Trinkle Dance arose out of an assignment from a composition class with Anthony Kelley. The assignment was to write a dance, in giving the instructions for the assignment, Anthony said something a long the lines of
If you want to use an existing dance rhythm, that's fine, or if you come up with your own dance rhythm, and call it a "trinkle" dance, that's okay too.
I came up with my own dance rhythms, and, in search of a name, took my professor's advice and dubbed it a "trinkle." One of my classmates, Ben Crawford, turned around and paid tribute to my new dance style with his composition for the same assignment, Dance in Arch Form, With Homage on B-A-C-H, and a Bad-Ass Trinkle B Section. At least, I think that's the title of it. And then I incorporated a trinkle into another composition, Ude, Ude O. So the "trinkle" is not merely a one-off production, but an established form. Take that!
So, what is a "trinkle" dance? Well, it's built on top of a motoric ostinato in 6/8 or 12/8 time. It's got lots of cross-rhythms against the time, and periodic interruptions. With these characteristics in mind, I was able to go back in time and retcon some trinkles into the established literature, going at least as far back as the "Witches' Trinkle Dance" from the final movement of Symphony Fantastique. Who knew Berlioz was that hip? Anyway, back to Earth-616.
After writing two trinkles in a period of six months or so, I thought I was going to make the trinkle one of my trademarks, but that never really seemed to happen. I had a couple of sketches for trinkle ground rhythms, but nothing that coalesced into a longer piece. With my recent interest in metametrics, though, the cross-rhythms of the trinkle seem like a nice starting point for further rhythmic explorations. Maybe it's time to revisit the idea?
I did subsequently reuse the original Trinkle Dance as the last movement of my Bass Trombone Sonata, merely adding an introduction for a better segue from the second movement. This is the version heard in the recording above; the original version starts right when the piano begins to repeat the basic pattern in the left hand. I have to admit that Trinkle Dance is rather hard on the pianist, as the left hand never gets a break, but the relentless pattern in the bass is one of the essential features of the trinkle. My getting slightly lost in the trio section is not one of the essential features.
Blues With a Drone is the first of a handful of etudes for tenor and/or bass trombone. These etudes were written with my own capabilities in mind, focusing on one or more elements of trombone performance. Blues With a Drone focuses on multiphonics -- the technique of singing while playing, so that two notes (or more, if overtones are involved) sound simultaneously. In particular, this etude aims to improve the flexibility and lyrical capabilities of the singing voice. In the existing literature, multiphonics are often used chiefly as a coloristic effect, and I wanted to use multiphonics melodically. Furthermore, I wanted to use multiphonics in a piece that might be accessible to trombonists of intermediate skill level. All too often, extended techniques such as multiphonics are relegated to pieces whose other technical challenges leave them unapproachable to student trombonists, and I see no reason why this should have to be the case.
To these ends, the melody in Blues With a Drone is given entirely to the voice, while the trombone itself is relegated to a tonic drone on G. This presents a slight challenge to the trombonist, as holding the trombone with the slide extended in one position for the duration of the piece is mildly fatiguing. Nevertheless, by simplifying the trombone part, the performer can focus on executing the vocal line. Although the melody proceeds slowly, hitting the notes accurately can be a challenge, as intonation, especially in dissonant intervals, tends to be somewhat unstable with multiphonics.
Blues With a Drone has proven to be effective in its original purpose. In the fall of 2008, shortly after I premiered Blue With a Drone, I was invited to compose and perform a piece at a memorial concert for composer Jennifer Fitzgerald. My composition, Lyric Homage, was loosely based on Jennifer's Lyric II for solo tuba. Lyric II had a number of challenging multiphonic sections, which I had been unable to play when she first showed me the piece several years ago, but I chose to leave those sections intact. Blues With a Drone gave me the opportunity to practice dissonant yet lyrical multiphonics in a controlled environment, and I was able to successfully reproduce Jennifer's multiphonic passages in performance. Similarly, I hope that Blues With a Drone can be a vehicle for other trombonists to learn about and develop multiphonic techniques.