For those of you who do not know me well, and also for those of you that haven’t poked around my site very much, I need to start this post off by saying straight out that John Mackey is my favorite living composer.  His music is distinctly his, laced with an intensity sorely missing in the works of other composers of the late 20th and early 21st century.  It is ridiculously fun to play, it sounds amazing, AND he writes for wind ensembles.  What more could one ask for?  Well, like most impressionable students, the one thing we could ask for is to be able to meet their idols, those that inspire them, and that moment came for me today.

I need to preface this story first with a little bit of background information on my introduction to and building familiarity with this composer.  I was first given the opportunity to play Mackey’s Redline Tango, a work originally for orchestra that was later redone for wind ensemble, in fall, 2006, the beginning of my senior year at the University or Oregon.  As was my typical process, I dug up a little information on the piece, and what I found was that it had won the ABA Ostwald Composition Contest the previous year, and all of the reviews ultimately said, “This piece is freakin’ awesome!”  I also gathered that this was Mackey’s breakthrough piece – the piece that put him in the public eye as a composer – simply because everyone and their mother seemed to be playing it that same year.

Redline Tango is, in fact, as spectacular as it has been made out to be, and playing contrabassoon on it was a real treat (such a fantastically fun part to play), but after that, Mackey fell off my radar, as I was distracted by my school work.  Conveniently enough, though, that winter, he would crop up again, this time with a different piece played by a different ensemble in a different state.  The OWE had been accepted as one of four large ensembles to perform at the American Bandmasters Association Conference in San Louis Obispo, California.  We put together a great program of relatively conservative works, such as Prokofiev’s March, Op. 99, Roger Nixon’s Fiesta del Pacifico, and Frank Ticheli’s Sanctuary (Side note: We produced one of the best recordings of Sanctuary at that concert that I’ve ever heard).  One of the other ensembles present was the Arizona State Wind Ensemble, which created a program that outlined the history of the wind band.  Starting with early renaissance literature, they made their way through each major variation of the wind band before they arrived at the concert finale: Turbine by John Mackey!

This piece blew me away.  I didn’t breathe for the first three minutes of the piece because it was so edgy and intense (drastically amplified by Gary Hill’s insanely energetic conducting).  That performance rocked my world, and, oddly enough, was when ASU found its way onto my radar for grad schools.  Shortly thereafter, I was in the restroom (don’t worry) before hopping on the bus to head back to the hotel, and who should be in there with me?  Yeah, you guessed it: John Mackey.  I was slightly intimidated, mostly because I knew exactly who he was.  He said something to the extent of, “How about that piece?” and I’m sure I said something stupid, like, “It was really cool,” and quickly fled the scene.

Again finding a new wind in my admiration for this man’s music, I dug a little deeper to find who he is and stumbled upon his website (then #6 on the Google search for “John Mackey,” located under a few reviews and a page on Steven Mackey, a completely different composer).  I listened to a few more of his pieces and took a liking to Strange Humors (all versions), and Under the Rug.  Serving on the council for the Oregon Marching Band at the time, I proposed a show idea comprised of Redline Tango, Strange Humors, and Turbine, but that, sadly, did not fly with the director.  Simply to satisfy my own curiosity, I began checking Mackey’s site, just to see what he was working on and to occasionally read his blog.

The next year, while I was not in school but still playing in the OWE as a sub, I had the great fortune to play contra on Mackey’s Concerto for Soprano Saxophone and Wind Ensemble, by far his best piece to date.  Because it was so new, there wasn’t too much out about it, only 2 recordings for the last two movements on his website, the part for the soloist, and a PDF of the score.  So, adding to my usual prep of playing a piece, I attempted to study the giant, unprintable PDF of the score on my roommate’s tiny laptop monitor, trying to get it into my ear and mind so that I could do it justice come performance time.  We performed it in May of the spring quarter with Professor of Saxophone Idit Schner on soprano saxophone.  Also on the program was Stravinsky’s Symphonies for Wind Instruments and Joan Tower’s Black Topaz.  Post-concert, my dad remarked to me that the groups that commissioned the concerto sure got their money’s worth.  My mom also threw in, “I think you should write music like Mackey, and NOT Stravinsky.”  That made me laugh.

Anyway, all of this leads up to a few weeks ago.  I was talking to a friend of mine one evening, and he mentioned something about practicing the runs in the concerto.  One thing led to another, and he told me that the ASU wind ensemble was recording it mid June, and Mackey was going to be there.  That sealed it; I had to go to that session, if for nothing else than to meet him once again and NOT be in a restroom.  So, I e-mailed my soon-to-be composition professor, Dr. Roshanne Etezady, who works very closely with the ASU Department of Bands, about this event, asking if I would be able to attend and possibly talk with the composer.  She replied, checked with Professor Hill, replied again, and subsequently gave me permission to attend (thank you!).  Thus, an awesome opportunity was presented by the fantastic faculty of the ASU School of Music.

Now, this morning I got up in the wee hours of twilight (not really — the Arizona summer sun rises around 4:30 a.m.), went through the morning routine of getting coffee at the Gold Bar, and then headed to the Tempe Center for the Arts, Redline Tango CD in hand.  I wandered into the auditorium after signing in at the front desk as Sam Pilafian (I figured there was no way they were going to turn away Sam if he actually showed up, so what was the harm?) and took a seat mid-house, waiting for everyone to arrive.  Several of my friends showed up.  Professor Hill wandered in, followed by Dr. Tim McAllister, the soloist, and Dr. Wayne Bailey.  I finally noticed a man off to the side drinking a giant cup of coffee, whom I quickly identified as Mackey, so I headed up to introduce myself.

The initial interaction was awkward, which was my fault, because I introduced myself as a masters student of composition and promptly wanted him to sign my CD with a dead pen that I provided him, all the while referencing one of his blog posts about him signing his autograph on a Whitacre score, which in hindsight I realize was probably a little creepy.  He was then quickly approached by Prof. Hill, and I receded back to my mid-house seat.  Shortly thereafter, my friend, Kaitlyn, showed up, sat with me briefly, and then said, “I’m going to go sit on stage by everyone else.”  This gave me an excuse to move as well, and I ended up sitting behind the table where all those listening to the recording takes were located.  I quickly moved in on Dr. Bailey and asked him if I could follow the score over his shoulder.  This put me right next to Mackey and in prime position to observe the recording process, of which I had never been a part.

The first half of the session consisted of movements 5 and 1 with only two breaks in the first three and a half hours.  Needless to say, talking was kept at a minimum, but during those breaks, I got a few questions in to Mackey, he responded, so on and so forth, and I realized that he’s actually a really cool guy — very normal, lots of energy, down to earth, realistic, and positive.  It was very heartening for me to know that even when he was overwhelmingly busy, he was still a nice person and willing to talk to an aspiring student.

Lunch came about relatively soon, and I was invited by Dr. Etezady to go with her, Dr. McAllister, Mackey, and some guy whose name escapes me (Tim?) but was also listening to the recording takes to get some food.  We ended up at a little deli-esque place, and here I was able to get Mackey to tell a few stories regarding his commissions, his past performances, and his kitchen, which were all fascinating in their own right, and just freakishly hilarious by how he told them (amplified by Dr. McAllisters added remarks).  Lunch concluded, and we (minus Dr. Etezady) returned to the session for the remaining three movements.

At this point, Dr. Bailey had to leave due to a previous appointment, and Professor Hill asked me if I would be willing to mark takes and listen to the recordings, which I eagerly accepted.  Thus, the remaining three movements were reviewed by Mackey, myself, and the other guy (who was only listening to Dr. McAllister).  This was probably the most remarkable part of the day because after almost every take, Mackey would look over at me and ask him if I heard anything odd.  I mean, I showed up just to tell this man my name and have somehow had the great fortune to now be offering suggestions to improve the recording of his piece.  The buzz I got from the remainder of that session is indescribable, but I was pretty jazzed for a good two hours after the session let out.  To my slight disappointment, though, I was unable to steal an hour of his time here to just have a chance to talk to him about his work, or even show him some of mine, though that was to be expected (his schedule was packed).  Thus, I gave him my card and asked him, if he was willing and had the time, to check out some of my music and offer any feedback he may have, thanked him and the remaining faculty members for the awesome experience, and departed.

All in all, today was rockin’.  I am so thankful to the fantastic ASU faculty members who gave me permission to attend and exceedingly thankful to John Mackey for just allowing me to follow him around for a day.  Not only is his music a blast to play — filled with electrifying energy — and sounds amazing, but he himself is a remarkably nice guy.  I hope that there will be many more days to come where I will get to work with him, but until then, I read the words he wrote on my CD: “Great to meet you.  Keep writing!”