touched it.

I knew that preparing my orchestra for our May concert would cut into my composing time, but I didn’t anticipate just how much. Unfortunately, two composers dropped out at the last minute—one the week of the deadline, the other two weeks after. That put our concert lineup in serious jeopardy. To make matters worse, the backup piece we received from another composer didn’t match our ensemble’s instrumentation.

To keep the concert afloat (and the budget balanced), I dug into my catalog and pulled out a piece we performed about ten years ago: Triangles—one of my guided improvisation works.

This piece uses time-based sections instead of traditional measures and beats, a structure similar to another piece already programmed. I chose Triangles because it’s relatively forgiving—perfect when players only have a few weeks with the parts—and it weaves mistakes more gently into the overall texture.

However, Triangles had been sitting untouched for a decade. Luckily, I still had PDFs of the parts, but I remembered that the original instructions were a bit confusing even back then. And since our orchestra now has a lot of new members who aren’t familiar with this style, I needed to update the materials to make it easier to understand.

Clarifying the Instructions

One of the biggest sticking points was the relationship between “base notes” and “satellite notes.” In the piece, you begin on a base note, move to a satellite note, and return to a base before shifting again. This creates floating, interlocking melodies that emphasize specific intervals—something that’s been effective in other works I’ve written.

I rewrote the instructions to make this concept clearer and discussed them with several players to see if the revisions helped. Some still found it confusing at first, so I re-explained it individually. I’m hoping with some rehearsal and the new instructions, it will click more naturally.

Finishing Old Business

While revisiting Triangles, I discovered a few more loose ends.

• The original version lacked a glockenspiel part because we didn’t have a glockenspiel player available at the premiere. I had simply left that part unfinished. This time, I completed it properly.
• Several PDFs were missing critical solid crescendo–decrescendo markings. I’m not sure why, but I recreated them to match my original intent.
  

• I also noticed that the second section of the piece was longer than I intended it due to a mistake. I didn’t fix it yet (correcting it now would be too disruptive for the upcoming performance), but when I eventually migrate Triangles to Dorico, I’ll fix the section timings properly.

To help the conductor and ensemble practice, I made a video that handles the countdown timings for each section. Since Triangles doesn’t rely on a traditional conductor beat-by-beat, the video will help keep everyone synchronized and change at the proper timings. I also printed and mailed off a full score, among the other logistical details that ate up time.

Perspective on Lost Time

In reality, I shouldn’t be frustrated. I gained another opportunity to have one of my pieces performed—and that’s always the larger goal. Still, it’s a reminder that even the best-laid plans can get completely reshaped when unexpected challenges—and unexpected opportunities—drop into your lap.

My fourth symphony will have to wait just a little longer. But at least Triangles is getting a second life, and I’m excited to hear it again with fresh ears.

After an adventurous backpacking trip with the family to the Channel Islands for spring break, I’ve returned to work on the fourth movement of my Symphony No. 4. This movement has been sitting dormant for a while—since 2019, in fact—when I first announced that it would be a fusion of Beethoven’s Eroica symphony finale and the stylistic fingerprints of Hindemith. But as I’ve resumed sketching and revisiting old notes, I’m starting to hear echoes of Lutosławski and even Ruggles in there too, likely because he left a mark on the first movement of the symphony.

Reexamining the Theme

Since this final movement is a theme and variations, I decided to revisit my earlier drafts of the theme before writing any further. Beethoven reused this theme in several works—notably Fünfzehn Variationen (15 Variations), Op. 35, and again in the finale of his ballet, Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus (The Creatures of Prometheus), Op. 43.

Fünfzehn Variationen

Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus - Finale

He famously reworked it yet again in the Eroica. That kind of reuse tells you something: this is a powerful, flexible theme.

Symphony No. 3, "Eroica", 4th movement

So before diving into the structure of the movement, I needed to make sure my own version of the theme was equally strong.

My earlier sketches focused on the bass line, which plays a foundational role in Beethoven’s variations and ends similarly to the theme I’d already written into the first movement of my own symphony. That continuity was intentional. It’s part of the long-range planning I had done back when this symphony was first taking shape. I felt pretty confident in those notes, which is why I actually started drafting the first section of the movement just before our trip. But right before we left, I realized I needed to flesh out the full theme properly before continuing—so I hit pause.

Hindemith, Quartal Voicings, and a Touch of Jazz

The treble line of the theme was meant to evoke Hindemith’s melodic style. I’ve always admired how his melodies can be surprising and twisty while still feeling grounded in tonality. Some of his quartal harmonies remind me of McCoy Tyner’s jazz voicings—another influence I find incredibly rich.

In fact, Hindemith was one of the first ingredients I knew I wanted for this movement, long before I chose the Beethoven finale as a formal model. And choosing that particular Beethoven movement made sense, not just because of the form, but because of the fugue possibilities—Hindemith adored fugues. The idea clicked. Add in a few textures that feel reminiscent of Lutosławski’s Symphony No. 3 (one of my all-time favorite works), and you can see where this is heading.

There’s also the rhythmic link: the five-note rhythmic theme I’ve been threading through the entire symphony needed to appear here too. Fortunately, this thematic material lends itself nicely to that kind of integration.

Refining the Theme

Back to the present: once I sat down with my earlier draft, I developed a new treble melody—one that hints at Beethoven’s original but steers more toward Hindemith while also echoing the Ruggles-like theme from my first movement. After several revisions, I landed on something that finally felt right. This, of course, meant updating the bass line to match—but I’m glad I caught it before moving further.

I went back, made the necessary adjustments to what I had already written, and then moved forward quickly, getting ideas down in Dorico. (I use notation software like it’s paper—especially when working on pieces that don’t require more modern notational tricks. That approach has served me well since the ’80s.)

Following Beethoven’s structure, I let the form guide me: if he used the bass line as the basis for a variation, I did too, and I kept the lengths of variations roughly proportional. I didn’t try to perfect every idea right away. Instead, I marked sections to revisit later and let myself keep writing. I try not to be too critical at this stage, and not so rigid that I miss the opportunity for unexpected ideas to appear and grow—something I always encourage composers to allow in their own process. Some of my favorite moments come from those surprises, emerging better than anything I originally planned.

Now I’m about two minutes into the piece, and I’m about to introduce the treble melody for the first time. The momentum is strong, and I’m trying to ride that wave.

Balancing Work and Music

Of course, composing is just one part of the puzzle. I’ve also got performance commitments and I’m busy preparing my orchestra for its spring concert in May. Add in the usual tasks (like filing taxes), and my days are full. Still, I’m doing my best to maintain this creative groove and move the symphony forward.

With any luck, I’ll be able to keep up the pace and have more to share with you soon. I’m excited to finally be giving this symphony the attention it deserves, and I hope to wrap up this movement—and the symphony itself—by summer’s end.

Stay tuned.

It’s been a busy stretch—so much so that I haven’t had time to sit down and actually document everything I’ve been working on. Since my last post, I’ve made substantial progress across several projects, and the momentum is finally building toward something bigger.

Circle-Music Updates

I previously shared that I was working on two new solo circle-music pieces, one for bassoon and one for alto saxophone. I now have good drafts of both. While I haven’t declared them fully finished yet, they’re in solid shape. I’m holding off on final decisions until I’ve had a chance to perform and record them. Sometimes a piece reveals its needs only after it’s been played out loud.

I also began work on the next solo piece, intended for either bass clarinet or clarinet, but I’ve put it aside for now. My primary concern is that my big project for the year—completing the fourth movement of my Fourth Symphony—is starting to fall behind schedule. If I want to premiere it this fall, I need to stay focused.

Setbacks and Score Migration

On top of that, life added a few speed bumps. My daughter was home sick for a week, which made it impossible to play music in the house. So I shifted gears and took the opportunity to move more of my back catalog from Finale to Dorico.

As part of that process—and to prepare for importing the symphony—I first moved over two complex works: an early orchestral piece with vocalists, and a seven-movement chamber trio for violin, bassoon, and piano. These gave me a chance to learn more about how Dorico handles flows, which was important groundwork for tackling the symphony.

I’ve already released a video about the orchestral work and plan to do one for the trio soon. Then, armed with those lessons, I began migrating my Fourth Symphony “Deconstructing Beethoven”. While it went smoother than expected, thanks to what I’d learned, I still ran into some odd issues. The most frustrating one so far has been a condensing bug when switching clarinet parts from B-flat to A. I’ll probably make a video on that too—it’s niche, but someone out there will need it.

As of now, I’ve got about 33% of my catalog moved over to Dorico. That’s encouraging progress, though I’ve yet to face some of the trickier scores—pieces with unusual notation that Dorico doesn’t handle very well.

Looking Ahead: Symphony No. 4 Resumes

The real highlight of the month is this: I’ve finally returned to writing the fourth movement of my Fourth Symphony. I had put it off for years after pandemic cancellations derailed the performance plans for the last movement. But now it looks like I’ll have an opportunity to premiere it this fall—assuming I finish in time.

Even better, the Beethoven Society still seems interested in hosting a talk about the symphony once it’s done, which gives me one more reason to get it across the finish line.

This week, I dusted off my old notes, set up the framework in Dorico, and drafted the first 20 measures. I’ll probably revisit the melody before going too much further, but it’s good to be back in the mindset. After spring break, I plan to dive in fully and, ideally, finish the movement before summer ends.

This will be my main focus for the next few months, though I hope to continue writing smaller solo works on the side when I need a break.

More soon.

January was a packed month, with several trips out of town and Chinese New Year celebrations keeping me busy. Despite that, I made solid progress on my ongoing projects, finalizing the transition of the Love Letters collection to Dorico by moving the last two compositions, G.A.C. for Orchestra and Minerva’s Dance, while also making minor touch-ups to pieces I had transferred in December.

Both G.A.C. for Orchestra and Minerva’s Dance received updates as well. The original performance of G.A.C. lacked second violins, so I added them back into this new version. For Minerva’s Dance, I transcribed an optional soprano saxophone solo from the original piece that had been missing from the Finale version and adjusted a few key signatures. While the process of moving music into Dorico continues to present challenges, I’m slowly ironing out the issues. I even created a video documenting some of the problems I encountered while transferring Minerva’s Dance.

New Circle-Music for Bassoon

Alongside these score migrations, I started work on two new solo circle-music pieces—one for alto saxophone and another for bassoon. The alto saxophone piece is still in the early experimental stages, with only rough notes completed. However, the bassoon piece is much further along.

This composition heavily incorporates multiphonics, a technique the bassoon handles beautifully and one I enjoy playing. I also have a particular fondness for the sound of low A♭ on the bassoon, so I knew that note had to be a central element in the piece.

Through extended improvisation sessions, I developed the core concepts: triplet-based (groups of three) rhythms, an emphasis on intervals of a third (minor and major), and the careful selection of multiphonics to ensure the best harmonic blend.

Identifying all the exact pitches present in the multiphonics was a challenge. I spent considerable time analyzing and refining phrases, improvising repeatedly to determine which ideas worked best together. Some lines were designed to function as low-end bass lines in a group setting, while others were shaped to allow for more open, spacious phrasing suitable for accompaniment. I also focused on how phrases should end, as the final notes are crucial for linking sections smoothly.

To ensure strong phrase connections, I decided I needed some that landed on F^# and E♭, as these notes connect well with A♭, B, G, and B♭—all of which are important to the work’s harmonic structure. I’ve developed several phrases that meet this need, but I still feel I could use a few more to round everything out.

The Circle-Music Writing Process

Writing these solo circle-music pieces follows a particular workflow. After settling on key musical directions (such as the intervallic focus or rhythmic motifs), I begin with free improvisation to generate raw material. From there, I shape structured phrases based on those improvisations, testing them to see how well they work together. Does the piece have enough variation? Do the phrases complement each other? Do they emphasize the intended musical themes? And crucially, will this piece integrate well into a recombinant work alongside other solo circle-music compositions?

This process involves a lot of trial and error—playing through phrases repeatedly, letting them sit for a few days, then revisiting them with fresh ears. I feel like I’m close to finalizing everything for the bassoon piece, with only a few more phrases left to refine. Once that’s done, I’ll shift my focus to the alto saxophone piece and continue developing that one.

January may have been a busy month, but I’m happy with the progress I’ve made. Now, onto the next phase!

After a well-deserved holiday break, I’m easing back into the creative flow. December proved especially productive as I completed a new Love Letter composition for piano and revisited the other piano works in the collection. In January, I continued this momentum by successfully transferring six additional pieces—excluding the orchestral works—from Finale to Dorico, bringing me closer to completing the transition of my catalog.

Revisiting Love Letters

The transfer process was smoother than I anticipated, though not without its quirks. For the piano pieces, I had to completely redo the pedaling, as Dorico handles it differently than Finale. However, the template system made it straightforward to ensure a consistent look across the collection, maintaining the cohesive aesthetic I’d originally envisioned.

While Dorico’s interface is often touted as user-friendly, I frequently find myself frustrated by how unintuitive certain tasks can be. After importing one of my Love Letters, I needed to fix a tremolo that didn’t translate well from Finale. In Finale, you simply specify the note values in each voice, apply the tremolo as an articulation, and adjust spacing. Dorico, however, requires you to input two notes in the same voice to fill the time (e.g., two quarter notes for a half note duration), then use the Repeat popover (Shift+R) to create a tremolo. Why is this a “repeat” instead of an articulation? I’ll never understand. It seems decisions in Dorico often favor the programmers’ logic over what makes sense musically.

Another puzzling design choice is the scissor icon for breaking ties. For 30 years, that icon has represented “cut” in cut-copy-paste workflows. A razor blade is a more obvious symbol that would make far more sense. These small frustrations make Dorico feel like a constant research project rather than an intuitive tool.

The Bright Side of Dorico

Despite these gripes, Dorico’s playback engine is a game-changer. It functions more like a proper MIDI performance system, offering a realism that Finale never managed. I’ve barely scratched the surface of its capabilities, but even the basics have been a huge improvement. Though playback isn’t my primary focus when using the tool, it’s exciting to see how much potential this feature offers as I explore it further.

Planning for 2025

This time of year, I like to map out my creative goals, even though they often shift with commissions and opportunities. Having a roadmap helps me focus, so here are some of the objectives I’m setting for 2025:

• Building the Solo Circle-Music Collection: Finish the pieces for the woodwinds I play, possibly record them, and release a CD or digital album. I’d also like to create a recombinant work using these pieces. Thanks for the idea, Joe.
• Symphony No. 4: Complete the fourth movement and rework the percussion in the third movement for a larger ensemble.
• Pierrot Ensemble Piece: Well, a Pierrot with alto sax instead of clarinet—thanks, Chris. Write a piece I’ve been thinking about for some time now.
• Other Chamber Works: Explore new ideas for chamber music and see where inspiration leads.
• 10 Circles: Make revisions to improve this work.

Looking Ahead

The year is already shaping up to be an exciting one. I’ll be starting with the new solo circle-music pieces, so keep an eye out for updates on those. It feels good to be back at work, and I’m eager to dive into these projects and see what the year brings!

After the whirlwind of preparations and performances for the November 2nd concert, I’ve finally returned to writing new music. The end of November was filled with cleaning up my Threnody for Democracy recording, conducting an interview for Music from Humans, and, of course, celebrating Thanksgiving. But as December rolled in, I found myself looking at long-overdue projects and decided to dive into both composing and refining an existing collection.

Revisiting Love Letters

I turned my attention to my Love Letters collection—pieces inspired by deeply personal and romantic themes. This collection contains four piano works and three pieces for various ensembles. I decided to start with the piano compositions, using this project as an opportunity to move them into Dorico while simultaneously writing a new piece to add to the collection.

Transitioning to Dorico

Exporting the piano works from Finale to MusicXML for import into Dorico went relatively smoothly, though a few issues cropped up: missing pedal marks, odd layout problems, and some quirks with titling. I created custom page templates to maintain a cohesive look across the collection, which streamlined the process. However, there were still elements like custom dynamics (f+) & tempo markings (in tempo) that will require extra effort to replicate.

A New Work: Inspired by Turkey and Greece

For the new piece in this collection, I drew inspiration from my 20th wedding anniversary trip to Turkey and Greece. Written in binary form, the composition reflects the two halves of the journey: the ‘A’ section represents the land and air of Turkey, while the ‘B’ section captures the sea and islands of Greece.

To develop the ‘A’ section, I explored Turkish music, delving into its modes and rhythmic patterns. Two Turkish melodies particularly inspired me. While Turkish modes incorporate microtones, I approximated their flavor using Bb and C# in a melody grounded in A, harmonized with Western-style D harmonic minor.

For the ‘B’ section, I looked to ancient Greek melodies, including one I remembered fondly from my college studies. This section blends E minor with plagal cadences (IV-I) and incorporates whole-tone scales to add a shimmering, fluid quality. These elements evoke the sea and the feeling of island-hopping between the Greek isles.

Shaping the Composition

With these melodies in place, I began sketching out the structure. Listening to Romantic piano works, particularly those by Schumann and Schubert, helped shape the piece’s stylistic direction. Schubert’s Sonata No. 8, for example, provided insight into accompaniment patterns that translated well into the 7/8 rhythms I planned to use.
For the ‘B’ section, Debussy and Ravel offered inspiration for a more impressionistic approach, especially in evoking the sensation of water.

The first ‘A’ section came together quickly, with a main melody, chord progressions, and a contrasting development section where I fragmented the melody into the bass and added flowing runs in the right hand. This section ends with a return to the main melody, setting up a transition to ‘B.’

In the ‘B’ section, I aimed to emulate the gentle rocking of waves with a new accompaniment pattern.

The melody in 5/8, takes on a pentatonic quality and I decided to brake it up to evoke the feeling of island-hopping. Whole-tone runs reminiscent of Debussy’s La Mer, add variation and enhance the water imagery.

Refinement and Feedback

As the piece neared completion, I made various refinements, including the transition between the two sections to enhance fluid movement. Drawing inspiration from Hindemith’s Moon, I crafted a passage that bridges the tonal and rhythmic contrasts. In the ‘B’ section, I modified the accompaniment, which initially felt too monotonous, to better convey a sense of movement. I also spent time improving the notation, though I still encountered challenges in getting Dorico to behave exactly as I wanted. To ensure the work remains accessible without sacrificing its expressive intent, I sent drafts to a few pianists for feedback. Their input will be crucial in determining the playability of certain passages.

The Key Dilemma

One challenge I faced was the key relationship between the two sections. Traditional binary forms often start and end in the same key, but my piece features two distinct keys—D for the Turkish section and E for the Greek section. While I feel these keys best suit their respective melodies color, I’m experimenting with ways to unify them, possibly through a shared key center, which will require reworking the transition.

A Journey Close to Completion

The piece is nearly finished. Once I finalize the key structure and incorporate feedback from the pianists, I’ll polish the notation and call it complete. This composition represents a blend of cultural influences and personal memories, and I’m excited to see it take its place in the Love Letters collection.

As I wrap up this project, my next steps include continuing the process of transferring other pieces in the collection into Dorico. Beyond that, I’m eager to return to my Solo Circle Music series, which I have only completed, Aureole so far. For now, it feels great to be writing again.