I was introduced to the music of living American composer Daniel Dorff by my (young) children, of all people.

If you have kids, and you have a car, you’ve probably been there. A long car ride (and by “long” I mean “more than 30 seconds”), and the whining begins: bathroom, bored, s/he touched me, hungry, s/he wiped boogers on me. So as the parent, you learn important skills in distraction, and put together a literal bag of tricks in an attempt to retain not only a sliver of sanity, but also your will to live. In my trick-bag are many CD’s of music; many of them are just slightly less annoying than the sound of whining children, but hey, the lesser of two evils, right?

Then there was a Daniel Dorff CD: a handful of children’s tales set for narrator and orchestra. How wonderful to find something that the kids and parents could enjoy together?

While I don’t really know him personally, I admire Dorff because, while his music has been played by major orchestras and ensembles (thinks global), he’s a guy who clearly does not suffer from a big head (acts local.) Besides composing, is vice president of music publisher, gives lectures, plays clarinet, volunteers for professional guilds, helps to develop music software, among (I imagine) many other things. And his list of compositions shows that he is writing for people he knows, rather than untouchable superstars (though his pieces have been played by them as well.) So, it turns out that famous composers can be normal, nice, people!

Here’s a short movement of a different piece that I believe captures Dorff’s sound and writing style.

One of the most stunning arias in Bach‘s St. Matthew Passion is without a doubt Aus Liebe will mein Heiland sterben. This aria comes as a quiet interruption of the most intense part of Jesus’ trial before Pilate. The crowd is screaming for Jesus’ crucifixion, and Pilate, fearing a riot, gives them what they demand. In between two shouts of “crucify him”, comes the aria.

Even more stunning is the bizarre orchestration: flute and soprano dance together on two unique melodies, accompanied by two oboes da caccia (predecessor of the modern English horn) – basically a low-pitched oboe. The oboes, I should mention, are by no means low-pitched instruments, nor are they really well adapted at playing the part Bach wrote for them – a funny, pulsing sort of heartbeat.

Heard alone, the aria is so melancholy it hurts. Heard in context, between two loud shouts of “crucify him!”, it is as if Bach was able to pause time to illuminate a glimmer of love in a time of intense hatred.

No BBQ here. Just a really stupid joke.

All the Bach children were musical, and probably not by choice. Most musicians agree that Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach was the best composer among them. After all, when Mozart said “Bach is the father, and we are his children,” he was not referring to J.S., but C.P.E.

C.P.E.’s music is a perfect midpoint between the Baroque and Classical musical eras, combining the ornateness and richness of the baroque with the transparency and grace of the classic. This isn’t the heavy, confusing sound of his father’s late compositions, nor is it the mindless, simple noodling of Scarlatti.