Tangle was written in the spring of 2017, during my sophomore year at Samford. I originally composed the piece to fulfill an assignment for a theory class in which we had to utilize several different techniques of contemporary composition. The most notable techniques I implemented in the composition of Tangle were mixed meter and synthetic scales. As a matter of fact, I created my own scale for the piece, combining several modes to construct a fresh tonality. The scale I made is essentially a minor scale, but with a couple of twists.

Tangle tells a story of two members becoming comically entangled and engaging in a confusing and disorienting dance. The alto saxophone plays the main theme as a solo, setting the scene. The tenor, hearing the call of the alto, enters the scene and repeats the theme. After the two have both stated it, they go off into a high speed chase. Never fully aligning for the first moments of this faster section, the two members chase each other’s tails (and sometimes their own) wildly. They reach rhythmic unity eventually, but with still some minor deviations. The dance continues quickly until both members tire. By the time we reach the end of Tangle, they play together, winding down to a satisfying conclusion.

I placed this piece at the beginning of the recital because it was one of the more inconsequential pieces on the program. I think it explores some interesting techniques and ideas (see first paragraph), and the performers — Michael Saddekni (alto saxophone) and William Walker (tenor saxophone) — did an excellent job. To the extent that the recital was autobiographical (more on that later), however, Tangle depicts one of the more philosophically, theologically, and therefore personally irrelevant aspects of that autobiography. It represents — as best as I can tell — the chase.

Of course, if you know me at all, you know that my life is driven by relationship. (There have been periods in my life when I try to live contrary to that; it never goes well. But that’s a story for another time and another name.) Sometimes these relationships have to do with friends, sometimes family, and sometimes (often) romantic interests; this last one was most often the case with the music I wrote for my recital. So… yes, even my recital was, at least in part, a break-up album. As the kids say, “don’t @ me.”

That being said, this “chase” is a concept familiar to anyone who has taken part in a romantic relationship. Boy sees girl. Boy is enamored. Girl notices. Chase ensues, in some form or another. The two saxophones in Tangle are replicating this chase. The alto (female) states the theme, the tenor (male) notices and imitates. The alto makes another move, the tenor follows, then the two are suddenly racing uncontrollably towards something without a clear goal in mind. To me, this well represents the romantic relationships I’ve found myself in. I become fascinated by someone and, without giving myself time to articulate my goals (or even my feelings) to myself or my romantic interest, I am running that fascination down relentlessly.

Tangle ends, as I said earlier, in a satisfying way. The chase has concluded, and in the happiest of ways; the two members are now operating in relation to each other, fulfilling the young dreams of the short-sighted lovers. But the reason I said this piece was so personally insignificant is because these moments — of fascination, pursuit, and the achievement of co-dependence — have been so fleeting in my life. There is little to these moments in my life that has lasted but a moment. There is little learned, there is little gained, and there is much lost in what comes after. This piece ends as it does because it is meant to briefly capture a brief experience in any romantic relationship. Most of the rest of the recital was written to explore and express the much deeper, much more significant lessons of pain and loss that come as a result of the web so foolishly spun by Tangle.

If you’d like to purchase the score and/or audio for Tangle, please contact me for rates.