The first of my two favorite movements in my latest composition. It also happens to be the last movement actually written. “Downtown.”
There are many downtowns in the Tampa Bay area that could be represented by music: Dunedin could display a Scottish or bagpipe influence – after all, even their high school marching band has pipers! Or we could look to the very edge of Tampa Bay at Tarpon Springs, and include a Greek music influence. Certainly fun. Hoopa!
Clearwater, Tampa itself, Bradenton, Seminole, St Petersburg, Ybor, Egypt Lake-Leto, all have cultural influences from around the world, so the decision became tough. In the end, I decided to simply title the work ‘downtown’ and not make obvious clichéd references to cultures.
The piece is busy. It starts with a piano and marimba duet and the structure grew very quickly from there – an ascending sequence (rising pattern that repeats itself) but with different instrumental colors. A lovely little piano phrase keeps interrupting until eventually, everyone’s gone home.
Or so it seems. A pulsating backbone pervades the area with Tampa Bay’s nightlife preparing for the regular onslaught of visitors and locals alike. Songs burst from every nightclub and many restaurants, and the crowds grow in size and energy.
Unfortunately, like most great nights out that suddenly come to an end, the marimba & piano remind us that it’s time to go back to work. The grand finale of this movement wraps up with a full stop traditional ‘The End’ ending. It’s a fun movement.
Fifth Dimension’s “Up, up and away in my beautiful balloon” comes to mind. Not that the song has any bearing on my composition, but the title simply reflects the experience of driving over Skyway Bridge – the gateway to Tampa Bay.
It’s a scary ride. If you repeatedly get in line for the latest roller coasters at theme parks, you may just wonder what all the fuss is about, but for most mere mortals, Skyway Bridge [Wikipedia link] causes anxiety rarely experienced elsewhere. Up, and up, and up, and up you go – with supports between the driving lanes (not on the outsides) and only a concrete barrier between your 65 mph vehicle and a 175ft drop into usually calm warm water.
Interestingly, the access to the bridge on both sides is a long causeway. There are a lot of causeways in the Tampa Bay area, which fascinate me – some are literally two or three feet above the water line (Route 60, perhaps) yet never seem to get wet (except when it rains). I don’t think I’ve ever been in an environment where a lake or sea doesn’t have moments of swelling.
|Surf Sailing from the approach to Skyway Bridge
– yes, it’s that far.
Anyhow, both sides of the bridge host fishing piers and state parks (actually, they are the approaches to the previous bridge), but the north side also sports beaches and several water enthusiast sites, including surf-sailing.
The beginning of the second movement in my piece reflects the monotony of driving on a long, flat causeway by utilizing a Philip-Glass-like compositional technique. Although there’s much to look at for passengers, it’s a boring drive. And, of course, one has to slow down at the toll booth and then pick up speed again. It’s in the music, too.
Then begins the climb. The ‘up, and up, and up. And up… And up’ climb. There’s no descent in the music because descents always are a lot quicker than climbing, and usually we’re so relieved to be over the apex that we don’t even notice coming down. Until we reach the other causeway, and enjoy the ride a little more – reflected in the music by a more relaxed tempo (speed).