As I write these notes in the Fall of 2001, I once again come to the realization of the dichotomy in the present state of concert music: the almost total lack of any defined tradition, paired with an embarrassing plethora of source materials. It is under this aesthetic umbrella that the direction of most of my ten piano sonatas was set. In general, they have been a test bed for structural and textural embarcations, which are later developed in other works. Sometimes the materials themselves show up in the new pieces (e.g. the coda of Movement I of the Dance Sonata forms the primary material for the Finale of Matisse-Jazz, Piano Concerto No. 2).
Many times the piano sonatas themselves will take chips from the workbench or fragments from another composer's work, as in the one-movement Sonata Rochbergiana (Piano Sonata No. 4), which uses motives from that composer's Third String Quartet. Sonata Piazzollana (Piano Sonata No. 10) stands somewhere between this kind of treatment and the general stylistic grafting of gestures that I use in Sonata Brahmsiana (Piano Sonata No. 3). The basic materials of the new sonata use many stylistic calling cards of Astor Piazzolla: such devices as the relentless chromatic descending vamp in pieces like "Tanguedia III" or "Michelangelo `70" with its lush transposing sequences in the B section permeate all three movements of my sonata. The easy sentimentality of the slow section of Piazzolla's "Contrabejisimo" or the jazzy improvisatory character of the piano solo in the first section of "Mumuki" are suggested in the "Waltz" slow movement of my sonata.
I have featured jazz elements in many of my pieces, but here the jazz element is filtered through Piazzolla's unique rendering, richly embroidered with tango. I also have come under the spell of Piazzolla's piquant flavoring of harmony with unresolved dissonances and jagged syncopation, something that seems to bring out the best in his accordion sound. While no real quotations of Piazzolla's music are used, my new sonata attempts to summon up the special sound world of this hybrid musician: one foot in the popular milieu and another in classical tradition. In many ways, this synthesis represents for me the most optimistic future for concert music: some connection between popular and classical art so that both are mutually enriched.
N.B. Piazzolla selections are from his album entitled Tango: Zero Hour.