A very modest e/cribble & dribble on, yes, once again ! , – my SELF/ESTEEM and its post/Christmas enemies …
I have once again caught myself out and copped myself on…
Among my young composer’ s works and sweated pomps from 1970 ( I was 26 years old, now c’mon ! ) to 1990 ( I eventually became 46, bruised but not bowed ) there are
, strong, extraordinary gob-smackers and ear-whackers among my musical compositions. Certainly. – So how come I had so long ignored, mistrusted, was
uncomfortable with and silent about these creative achievements ?
Today, late in the day , I got my hands again on a catalogue of the young Frank Corcoran’s long-forgotten compositions from all genres. seeing again my youthful music, I
was knocked sideways … I must ask again : Why so long my lack of ” appreciation” of some of my own works which I now briefly mention here.
Take my early MEDIEVAL IRISH EPIGRAMMES of 1973 – here is a crisply fresh handling of delightful Early Celtic texts ( and that choral HERR JESU CHRIST
of a few years later tackles the Baroque text of Paul Eber, with dark spirituality. – its quasi Black Death – terror of Late-Renaissance Europe .
Again, fresh and courageous colours, quasi instrumetal.. ).
THREE SYMPHONIC PIECES ( ” Pictures From My Exhibition ” ) explores just that, the instrumentating pencil as paint-brush. Retro- and Pro- and
Perspective in these dramatic scores .
Only now in late reflection do I see how my young Irish composer’s lonely struggle against a viciousl ocean of ignorance and anti-art
prejudice and , yerra , general bankruptcy of spirit in the Dublin of my tender years whacked and weakened continuously a brave young composer from the Outer
Yoblands. Yes. -Out there in these Sloblands which I had crawled from was not only Irish total depression or economic hopelessness
but a far worse moral failure in our “middle class ” to accept good Irish art or artists or to understand me as a
composing artist on my Irish island ; to ever dare to imagine with me the boundaries of the musically permissible.
It was woeful. Invincible
ignorance weakens . The pressure was enormous.
But I did not compromise; I decided not to give in in my composing to cheap solutions. Forge strong musical forms and don’t repeat yourself…
The Piano Trio, my break-through ( in 1978 ) to a newly crafted macro-counterpoint was my extraordinary victory over both my musical material and my “musical” ( ! )
ambience. It was bliss and Hell to be alive , certainly.
Before withdrawing to Berlin in 1979 on a Berlin Artist’s Scholarship, the Wind Quintet of that same
year shows highest qualities of, I’ll say it again and again , imagined compositional courage ( see especially the opening bars for those fresh , leaping upper
woodwinds ) .
No, it was no fun for me to have to fight dopyness and intellectual laziness, to persist in a lonely composer’s microcosmos .
The fight ( – heroic ? Certainly, heroic ! ) all but weakened my creative
energies – could have snuffed them out . And yet those three works which I carpentered and crafted in that first
Berlin ” annus mirabilis ” . my Symphonies Of Symphonies for 23 Wind, the there begun
2. Symphony and the first piece ever which I created in the electronic studies of the Technical University are as
huge as any orchestral, chamber or computer-works I have ever attempted since.
Many times I faltered, nearly let that dreadful indifference and lack of resonance take over. The opera ,
“Gilgamesh” I comosed entirely alone by myself in
the domestic terror and mental insanity of 1986 – 1989.
– Time to stop listing jousts and survival strategies and catastrophes and recoveries, I suppose. A list is only a
By 1990 in distant America, I had crafted my “Music For The Book Of Kells”,
my sounding portrait of Early Iron Ireland. Hmmm, I suppose I had won through , bloodied but unbowed. gone strange
in my head and in my musical images.
The lesson which I ( culpably ? ) forgot for many decades since was : head down, forward fighting; never for an
instant give in to the barbarians and Yahoos.