T. 51--Their Last Waltz

At the time I wrote this piece, I was taking a beginning social dance class. In the class we learned foxtrot, waltz, and cha-cha. I enjoyed dancing the waltz so much. It’s so romantic, elegant, and beautiful. The music the teacher played as we learned the waltz was so lovely that I wanted to write something like that. I had an image in my head of a couple dancing across a ballroom, and they were crying because it would be their last waltz together. That was the feeling I wanted to convey with this piece. Why? I don’t know. It’s beautifully sad, and the concept prompted a separate written piece that I entered for a contest. (It was a contest to see who could best imitate the sappy, cheesy writing style of Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight. I didn’t win, but it was fun to write. The text is below.)

One cool thing I learned was how to write a sad melody with a pentatonic scale. Normally, I played pentatonic scales to sound like Lord of the Rings or something. But here I discovered that a pentatonic scale that begins on the median of its key (in this case, the scale starts on an E in the key of C) produces the sound you hear in the clarinet part in this piece. My goal was to create the sound I heard in other waltzes, and I largely depended on the sound of strings highlighted by a vibraphone. I also experimented with the rhythm and form of the melody. More than anything, I just had fun writing this piece and turning an abstract concept into concrete notes on a page.  

"Twighlight" Contest Entry:

My heart pounded uncontrollably. We glided across the floor, swimming in a reservoir of sound. I held her in my arms, and she followed every move with precision. The swaying rhythm of the waltz pulsated through our frames, moving our bodies and our hearts. A sweet, mournful melody floated above our heads. We looked at each other. Her shining hazelnut eyes were shockingly attractive next to her sparkling royal blue dress and wavy brown hair that magically cascaded past her shoulders. Her tears dotted the floor. I could taste a lump in my throat. This would be our last waltz.