My buddy Michael Lawrence is composing more and more, and the world’s a better place for that, since if nothing else it keeps him off the streets and away from the bad element, which in his case means Catholics, Episcopalians, and Lutherans. You know, all his friends.
But he also has a killer memory, so I’ve gotta watch what I say around him.
He was recounting a conversation of almost two years ago:
…a former boss of mine died suddenly. I told Kile Smith that I was thinking of writing a composition in my boss’s memory.
“But I don’t know what it is with me and composition. I can’t just write things down that I hear in my head, and I don’t wanna be a finger composer.”
Kile seemed perplexed by that comment.
“Who says you can’t be a finger composer?”
And then he stuck out one index finger, and then the other, like the way my uncle used to play chopsticks on our piano.
“I’ve been composing like this my whole life.”