Chapter 10Brent
I’d read through the score of the first piece on the program at the faculty quartet recital, and I’d heard them rehearse it once. Simon Wolfe, the Conservatory’s “Composer in Residence,” had written a masterful piece. It was, to the educated eye and ear, clearly twenty-first century music. Wolfe hadn’t found it necessary, however, to prove he’d lived in the twentieth century, so the piece wasn’t particularly dissonant. There were, in fact, lovely melodies throughout the one-movement work, though some of the chord structures and progressions might have startled the nineteenth-century composers who had clearly influenced his concepts.
Gabe and I went to the performance with great anticipation. I hadn’t heard the faculty quartet in recital before. My only experience with the
