It ́s not easy to write a concerto

It´s the second time I´m writing a bandoneon concerto, a musical work for orchestra with bandoneon soloist.

I´ll be premiering it soon, in July.

The first phase is collecting ideas. Writing them down. Little sketches here and there, seeing if they develop into something or not.

I´ve laid down most of the concerto’s structure already, so now I´m in the process of refining and orchestrating it. It will probably last around 23 to 25 minutes in its final version.

When writing such a classically oriented work using a musical structure that has existed for hundreds of years, and that all the great composers in history have exploited in unsurpassable masterful ways, one has to wonder, why?

Why would I write yet another concerto, when there´s so many of them? And so great!

Well, for one, there aren´t many bandoneon concertos, so it will be an addition to its already limited repertoire.

And if not for any other reason than, why not? If what I have to express needs a well-known and heavily exploited structure in order to exist, so be it.

It seems that great self-doubt is the eternal companion of the artist. We are often our worst critics, getting in the way of our own aspirations. I often feel that what I write isn´t innovative enough, structured enough, deep enough, light enough, good enough…

But, in the end, what does it matter? Why do I even compose music? It seems that the only way to convince myself to do anything ends up invoking a form of the ultimate question: why do anything?

There´s a scene in Annie Hall in which a young boy stops doing his homework because he learns that the universe is going to expand and everything will collapse, cease to exist. What´s the point in doing his homework then, he asks himself?

If doing my homework or not makes no difference, I’d rather do it and let that be pointless— than do nothing and have that be pointless.

It´s hard to write a concerto. Just as hard as life itself.

Have a nice day,

Claudio.

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