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The highway has been an inspiration of mine for a while. Growing up, we would drive eight hours to see family several times a year. In middle school we went camping states away; in high school the band took weekly trips across the state in the fall; and in college it was a six-hour drive from home. Eventually I moved over 1,000 miles away, a three-day drive with two cats and a bassoon to take care of. Every trip was an opportunity for something new, with a few painful hours in between. It grew easier when I became the one driving, and in recent years it even became enjoyable.
In a sax quartet I wrote a few years ago, Cloud Decks and Turbines, Highway 84 represents the transition from home to college. It was an opportunity to explore, be gay, and start a new chapter. This piece, Ten-Thousand Pound Dancers, begins underneath I-295 at the Delaware Memorial Bridge linking New Jersey and Wilmington, DE. I meander around a three-chord figure — F minor, A♭ major, and G diminished — while solo voices outline the roots. The river may be old, but the water is always new. This fast, dark river saw the founding of the United States and Washington’s crossing almost 250 years ago… Now it hears me blasting Charli XCX at very safe volumes and speeds.
As the piece picks up, we end up on I-95 through Wilmington and Philadelphia. That drive made me feel so alive. After living in the wide open air of the Texas Panhandle, city driving felt like a video game. I ended up in Philly at least once a month. I loved being the designated driver when we went to see my professor perform with the Philadelphia Chamber Orchestra (no one else wanted to deal with city center roads and traffic, but I LOVED it). I love my home in Texas, but Philly gave me life. After a beautiful night of William Grant Still and Ravel, we would twirl and swirl through the Gayborhood. For the first time I could feel the queerness in my bones fully celebrated. A freedom. An absolute freedom I can never lose.
On the interstate we finally meet the Ten-Thousand Pound Dancers, the trucks, big rigs, and 18-wheelers. At first they were my enemy: big, fat, evil machines. My car windows are always open and I swear I could reach out and touch them. I saw a truck take an entire car’s bumper off and drag it around the corner, twice. But who would do that on purpose? These roads aren’t built for them, but we need a supermarket downtown. The orchestra has to get the piano here somehow. The bus is essential. Everyone’s gotta move one day. This piece celebrates the freedom of the Ten-Thousand Pound Dancers.
The highway has been an inspiration of mine for a while. Growing up, we would drive eight hours to see family several times a year. In middle school we went camping states away; in high school the band took weekly trips across the state in the fall; and in college it was a six-hour drive from home. Eventually I moved over 1,000 miles away, a three-day drive with two cats and a bassoon to take care of. Every trip was an opportunity for something new, with a few painful hours in between. It grew easier when I became the one driving, and in recent years it even became enjoyable.
In a sax quartet I wrote a few years ago, Cloud Decks and Turbines, Highway 84 represents the transition from home to college. It was an opportunity to explore, be gay, and start a new chapter. This piece, Ten-Thousand Pound Dancers, begins underneath I-295 at the Delaware Memorial Bridge linking New Jersey and Wilmington, DE. I meander around a three-chord figure — F minor, A♭ major, and G diminished — while solo voices outline the roots. The river may be old, but the water is always new. This fast, dark river saw the founding of the United States and Washington’s crossing almost 250 years ago… Now it hears me blasting Charli XCX at very safe volumes and speeds.
As the piece picks up, we end up on I-95 through Wilmington and Philadelphia. That drive made me feel so alive. After living in the wide open air of the Texas Panhandle, city driving felt like a video game. I ended up in Philly at least once a month. I loved being the designated driver when we went to see my professor perform with the Philadelphia Chamber Orchestra (no one else wanted to deal with city center roads and traffic, but I LOVED it). I love my home in Texas, but Philly gave me life. After a beautiful night of William Grant Still and Ravel, we would twirl and swirl through the Gayborhood. For the first time I could feel the queerness in my bones fully celebrated. A freedom. An absolute freedom I can never lose.
On the interstate we finally meet the Ten-Thousand Pound Dancers, the trucks, big rigs, and 18-wheelers. At first they were my enemy: big, fat, evil machines. My car windows are always open and I swear I could reach out and touch them. I saw a truck take an entire car’s bumper off and drag it around the corner, twice. But who would do that on purpose? These roads aren’t built for them, but we need a supermarket downtown. The orchestra has to get the piano here somehow. The bus is essential. Everyone’s gotta move one day. This piece celebrates the freedom of the Ten-Thousand Pound Dancers.