Songs without Words

Ever since I discovered that my MP3 player has a built-in FM radio function this past spring, I’ve been searching for stations to help me get through the somewhat mind-numbing commute to and from lab.  The two segments I enjoy the most are by far 95.3’s afternoon classical program (1 PM – 10 PM) and 88.9’s hip-hop at night (10 PM – 2 AM).  I don’t think it’s coincidence that these are the stations with university affiliations, 95.3 (WHRB) with Harvard and 88.9 (WERS) with Emerson College – there’s definitely a tie between the quest for knowledge and the appreciation of expressive music.

I don’t distinguish music by its so-called “genres,” but rather by its expressivity.  I enjoy music in which the creative force seeks to reveal rather than to pander, to tell the story of the artist and not the story of the audience.  It makes no difference to me if the end product is tonal or atonal, loud or soft, long or short.  That’s why I no longer say things like, “Oh, I like all sorts of music except X, Y, Z” where XYZ could be anything from country music to new-school rap.  Within every genre that you could name – Renaissance, Baroque, Classical, Romantic, Modern Classical, Dixieland, Big Band, Bebop, Free Jazz, R&B, Funk, Reggae, Soul, Gospel, Pop, Classic Rock, Progressive Rock, Alternative Rock, Symphonic Rock, Heavy Metal, Rap, Bluegrass, Country, Film Score – I assure you that there’s at least one song that I enjoy.

My MP3 player is like a zoo where you see a tiger exhibit side-by-side with a piece of Godiva chocolate in its natural habitat.  Ligeti’s masterful “Devil’s Staircase” piano etude coexists with the Chick Corea-style funk-jazz fusion of Hiromi Uehara and the theme songs to the anime series “Sakura Wars” and “Sister Princess.”  What attracts me to each of these is the same – musical gems that showcase improvisatory spirit: spontaneous rhythmic spurts and melodic ideas that sprout anew from simple nucleic ideas.

This brings me back to the radio programs.  Stations like 99.5 and 89.7 have their own classical segments, but these are frequently rather unsatisfying to me.  The very notion that “the classical station” ought to only play music that is “relaxing” is unappealing to me.  Classical music is beautiful precisely because it encompasses such a spectrum of emotions from firey anger to subdued melancholy, through hundreds of timbres and dynamics and tempos.  Only on 95.3 would I hear Nicholas Maw’s recent violin concerto composed for Joshua Bell and the remarkable, haunting sounds of Palestrina, brought to life five centuries after they were first heard.

And the same goes for rap.  The genre itself is based on a tradition of verbal improvisation and storytelling.  Many versatile rap artists have pushed the boundaries of recounting experiences, boasting, and fighting the man through expert rhymes and sampling.  And yet standard stations focus on just a handful of songs by super-popular artists who frequently have sub-par and juvenile lyrics and beats (sorry, Soulja Boy …).

In the music-themed manga “Nodame Cantabile,” Nodame famously criticizes Mine’s violin-playing, characterizing it as “musical masturbation” which over-emphasizes individual interpretation at the expense of the ensemble and harmony.  While she rightly points out that all the parts in a song must enmesh in just the right way, there is also no point to music which does not somehow please or relieve the soul of the musician.  Being constrained by square rhythm or complacent harmonies is just as distasteful as discombobulated instrumental lines.  At all times, the musician must be aware of a triumvirate of components: the self, the composition (i.e. the starting musical ideas of the piece and the ensemble), and the audience.  Good music is a transmission of the emotions of the self in the vehicle of the composition, delivered to the audience.  Too often, music now reflects the audience’s emotions upon itself, or transmits no emotions at all, or lacks a composition.  Perhaps ironically, I am less interested in “hearing what I want to hear” than simply hearing what the artist has to say.

Sometimes the simplest of songs wrenches the strongest of emotions out of you, because of the regret that those beautiful times will never come again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNdy1eGUFZo (“Sakura no Ame” (Cherry blossom rain) by halyosy of the three-man band “absorb,” sung by Miku Hatsune, with subs provided by pKjd)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHi8aXP_YoA (same song, sung by 262 people halyosy recruited on the street)

I have the original score as a PDF, if you’re interested.  It’s three-part chorus and piano accompaniment.

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Somewhat relatedly, there’s an interesting phenomenon of “Miku” songs being covered by real people (note that the above is Miku covering a song by absorb, not the other way around).  I think this is really the goal of Vocaloid: fledgling songwriters too obscure to hire a singer put out a ‘demo’ in the form Miku, and then real singers pick up on it and turn it into a real song.

Here’s one example:

Last Night, Good Night by Miku: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LiQC9WCgmIA&feature=related
Cover by Choucho (female): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCVoW5t8yDo&feature=related
Cover by absorb (male): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8ugmrxD-cI&feature=related

I’m really impressed by all the talent here, actually – the original song was already amazingly written, but the expression on the part of both singers really carries the emotion a step farther.  And for absorb to attempt – successfully – that refrain is just gutsy!

There are several chord progressions that define the majority of contemporary music, e.g. IV V I, iii vi ii V I, IV V iii vi, and V IV I.  Here, I wish to compile the examples I’ve accumulated of one such progression, i IV/III V/III III (also interpreted as vi IV V I in major).  It’s a beautiful chord progression representing hope and cycles of happiness and sadness, wavering endlessly between triumph and sorrow.  Of the four-chord progressions, it loops perhaps the most naturally.  Astute observers will notice that it is merely I vi IV V displaced by one metric unit.  However, just a listen should convince you that it sounds nothing like I vi IV V (the YMCA theme, for example).

The first time I was cognizant of hearing this progression was when I played Final Fantasy X – it’s the core of one of the themes, entitled “To Zanarkand.”  In this video, the theme appears at 0:42: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLnZ5jcsRpc .

Of course, Nobuo Uematsu was far from the first to use this lovely chord progression.  The earliest example I know of – and I invite any of you to supply a precedent – was pointed out by Derric, a friend of mine.  Czech classical composer Antonin Dvorak uses i IV/III V/III III as a repeating harmony in the trio of his famous Humoresque, Op. 101 No. 7.  The trio appears at 1:19 in the following solo piano performance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmAZoexenx8&feature=related .  “To Zanarkand” rips not only the chord progression but the melodic structure (scale degrees 6 1 5 3 in major or 1 3 7 5 in minor) from this masterpiece.

Old-school anime fans may also recognize Trunk’s Theme, “Hikari no Willpower,” which features the chord progression as the intro/interlude theme as well as the refrain at 1:26 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wENJI9dMKRQ).

A more mainstream example is British boy band Blue’s 2003 hit (#4 UK Pop Charts) “U Make Me Wanna,” which is practically a passacaglia on vi IV V I (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i565p-UKT7Q).  It was subsequently covered by Taiwanese star Elva Hsiao (with Blue singing partly in Chinese as backup): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vz5YbaMG_Fw&feature=related.

ef – a tale of the two, a rather artsy anime work, shockingly features what is a rather derivative piece, although the violin solos make up for it (somewhat).  You can listen to “Eternal Feather” played by this girl on the electric violin.  I don’t think I need to point out where the chord progression occurs, but definitely check out the solos around ~2:00 – 2:22.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FXbjHdGo3Q

And finally, I should include Derric’s first encounter, Yukie Nakama’s “Makenai ai ga kitto aru” from Megaman X4 (1997) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUEY2_uqN7c], which also happens to include my favorite chord progression, IV V iii vi, which I think I’ve already written about, but if I haven’t, I will one day … and if I have, I’ll probably write about it again!  :D  Yukie Nakama would indeed be a perfect segue, since her other single of 1997 has a IV V iii vi vamp all the way through!

Released just over a week ago, Luka MEGURINE already has quite a few songs to her name (I can’t imagine such a quick turnaround unless users already had synth tracks prepared long before Megurine’s release).  Despite the fact that Vocaloid2 “raw” technology has not improved dramatically since the release of Miku HATSUNE in 2007, composers and arrangers have been able to apply more and more realistic editing techniques while also identifying unique niches for Vocaloid which capitalize on effects that cannot be achieved through the human voice (such as the blending of Vocaloid with synthetic background and extended range or stamina).  Below are a few links to Megurine songs that I liked:

Lost My Music
http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=JP&hl=ja&v=4nfmkDe1Rk0&fmt=18

A cover of the Suzumiya Haruhi insert song, remixed in a really nice bossa nova style.  This song, while not an original, exemplifies what you can achieve through careful sound editing.  Just typing in some notes and words does not yield anything near this quality of voice emulation.

Reality
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bAu0T2dIc84

One of the more unique aspects of this third iteration of Vocaloid2 is the shift towards a more mature voice, and correspondingly a company-suggested shift in repertoire.  Noticeably, while Miku Hatsune controls the bubblegum pop / techno niche, Megurine’s voice suits the character of jazz and rock more comfortably.  I think this song is well-done.

Ave Maria
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P3yewffHPB8&feature=related

This is a bizarre and haunting “remix” of Schubert’s Ave Maria, capitalizing on the main “new feature” with Megurine Luka, namely English support.  Realistically, what this means is that she’s able to terminate on consonants, which was not previously available.  This arranger, who also did a curious arrangement of Debussy’s Reverie (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0leOP6W-6Co&feature=related), focuses on the grand effect rather than the shooting for the lofty goal of convincing the listener that the singer is human (which is near impossible at this stage).

Neighbor Lawn
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SG0K5iTRD34&feature=related

The ‘video’ to this song is really beautiful, which is my main reason for including this song here.  I like the chord progressions, although the voice touch-up quality is rather poor.

Transient Future
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GfoIYrqrqPE&feature=related

Pretty standard Vocaloid pop fare, but like “Lost My Music,” I think this is among the best examples of sound editing to come out.

I am a composer, and sometimes people ask: “Why does this note happen here? Why is this chord voiced this way?” People who study music are trained to think this way: that musical events happen for a reason. There is a magic to discovering that an absurd note is really the resolution of a suspension held two bars ago in a different instrument or that one tetrachord dominates the chordal progression over the entire phrase.

But post-facto rationalization is of little use to any composer. Even the king of orderly counterpoint, Bach, once said that playing music is not hard, because instruments play themselves. This is the same for composing: songs compose themselves.

In music, there are conventions in any style, but the reason why a computer has never created convincing music on its own is not because it cannot replicate good harmony, but because there is nothing in music that tells you what to do next. Given a first theme, there is no indication of what the second theme should be, or how the first them ought to be developed, and so forth. Every new note is a decision. I suppose that is why people ask “why” the next note occurs – because I seem to have made a decision about that note.

The truth is the opposite: I am no better at making decisions when composing music than a computer is.

A composer is a mediator between this world and the world above, where music truly exists. Imagine standing in a dark room all alone where the only light comes from the twinkle of celestial bodies. The celestial bodies are within your mind but you know that they have a much greater source and that they fill the entire world and space and life. You want to show them to others who have never looked up to see the stars that you now gaze upon, but you cannot pull the stars down because they are so far away. You can only record them in a notebook, hoping to capture their arrangement and luminosity faithfully. On those days when the sky is cloudy, you are out of luck and your notebook stays empty.

This is the act of composition. The stars are the sound-world; the songs are already composed in the heavens, and a composer exists as the vessel by which the actual experience of the stars becomes a memory for others who have not witnessed the song’s original form.

A composition is a translation of a perfect sound, an ideal star-scape. The composition is merely a reflection of the scene that the composer can hear playing within his or her mind.

So why does this note happen here or there? Because that is where it occurs when I close my eyes and listen to the starry sky. The stars are already there and have always been there, and I have only been training all my life to understand how to best convey the beauty of the stars so that others may also share in the experience.  I am yet still fallible and will be my entire life, but the mistakes are in my sketches and not the songs themselves, whose essences are perfect.

For my last Emerson recital (which will be either 4/19 or 4/26), I plan on playing a concerto that I’m composing. For once, I think I’ve arranged things rather ahead of time, so I’ve gotten the go-ahead from Marcus, who’s in charge of the recitals, as well as my teacher, Mr. Chang. I was kinda worried and nervous, presenting the piece to my teacher yesterday, but it went pretty well and he seemed to enjoy the song. I hope to finish the piece soon so that I can have ample rehearsal & revision time with my victim friend who graciously and selflessly agreed to play the piano reduction part.

The concerto is structured in the traditional three-movement form. The first movement is in sonata form, but there are more than two themes. While there is a clear A theme and B theme (in my eyes), there are also numerous motivic ideas that sound like themes as well. The difference is essentially this: the motivic ideas are very short and fragmented (ranging from four to nine notes in length) and recur constantly throughout the exposition, while the “themes” are melodic ideas that take at least half a minute to express and only are stated once.

First Movement: Allegro con anima.

Motive one: tutti opening (B E F# D | Ab Bb F F# | (D) ). This quasi-tonal motif, which is e-centered but has the potential of x-2 modulation, is the opening orchestral gesture, and in the “A” section of the exposition, it recurs in the accompaniment over and over, even while the violin never actually plays it until the development. It is initially very militant in sound, but every time it comes back, it softens in character.
Theme A: the violin enters on this soaring D major melody with a standard romantic harmony in the piano. Despite the numerous chromatic alterations and figurations, I think that this is the most “accessible” theme of the piece.

Motive two: after another orchestra tutti of Theme A and transition material, the violin comes in with this short motive (B C# D CC DD EbEb | Bb). It is accompanied by a fragment of motive one in the orchestra (B – – E – – | F#).

Motive three: continuing in this b minor transitionary section (recall that b minor is a good place to be in a classical exposition – it’s ii, a predominant, of the dominant of A major, which will be the key of the secondary theme). This is probably the most atonal of the ideas in the exposition (B A# D F G D) and has humongous leaps everywhere of up to 2 octaves + a tritone.

The motive degenerates into motive one yet again, and then there is a “searching” part where the violin and orchestra exchange notes expressed in octaves. It culminates in the climax of the transition, when the orchestra blasts out loud chords and the violin is chugging away on rapid sixteenth notes in the upper register. One last statement of motive one, this time in a subdued way.

The meter switches to 6/8, with each sixteenth note being an eighth note from the previous 3/4 meter. After several trance-like repeated pulses, the second theme comes in.

Theme B: this theme doesn’t really have a key, since it’s based on twelve-tone ideas. It is, however, C#-centric, for four bars at least. It is wistful and ambiguous.

Development: I’m currently writing the development, but all of these motives and themes play a role, often contrapuntally. Theme B is developed through inversions, retrograde, etc. as twelve-tone themes should.

Second Movement: Intermezzo

I usually use ternary form for the second movement, but not in this case. The violin begins all alone on motive one from the first movement, subito piano on the last note when the orchestra comes in and plays a dreamy sequence which leads to another statement of motive one, although modified now. The violin then launches a long descent until it reaches a key center of B. The “theme” of the second movement appears, but it’s basically a scale in a really slow 7/4. Everything is spun out of the original idea, and the melody never really pauses or ends – it just keeps going and going, looping around to theme several times. The melody fades and evolves into progressively shorter motifs that peter out in D-C-B sighs.

Third Movement: Allegro Brillante

This is a rondo with an introductory idea stuck on to the front. The structure resembles Saint-Saens’ third violin concerto, I guess, although there’s no material resemblance. The rondo theme is manic dance in 7/8 + 8/8 (15-beat cycle of 3-2-2 3-3-2). The form is ABACABA. The B theme is a G-major tune. I haven’t written the C section yet.

In the standard console RPG, due to the fact that the standard battle theme is played 10,000 times and the final boss theme is played just once, it’s easy for a composer to come to the conclusion that the standard battle theme deserves more attention and careful composition. But the great video game composer understands the gravity of the final boss theme. Ask any video game music aficionado, and you can probably squeeze out the actual titles of several final boss themes.
As with any extended epic, the RPG storyline at this point has reached the denouement: while there is still conflict, the path to the resolution is very clear and has been since the climax, when the ultimate villain is revealed or the final battle strategy is drawn. Here is the catch: while the story-telling climax comes probably 7/8 of the way through the story (generally speaking – I never understood those symmetric models presented to us in middle school, because I think it’s pretty stupid to have your climax in the middle of the story, just as reaching orgasm halfway through sex is pretty much a letdown), the musical climax has to come at the very last instant. The transition from final battle theme to the ending theme has to be extremely powerful. Here’s how some great composers were able to achieve this in their own unique way:

Nobuo Uematsu’s Final Boss Themes:

Final Fantasy 6: “Dancing Mad” – this multi-part final boss theme begins with an off-balance 12/8 but constantly switches between rapid, romantic-techno fusions and, as Kefka moves towards godhood, increasing bouts of Bach-inspired organ chorales and fugues.

Final Fantasy 7: “One-Winged Angel” – a nearly atonal piece that may be the most famous of them all, employing full orchestra plus chorus. My middle school friend once took away a bit of the drama by transliterating the lyrics of the chant as “Seph, Seph, Sephiroth: he’s a man, he likes cheese, Sephiroth!” (it’s actually in Latin)

Final Fantasy 9: “Dark Messenger” – I really dislike the actual final boss theme, so this is the penultimate boss theme. This jazz-rock arrangement begins with Kuja’s theme, an ascending organ prelude accompanied by ridiculously dramatic “We Will Rock You” drums – a purposefully cheesy combination that makes it point. Then, an electric guitar countertheme is introduced that is later played simultaneously as the organ themes, once again proving Uematsu’s mastery of cross-genre counterpoint. Among rock battle themes, this is my personal favorite.

Hitoshi Sakimoto’s Final Boss Themes:

Final Fantasy 12: “Battle for Freedom” – I think maybe this is the easiest “entryway” into final boss themes, because this dissonant, full-orchestra work clocking in at 8 minutes, 51 seconds has all the makings of a theatrical soundtrack. It’s really hard to believe at times that this is a synthesized piece. Beginning with a solemn introduction with just a touch of non-standard dissonance that places it squarely into the modern musical traditional, it transitions into an unstable string of eerie melodies over pulsating bass in the form of low horns and timpani. There are quotes here and there of earlier themes, as in Dark Messenger.

Noriyuki Iwadare’s Final Boss Themes:

Grandia II: “Fight!! Ver. 4” – One of a series of Iwadare’s peppy rock battle themes.  I think the regular boss theme is better, but they’re all pretty catchy and energizing, with none of the dark, sinister undertones that Final Fantasy battle themes usually have.
Grandia III: “Final Assize” – Iwadare’s GIII final battle theme is one of a handful that dares to be ironic by instead being peaceful and light-hearted. The other main one I can think of that pulls this off successfully is the final boss theme of “Legend of Dragoon.”

Yasunori Mitsuda’s Final Boss Themes

Chrono Cross: “” – There isn’t one. You fight the final boss with only the sound of distorted wind in the background. To defeat this final boss, you have to play out a melody using your spells, which produce a tone based on their element (you learn this sound-based element when you first visit the crystals, which produce the sound – and Lavos has the crystals mounted on his back). So, all you hear is the haunting quality of the individual notes that you play out, and when you successfully execute this sequence, you trigger the ending, regardless of how much physical damage you have dealt (you can also kill it normally, too, if you want, but you have to be considerably stronger). The melody turns out to be one of the ending themes, which is extremely beautiful.

Hello, everyone.  I have uploaded the main theme from my upcoming violin concerto.  This is just the solo line, and it is one of many themes that appear in the exposition.  There is a tutti theme which is outside of a clear key, then this violin theme in D, then a variant of the tutti theme which is in b minor, and finally the secondary theme which is in A (but is also twelve-tone in construction).

Anime is known for repetitive soundtracks consisting of throw-away tunes and rip-offs of classical and impressionist works. However, despite that, animation, with its exact timing, allows for some of the most exquisite coordination of music with the images.

The day before yesterday, I was watching Kimikiss Episode 10 in the student center with the sound off (I was scarfing down a sub before the ASA general body meeting). When I came to the ending sequence of just a few shots, I knew that even though I could not hear the music, the timing was planned perfectly.

This morning, I went back to rewatch the sequence several times with sound to savor an incredibly memorable moment. Granted, this is the director who made Honey and Clover, which surpassed the boundaries of girls’ shoujo and guys’ “slice-of-life” (think Minami-ke or Azumanga Daioh) to win quiet acclaim and a place in the top ranks of persisting anime. Nevertheless, the source material of Kimikiss was some average romance sim game, so I had my doubts and reservations.

The anime has nothing of the artifice and shameless girl-fondling associated with dating sims. The biggest emotional drama comes when the heroine, Mao, has to choose between two guys who could not contrast more – a jazz saxophonist and her childhood buddy, with whom she played video games and such. At this particularly poignant moment (every episode ending is poignant, but this one especially so), Mao is taking care of her childhood friend, Kouichi, who has become sick because he had been out in the rain the previous day. But he was out in the rain because he ran into her boyfriend, Kai, at the bookstore and wanted to recommend that Kai take her out to cheer her up. Of course, as any drama would have it, Mao was depressed in the first place because she realized that Kouichi really cared about her and picked up on her subtle needs. That means that, coming full circle, Kouichi’s illness right after a wonderful date with Kai only serves to increase the emotional tension.

That exhaustive explanation in hand, the scene is thus: Mao is sitting beside an ill Kouichi, tending to his fever. The music playing has shifted from centered jazz chords to a modal-sounding shift between F and e chords on the piano, with light glock tinkles on the E’s. At the moment she leans in, the music halts mid-phrase and all that is left is an unresolved E twinkle and the resonance of a pedal-held piano note. In silence, she kisses his forehead and backs off; he awakens and looks at her.

The ending theme of this show has a few defining features, none of which are particularly groundbreaking, but they are still notable.  First, there are two tonal centers: D major and E major; the A and bridge sections are in D, and the refrain is in E.  Second, the refrain’s second phrase pushes two notes up an octave, resulting in “E D# E (up a major seventh) D# C# F#.”  This displacement is really stark because of the human voice in that range.  The lyrics of the second refrain phrase are: “It seemed like it would break / And it was so precious I couldn’t touch it / I won’t ever forget / The wish I made upon that star.”

The phrase “I won’t ever forget” is a single word in Japanese: wasurenai (yo).  The “wasure” part is “forget,” and the “nai” negates it.  It is thus appropriate that the “nai” is the one that ends up on that high D#.

The opening of a song with its last refrain line is not uncommon; in anime opening themes, one frequently does so during some opening image before the title appears.  For ending themes, the dangling refrain is performed with altered accompaniment before the ending sequence begins.  However, the brilliance of this director is the timing of the dangling phrase, which I think has only been matched by Futakoi Alternative, with “Bokura ga Jikan,” with its guitar phrase introduction.  The singer enters on a profile shot of Mao’s eyes shaking, holding back tears, staring into the distance, contrasted with Kouichi’s sullen, expressionless face, just staring at her.

When the instrumental bridge takes over, the scene moves back a few feet, as if Mao had been singing those words and now in the distance you cannot hear them any more.   When the strings hit their high D# in turn, the scene switches to a shot of a starry sky (again drawing from the song).

Finally, when the song abruptly modulates to D major to begin its A section, the credits begin on a the opposite color from blue, bright orange.  E (bright) to D (less bright) is a grounding effect, and the polar shift of blue (sky) to orange (Earth) mirrors that.

I did not talk in length about every element of the music, but if you want to understand deeper what I mean, just watch this 1-minute segment at the end of the episode and I think you’ll get it without any explanation.

I am a composer who is always thinking about images as I write, so I guess this kind of thing means a lot to me.

I want to get back into the groove of “independent music-writing.” In this vein, I will begin my spring-term compositions now.

Violin Concerto

I have had a lot of trouble keeping up with numbering properly, but this is designated No. 67 in my file names, just for organizational purposes. I had torn out a lot of hair thinking about what style to employ, and I have decided to turn back the clock a bit and write more lyrically.

A few pieces that are good references would be the violin concertos by Alban Berg, Erich Korngold (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3EsYUuGo8XA), and George Rochberg.

For a sample of the second movement, just ask and I’ll send you a .wav (from Finale).

Second movement ideas: “tonality-flanking” melody that aches with every step. A rather brisk Adagio – around 80 – and with very little unconventional meter (4/4 almost the whole way through). Piano part is contrapuntal and not harmonically conceived.
Third movement ideas: A very brisk modal dance making use of compound and odd meters with a very plucky piano part, more percussive.

Trio for Piano, Flute, and Violin

I have been asked to write a chamber piece in a tender romantic style.  I think this should be okay – that is my native musical language, after all.

I will use a fully tonal palette, probably using sharp keys (c# minor/major, E major are candidates).

There will be probably two movements, a lyrical and slow-paced first movement and a festive second movement.