Alouette Meets Her Maker At The Dominion Observatory

Vox Humana with a model of Alouette I at the Dominion Observatory.

I’m perversely surprised that this piece went so well on its first outing. Seeing it and hearing it in performance was an absolute joy, but it was also accompanied with a fit that lived somewhere between, “Did I really ask them to do all this?” and “I’ll never work in this town again”.

Things go to hell in, “Alouettte Meets Her Maker”

There’s a lot of stuff in this score – it veers off the page from common practice to an extremely wild place; it’s a challenge to tame for performance. But Vox Humana handled it incredibly well. They were incredible and I owe them a big thanks.


Patrick Stewart Bakes A Cake | Music Video Release

Happy to report that you can now watch the music video for my string quartet, Patrick Stewart Bakes A Cake on YouTube. There are far too many people to thank for this one so I’ll sum it up by leaving the link below for your watching pleasure; and at times, horror.

Interplay 2019: Alouette Meets Her Maker


The Vancouver Chamber Choir’s Interplay workshops are something you should be attending if you’re into choral music and you’re a Vancouver local. They provide the option for people to audit them but the choir really doesn’t do good enough of a job at advertising what a tremendous learning opportunity it can be as an observer.

The premise of the workshops is that participating composers have a piece read by one of the best and most experienced choirs in Canada (And led by one of the best and most experienced choir directors in our hemisphere). During the 30 or so minutes each piece is allocated, composers can ask questions and make suggestions to see how their writing matches up to reality without the pressure of a real world performance.

They are short workshops – but you see a LOT. If you’re a composer you should be doubly ashamed of yourself for not attending as they are treasure troves of new ideas and teachings of good choral writing.

A photo of Alouette I in orbit

I submitted a new piece I had just completed, Alouette Meets Her Maker which is a sort of story-piece for SATB choir. The premise is based on the first Canadian satellite, Alouette I, waking up from her derelict orbit around earth. She first becomes aware of a miscellanea of radio signals bombarding her from earth before she focuses in on a singular mysterious signal coming from deep space. The signal coos to her lovingly before it’s intent is revealed to be malicious. Alouette is sent spinning into a panic and careens towards the planet surface where she explodes in a fiery heap. The piece closes with the last breath of life from her circuits before they are silenced forever.

The piece may seem like a big departure for me in a lot of ways. I ask the singers to employ a wide variety of techniques that challenge their comfort zone: singing nasally, singing in morse code, glissandi that cover their entire singing range, spoken parts, shouting rhythmic plosives, and singing random clusters. In other words, compared to my recent writing, these elements all together might seem like I’ve finally succumbed to lunacy. But you can find all these elements kicking around in my recent music – I’ve been putting little touches here and there to explore what you can do with the sonic palette of a choir. Alouette is simply my first attempt at making it happen throughout the whole piece.

I was surprised that the piece read so well. There are a lot of extra instructions to wade through. Both the choir and Jon gave me some helpful suggestions to sharpen up the piece before it winds up in folders. The experience was invaluable.

I will miss The Vancouver Peace Choir


I may have gone to University to study music, but in so many more ways the Vancouver Peace Choir is my true alma mater. And it’s for this reason that I’m extremely sad to hear that it’s disbanding.

It was while attending University that I was bitten by the choral bug. I became extremely excited about writing for massed voices. But there wasn’t a good cooperative established between the composition department and the choral department. I tried, in vain, to get the choirs to look at my music but they were always to busy with their current performance schedule. Most of what I wrote ended up languishing in a desk drawer.

It wasn’t until after I graduated, and I began singing with The Vancouver Peace Choir, that I was FINALLY given the opportunity to write for massed human voices. Our director at the time, Tim Corlis, knew I was a composer and asked me to write for them.

The first piece was, bye bye blackbird

This opportunity was exactly what I craved!  For a composer, nothing compares to being around for the first rehearsals. You get to see what comes easily to the performers and what they struggle with. This is a powerful learning experience for a composer. It’s okay to ask a performer to do something that pushes what they’re capable of but you have to know when you’re doing it and by how much.

I have so many other wonderful memories of the group…

I remember rehearsing Samuel Barber’s Agnus Dei – a choral setting of the second movement of his string quartet. It was an ambitious piece for us to sing for where we were at and the choir was likely relying heavily on some of the stronger singers to keep the tuning up and find the more problematic pitches.

On this particular rehearsal, many of these stronger singers were absent and our director was being gentle with us. When it came time to rehearse the Barber, he made a noise like a a tuba swallowing a used car salesman and suggested we skip ahead to different repertoire. Likely, he was trying to spare us the disappointment of failure.

The choir hummed a delicate revolt the way that choir’s often do and we sung the piece all the way through. We sung it very well. In fact, we never sang it better.

I remember performing Tim Corlis’s Missa Pax at a church in Richmond, BC and almost nobody showed up. The audience may have numbered approximately half of the choir membership. But I remember the intensity Tim brought out of us at the end of the Gloria. It was chilling – and you could see it in his face.

Speaking of Tim, I remember that he would show up to a performance in whatever shoes he was wearing, sometimes knee-high rubber boots and change out of them into Birkenstocks for the performance. The reason for this will forever remain a mystery.

I remember Alec asking what kind of Latin we were singing in and having no idea what he was talking about.

I remember a particular figure I had written in one of my pieces that didn’t follow the pattern established in the rest of the work and the director yelling, “That should be illegal!”

I remember having the opportunity to conduct one of my own works in rehearsal and realizing in that moment that I did not want to be a conductor.

I remember performing a piece by Eric North that opens with a guttural yell (unpitched) from the tenors and basses. Once, during a dress rehearsal I misread a cue and the whole choir to hear me perform it all by myself. Stephen Belanger said to me, “If you’re going to be wrong, be wrong as loud as possible!”

I’ll miss you, Vancouver Peace Choir.

Patrick Stewart Bakes A Cake Hits The Festival Circuit

I’m quite pleased to announce that my collaborative project with The Vandelé Quartet and Kale Beaudry will be screened at 2pm on October 28th at the Director’s Cut International Film Festival. Go Team!


“A vile and corrupt banquet spills out like a drift of soggy pigs, threatening the etiquette and decorum of a luncheon that was almost nice enough for you to be invited to. As dinner guests Percy and Penny VonKrapp make mayhem into the table cloth, those on the sidelines can no longer stand idly by and are called to act.

Patrick Stewart Bakes A Cake tells the tale of good and evil colliding in a surreal skirmish around the dinner table — the armies warring with cutlery instead of swords, and over fine linen instead of land.

At stake? Dinner as we know it”.

A List Of Thanks


Thanks to the quartet – I love that you guys are game for anything. And I love that you made my music sound so good.

Thanks to Creative BC for your funding help – we couldn’t have done it without you.


Thanks to Pyatt Hall, the Wise Hall, and The Western Front – Vancouver need a more venues like you.

Thanks Kale Beaudry – you are a warrior and your camera chops are your sword.


Thanks Don Harder and Marco Del Rio for your help on the recording – and extra thanks to your ears.

Thanks to Chelsea for your gorgeous cakes – one day we will eat some together instead of destroying them.


Thanks Kia and Josh for allowing yourselves to be pelted with cake and milk for two hours.


Thanks to everyone in Vancouver that I’ve collaborated with over the past decade. It’s been a privilege to work with so many great people.










On Your Terrible Taste In Music

brahmstakesashitThere isn’t a person alive whose opinion on music has any weight beyond however much an opinion weighs (I patiently await science’s answer to that one) and anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is about to try and sell you something. That being said, we all know it when we hear it: our pulse quickens, our toes tap, and our hips yaw wildly on the dance floor. We can even resort to measuring the dopamine levels in your body to prove that you really do like listening to what you’d never admit to. .

Somehow, despite the measurable effects of good music, the weight of someone’s personal preference will always outweigh anything you can stack against it. If it’s my opinion that Brahms wrote the greatest Symphonic literature of the nineteenth century, then your opinion that listening to Brahms is like taking a giant shit without the satisfaction of having accomplished anything is equally valid. Historically, parties in conflict over whose music was good have manifested this conflict in everything from their politics to physical violence. Conviction in good music once drove Pierre Boulez to interrupt concerts by banging a hammer on the wall and for the Chicago White Sox to host a “Disco Demolition Night” where sport was made of blowing up a crate of disco records. Passionate rhetoric and action has always existed in favour of and against good music but ease of access has made a nuisance of using it divisively.


I’d like to take a step back for a moment and imagine a world where opportunities to discover new music are as limited as our access to pornography (A red herring – they’ve always been perfectly correlated!). In this fantastical place, various gatekeepers control the mass consumption of music and the only way to discover new music is to first know that it exists and get a physical copy of it into your hands. It may surprise you to learn that this mythical place was, for a period of time, unerringly real and occupied a little known nook of history that began sometime in the 90s end extended back to the birth of humanity.

In the 90s and possibly a little bit before as well as after, the Internet happened. But it didn’t just appear suddenly, like a bad smell. It oozed in slowly, like a slightly better smell. It insinuated itself into our existence so discretely that we now have trouble remembering life without it. This ubiquity has had enormous power in smoothing out what were once sharp divides in music appreciation. It used to be that if you listened to rock and roll, you definitely didn’t listen to disco; if you listened to Nirvana, you definitely didn’t listen to Green Day; and if you listened to Berg you definitely didn’t listen to Vivaldi. Your listening habits were a part of how you would identify yourself and “listening wrong” or being accused of “listening wrong” could be construed as offensive and get you socially shanked. Thanks to the internet, modern listeners know little of these divides. Making music available online has somehow neutered the social pressure to listen a certain way. People who appreciate music now have listening habits as diverse as they are. This diversity makes it almost impossible to segregate a group based on their listening habits. To do so would be an impossible exercise.

I am nostalgic for a time when the only way to get access to music was through the record store and live concerts. A part of me believes that making it easier doesn’t necessarily make it better and that people will ascribe more value to something if they have to work for it. Will I cherish the recording, available on Youtube, of Richter’s Moscow performance of Ravel’s Miroirs as much as the concert patrons who braved a Russian winter for the same experience? I’m doubtful. But as a composer, my  goal is to share my music with as many people as possible so how can I criticize a society that’s made the task easier than ever? It’s not really something I’m able to answer and tying myself into knots about it is akin to a fish trying to disprove the existence of water. Instead, it might be more productive to be thankful that your classical music loving peers don’t ostracize you for listening to early AFI and your punk rock friends don’t spontaneously bleed from their foreheads when they discover a stack of Purcell records in your home.