aaronprincipalstudy

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Media Music

This week we looked into the world of media music, and it really opened my eyes to how much thought goes into writing music that serves a specific purpose. Unlike standalone concert music, media music is all about enhancing a visual or interactive experience—whether it's for a film, TV show, animation, video game, commercial, or even a web application.

One thing that stood out right away was how specific media music has to be. You're not just writing a beautiful melody or interesting harmony—you’re writing music that fits a particular scene, mood, and sometimes even down to the second. That kind of precision is challenging, but it also makes the process exciting because you’re constantly solving creative problems.

We also discussed practical aspects like duration and different versions or mixes of a track. Some pieces need to be closed (with a clear start and end), while others are loopable—especially for games or background applications where the music needs to play indefinitely without becoming annoying. It’s a different way of thinking about structure and flow.

Another major point was understanding the style and concept behind the project. The music has to match not just the visuals but also the broader tone—whether it's whimsical, emotional, tense, or comedic. That’s where knowing a wide range of musical styles comes in handy. A composer for media needs to be flexible, fast, and able to switch genres depending on the brief.

And of course, there's the target audience to consider. Music for a children's cartoon will sound very different from music for a thriller or a mobile app. It’s not just about the composer’s taste—it's about making something that fits the world of the product and communicates effectively to the audience.

This week made me appreciate how much storytelling and communication influence media music. Even though it might seem more functional than concert music, there’s still a lot of creativity involved—it’s just shaped by different goals. I’m beginning to see media composition not just as a technical skill, but as a craft that combines musicality with empathy and problem-solving.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Studying Hindesmith & Debussy

This week’s listening and analysis session gave us two very different yet equally fascinating pieces to explore: Hindemith’s Mathis der Maler and Debussy’s Nuages. Both works taught me a lot about how composers can use theme, harmony, texture, and orchestration to shape a unique musical world.

Starting with Hindemith's Mathis der Maler, I was struck by how strong and clear the themes are right from the opening. Hindemith’s writing has a kind of architectural quality—solid, well-built, and clear in direction. The themes are bold and memorable, but they’re also flexible. Throughout the piece, he develops them using motivic techniques like variation, fragmentation, and rhythmic transformation. It feels like every gesture comes from something we’ve already heard, which gives the music a strong sense of unity.

The texture in Mathis der Maler often feels layered and contrapuntal, but not overly dense. Hindemith manages to keep the lines distinct even when several are moving at once. He uses brass, winds, and strings in a very balanced way, often giving each family its own role in the musical argument. This clarity of texture makes his motivic development easier to follow, and it keeps the listener engaged.

In contrast, Debussy’s Nuages offered a completely different experience. The focus here is all about harmony, tone colour, and atmosphere. Debussy’s harmonic language is fluid and ambiguous—there’s no rush to resolve anything. He uses modal scales, parallel chords, and whole tone sonorities that seem to hover, rather than move forward. This creates a sense of stillness, perfectly matching the title (“Clouds”).

Debussy’s orchestration in Nuages is incredibly delicate and intentional. He often avoids full tutti writing and instead favours small, carefully chosen combinations—like muted strings, solo winds, or soft brass. It’s a great lesson in subtlety: the way he balances colours is more about blending and shading than about contrast.

The texture in Nuages is often thin and transparent, which adds to the floating, weightless feel. When thicker textures do appear, they build very gradually and never overwhelm. There’s a sense of space in the music—everything breathes, nothing feels crowded.

What I found most fascinating was how both Hindemith and Debussy work with texture and thematic ideas, but in such different ways. Hindemith builds with structure and direction, while Debussy focuses on mood and colour. Yet both are deeply expressive and carefully crafted.

Listening to these pieces side by side reminded me that there’s no single way to write great music. Whether the focus is on motivic clarity or harmonic ambiguity, each composer finds a unique voice through their choices. As a composer, it makes me think about what I want the listener to feel—and which tools will help me get there.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Studying Holst

we studied four movements from Holst’s The Planets—Mercury, Venus, Jupiter, and Uranus—and I found it incredibly inspiring to see how he used orchestration and motivic development so effectively. Each movement has such a distinct character, not just in melody or harmony, but in how Holst uses the orchestra to paint sound pictures. It’s not just music—it feels like storytelling through colour.

Mercury stood out to me for its agility and quick-changing textures. Holst creates a sense of motion and restlessness through fast shifts between instrumental groups—almost like a musical sleight of hand. He often uses light woodwinds and high strings in quick, darting figures, and the way he layers different motifs across sections creates a shimmering, almost magical texture. The orchestral combinations are very clever here—often pairing unexpected instruments to keep the sound fresh and unpredictable.

In Venus, Holst shifts completely. The mood is serene and spacious. He makes excellent use of solo instruments like horn, celesta, and muted strings to create a peaceful, floating sound world. I noticed how Holst doesn��t overcrowd the texture—he’s careful with pacing and leaves space between gestures. The thematic material in Venus develops slowly, almost organically, which matches the gentle, calm nature of the piece. This movement taught me a lot about restraint and using orchestration to reflect mood.

Jupiter was the most energetic and joyful of the set. Holst uses broad, lyrical themes and rich textures. What stood out was how he reuses and transforms the motifs throughout the movement—the main themes are very tuneful, but they’re always evolving. He uses brass and strings together in a very full, satisfying way, especially in the famous chorale section, which still gives me goosebumps. It’s a great example of combining emotional weight with strong thematic writing.

Uranus brought us into more mischievous, even theatrical territory. There’s a kind of humour in the way Holst builds up the music—starting with a repeated four-note motif that gets tossed around the orchestra. The orchestration here is more dramatic, with sudden dynamic contrasts and bold instrument groupings (like full brass interjections or sweeping runs in the winds and strings). It feels like a character piece—Uranus as a sort of cosmic magician or trickster. Again, Holst uses clear motivic development but isn’t afraid to surprise the listener with sudden shifts in tone or instrumentation.

What ties all four movements together is Holst’s incredible sense of orchestral colour. He chooses his instrument combinations so carefully—he knows exactly how to get the texture or emotion he’s aiming for. Whether he’s layering for warmth, contrasting for clarity, or unifying sections with a shared motif, it all feels intentional.

This week reminded me how much thought goes into good orchestration, and how motivic development can tie even the most contrasting sections together. Holst didn’t just write beautiful melodies—he sculpted entire worlds with sound.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Composition Devices

This week was a whirlwind of ideas as we explored a wide range of compositional devices. It reminded me how many tools we actually have at our disposal as composers—not just for writing music, but for shaping expression, structure, and colour. Some of these techniques were familiar, others were completely new, but all of them expanded my view of what’s possible in music.

We started with the common practice tonal centers—major and minor keys. While these form the foundation of so much Western music, I’ve come to see them as just one option among many. The more we explored, the more I realized how flexible harmony can be.

Chord extensions like 9ths, 11ths, and 13ths were a natural next step, adding richness and colour to standard chords. Alongside that, added note chords (like adding a 2nd or 6th) provided a more contemporary sound that I really enjoy. These subtle shifts can change the entire mood of a progression.

We also touched on chromaticism and tonal ambiguity, which I’ve always found fascinating. The idea of floating between tonal centers—or not settling into one at all—creates a kind of suspense and openness that I’d like to explore more in my writing.

Then came meter, especially mixed and asymmetric meter. These rhythmic shifts can be tricky to write and perform, but they offer so much in terms of movement and unpredictability. They make the listener pay closer attention, which I think is a powerful tool.

We also explored modes, synthetic scales, and more adventurous tonal systems. Using pandiatonicism or polyharmony(like layering two keys or chords) really pushes the boundaries of traditional harmony. I was particularly intrigued by non-tertian harmony—writing with 4ths, 5ths, or 2nds instead of 3rds—and how it leads to fresh, spacious textures.

Parallelism, where chords move in the same shape, and unrelated triads (jumping from one chord to another without traditional voice leading) were also highlighted as ways to create contrast and colour. These techniques break the usual expectations and can give music a more cinematic or abstract feel.

We also explored serialism and 12-tone technique—systems that give structure to atonal music. Even though I don’t often write serially, I appreciate the discipline behind it, and it’s good to understand how to use these tools if the piece calls for it.

Some newer concepts for me were hexachord writing, mirror writing, and limited composition based on specific intervals. These offer focused ways to build material from a small set of ideas. I found them useful when thinking about how to keep consistency across a piece while still developing it.

We wrapped up with neotonality, harmonic direction, harmonic synthesis, and indeterminate procedures. These are big ideas, but they all center around the question: how do we organize sound in a meaningful way? Whether through clear cadences or more open-ended processes, these devices offer ways to guide the listener—or let them wander.

I left this week feeling like I had opened a big toolbox. It’s a bit overwhelming, but also exciting. Not every piece needs to use every technique, but now I have more ways to shape sound, structure, and emotion. The challenge is to choose the right tools for the right moment—and to keep discovering how they work in my own voice as a composer.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Percussion

we focused on the diverse world of percussion instruments, and I’ve been really excited to dig into how each type of percussion can be used to add unique colours and rhythms to an orchestral composition.

We started by breaking down the different types of percussion, which is important because each family has its own distinct characteristics. First, we looked at pitched percussion, such as timpani, xylophone, and marimba. These instruments have a clear pitch and can be used melodically, adding harmonic support or even playing counterpoint to the strings or winds. I was surprised at how versatile pitched percussion can be in orchestral writing—not just as rhythm makers but as full-fledged melodic voices.

On the other side, we have unpitched percussion, like snare drums, bass drums, and cymbals. These instruments are more focused on rhythm and texture than melody, but they can bring intense drama or subtle colour depending on how they're used. I've been thinking more about how unpitched percussion can emphasize the rhythmic foundation of a piece, providing energy and drive to the music without the need for a clear pitch.

Then we looked at the metal family, including cymbals, triangles, and gongs. Metal percussion has such a sharp, bright timbre that can really cut through an ensemble. The sustain and resonance of gongs, for example, can create such an atmospheric effect. I hadn’t fully appreciated how much metal percussion can contribute to both the texture and emotional impact of a piece.

Next, we covered wood, non-metal percussion, such as the wood block, maracas, and castanets. These instruments bring a different type of energy—wooden percussion tends to have a more earthy, grounded sound. I’ve been thinking about using them to create lighter, more playful textures or to introduce a more rustic feel when needed.

We also explored membranous percussion, like the bass drum, snare drum, and tom-toms. These have a warmer, deeper tone, and I learned that their ability to create a range of dynamics—especially with the use of drum heads—can make them incredibly flexible. For example, a single bass drum hit can add weight and drama, while rapid snare drumming can create intensity and movement.

Lastly, we looked at keyboard percussion, which includes instruments like the glockenspiel and vibraphone. These are fascinating because they combine the melodic and rhythmic qualities of percussion, but with a more precise pitch. The glockenspiel, for example, has a bright, bell-like sound that can add a shimmering effect to an orchestral texture.

This week’s exploration of percussion has opened up new possibilities in my writing. I’m realizing that percussion isn’t just about providing rhythm—each type of percussion offers something unique, whether it's melodic potential, textural colour, or dynamic contrast. It’s about knowing when and how to incorporate these sounds to shape the mood and energy of a piece. I’m eager to experiment more with different percussion instruments and see how I can use them creatively in my compositions.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Orchestral Textures

I’ve been learning that texture isn’t just about the number of instruments playing at once, but how they interact with each other to create a particular soundscape.

We started by looking at orchestral unison, where all instruments or sections play the same note or phrase. It’s such a simple idea, but when used well, unison can create a powerful, unified sound. The challenge is knowing when to use it for maximum impact, as it can quickly become overwhelming if overused. It’s about finding the right moments where a strong, unified sound serves the musical narrative.

Next, we explored the classic melody and accompaniment texture. This is one of the most basic ways to structure a piece, but it’s still effective. The melody takes the lead, and the accompaniment supports it harmonically. What I’ve come to realize is how much the choice of accompaniment can shape the character of the melody. Whether it's a lush string backdrop or a light woodwind harmony, the accompaniment provides the emotional context for the melody.

We also focused on primary and secondary elements—how to balance the melody, secondary lines, and accompaniment. The primary element (often the melody) takes the spotlight, while the secondary lines fill in the harmonic space and provide additional colour. This week, I experimented with writing secondary lines that weren’t just harmonies but active, moving parts that add depth without overshadowing the main melody.

Part writing was another important area we covered. This goes hand in hand with texture, as the way each part interacts with the others creates the overall texture. Whether writing for strings, winds, or brass, I’ve been paying more attention to how each instrument’s line functions within the texture—whether it’s carrying the melody, reinforcing harmony, or adding rhythmic interest.

Another concept we explored was isolated chords—when a chord is played by a single instrument or section, standing out clearly before moving on to the next phrase. This approach helps to create clarity and allows certain harmonic moments to breathe. It’s an interesting way to break away from continuous texture and give specific moments more focus.

Finally, we discussed complex texture—where multiple elements interact at once, creating a denser, more intricate sound. This can happen when several parts are playing active lines, or when different sections of the orchestra work together in a layered, interwoven way. Crafting complex textures requires a deep understanding of orchestration because each voice needs to be heard clearly, even as the overall sound becomes more intricate.

Thinking about texture this way has really opened my eyes to how orchestration shapes the emotional and dramatic flow of a piece. It’s not just about throwing more instruments into the mix—it’s about how those instruments interact and how the overall texture reflects the music’s intent. I’m excited to keep experimenting with these textures in my own work, finding new ways to balance, contrast, and blend the different voices in the orchestra.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Thinking Orchestrally

Orchestral writing isn’t just about layering instruments—it’s about balance, clarity, and creating a unified musical landscape.

One of the first concepts we discussed was balance. It’s crucial to think about how each section of the orchestra interacts with the others. Too much of one instrument or section can easily overwhelm the rest, so I need to be mindful of how to keep everything in proportion. Finding the right balance between strings, winds, brass, and percussion is key to making sure each part shines at the right moment.

Next, we touched on sonority, which is all about how different timbres blend together. Orchestration is almost like painting with sound, using the unique colours of each instrument to create something bigger than the sum of its parts. I realized that timbral colour is so much more than just the instrument’s sound—it’s about how that sound is shaped by the context around it.

Unity and variety are also essential when thinking orchestrally. Unity ensures the music feels cohesive and grounded, while variety keeps it interesting and engaging. I’ve been experimenting with alternating between sections to create contrast, but also weaving common elements throughout to maintain a sense of continuity.

Then there’s clarity and brilliance. When working with such a large ensemble, it can be easy for things to get muddled. But by carefully considering the texture and spacing between instruments, I can create passages where everything is clear, and each part is heard as it should be. Brilliance comes into play when I want to highlight specific moments, making them sparkle and stand out.

Finally, we talked about expressiveness—how orchestration can convey emotion and character through every decision, from dynamics to articulation. Every choice I make in orchestration should serve the emotional intent of the music.

Thinking orchestrally has made me more aware of how every part of the orchestra contributes to the overall feeling of a piece. It’s not just about creating a score—it’s about sculpting sound, making sure every instrument has its moment to shine while supporting the whole. I’m excited to continue experimenting with these ideas in my compositions and see how they affect the way my music comes to life.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Motivic Development

We looked into motivic development, and it gave me a new perspective on how to build musical ideas in a more meaningful way. Rather than constantly trying to come up with new material, I’m learning how to take a simple motif and really work with it—shaping it, stretching it, and letting it evolve throughout a piece.

We started by going over basic techniques like repetition and sequence. At first glance, these seem obvious, but when applied thoughtfully, they can give a motif a real sense of direction and momentum. I found that sequencing even just a few notes can create tension and pull the music forward naturally.

Then we got into more creative transformations—changing intervals, fragmenting the motif into smaller parts, or extending it. These tools allow for more subtle variations that can keep the listener engaged without feeling repetitive. I especially liked how inversion and changing the rhythm can give a familiar idea a completely different character, even if the pitch content stays similar.

We also touched on augmentation and diminution—stretching or shortening the rhythm—which I had mostly associated with counterpoint before, but now I see how effective it can be in developing a theme. Other techniques like contraction, expansion, and changing the order of notes gave me even more to experiment with.

I tried applying some of these methods in a short sketch I wrote, starting with just a four-note motif. By the end of the exercise, it felt like the motif had “grown” into something much larger without losing its identity. That was really satisfying, and it showed me how motivic development can be the backbone of a strong composition.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Scoring for Brass

Probably the most powerful part of the orchestra. It was clear right from the start that brass brings a completely different energy compared to strings or winds. The sound is bold, rich, and can easily dominate the ensemble if not handled carefully.

One thing we discussed is how brass isn’t as homogenous in sound as the string section. While horns and trombones can blend quite well, the section as a whole still has a lot of individual colour and weight. Because of that, writing for brass requires a careful touch—especially since it’s not “tireless” like strings. Players need time to breathe and rest, and too much brass at once can easily overwhelm the listener.

We explored a few common functions for brass in orchestration. One of the main roles is as a homophonic unit—moving together in harmony. When writing in this style, we were reminded to be really mindful of voicing, spacing, and how parts are doubled. Referring to the overtone series helped when figuring out how to space chords naturally for the instruments.

Brass can also be used to strengthen or clarify harmony, either by doubling parts from other sections, sustaining pedal tones, or acting as a kind of harmonic “glue” in the background. I hadn’t thought of brass as a subtle support before, but it’s actually quite effective when used this way.

Another powerful use of brass is stating a melody. The timbre and dynamic choices here really matter—sometimes a solo horn is enough, while other times it’s about combining trumpets and trombones for a bolder, heroic sound. Brass can also double other instruments to add weight and colour, especially in climactic moments.

I’m starting to understand that brass isn’t just about loud, epic fanfare—it’s also about control, colour, and balance. I’m looking forward to trying some of these techniques in my own writing, especially experimenting with how brass can lift and support the rest of the orchestra.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Winds (Part 2)

We also discussed some of the common functions of the wind section in orchestration. Winds are often used for harmonic background through homophonic writing, but they’re also great for solo passages where you can choose specific timbres and colours for expression. They can be used to contrast the strings—either by repeating a phrase or creating a sense of relief from denser textures. Lastly, winds are excellent for doubling other instruments, adding richness, warmth, or even brightness to a musical line.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Scoring for Winds

it’s been interesting to compare it with what we’ve learned about strings. One of the first things I noticed is how much less homogenous the wind family is. Unlike strings, where the tone blends smoothly from one instrument to another, winds have more distinct personalities. The difference between single reed instruments like the clarinet and double reed instruments like the oboe is quite noticeable, both in tone and in how they project.

Because of this variety, writing for winds feels more like working with a group of soloists rather than a single unified section. Each instrument brings its own colour to the ensemble, and that opens up a lot of expressive possibilities—but it also means I need to think more carefully about how they interact and balance with one another.

Another important thing I learned: wind players need to breathe! It seems obvious, but it really changes how I approach phrasing and articulation. I can’t just write endless lines like I might for strings. I need to be more thoughtful with rests and breaks in the music to give them space to breathe naturally.

We also explored some interesting playing techniques this week. I got to hear examples of double- and triple-tonguing—very useful for creating fast, articulate passages, especially in brass. Harmonics were another cool discovery, especially since the pitch sounds exactly as written (unlike string harmonics, which can be more complex). And then there’s fluttertongue—mainly used by flautists—it creates this buzzing, rolling effect, almost like a growl or a trill but with a different energy. I’m already thinking about how I might use it to add texture or tension in a future piece.

All of this reminded me how much character and variety the wind section brings. It’s not just about melody—winds can add drama, colour, and even surprise to a piece. I’m excited to keep experimenting with these techniques and see how they can help shape the emotion and pacing in my compositions.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Scoring for Strings

we focused on the string section, and I’ve started to see why it’s often considered the backbone of the orchestra. We looked at what makes strings so special, especially when it comes to film and orchestral writing.

One of the key takeaways was how homogenous the timbre is across the whole string family. From violins to double basses, they all share a similar sound quality, which makes them blend beautifully. This makes writing smooth, connected lines much easier and more effective.

Another thing that stood out to me is how tireless strings can be. Unlike brass or woodwinds, string players can sustain long passages without needing to stop for breath, and listeners don’t easily get fatigued either. That makes them great for underscoring—creating atmosphere and emotion over long scenes without drawing too much attention.

Also, strings are incredibly versatile. They can cover a wide range of registers, and their expressive capabilities are almost limitless—from warm legato lines to sharp staccatos, soft harmonics to aggressive tremolos. There’s so much room to explore in terms of colour and texture.

Learning this made me appreciate how much thought goes into writing for strings—not just technically, but emotionally too. I’m beginning to hear how composers use the string section to shape the mood and energy of a scene. I’m excited to try writing more with strings in mind and to use their natural strengths to support the musical story I want to tell.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Film Music

we explored how melody and harmony are still essential in film and animation scores. It was interesting to see how many modern composers continue to use traditional techniques, especially from the Romantic era, to tell stories through music.

One of the key ideas we discussed was leitmotif—a recurring theme linked to a character, place, or emotion. It’s something that composers like John Williams use all the time, and it helps create emotional connections in a story. For example, in "Out of Africa" or "Star Wars," you can hear a specific theme whenever a certain character appears, and that theme evolves depending on the situation.

We also looked at orchestration and how Romantic-era techniques are still relevant today. Full, lush string writing, sweeping melodies, and dramatic brass and percussion are often used to create a cinematic sound. Techniques like divisi strings, tremolos, and careful doubling across sections help build intensity and color in the music.

It made me realize how important it is to understand classical orchestration to write for a film. Even though the medium is modern, the roots are still very much grounded in traditional music practices. I'm excited to learn more about how to write music that supports a story and to explore how these orchestral techniques can enhance emotion and character in my own work.

[aaronprincipalstudy]

Y3: Max Reger

My semester began with an in-depth study of Max Reger's modulation techniques. His harmonic progressions are sometimes unpredictable, and I found them both exciting and tricky to understand. I had to get used to thinking about harmony in a more advanced way.

Reger's music uses a lot of chromatic movement and unexpected key changes. At first, it was overwhelming, but working through examples helped me see how he made these transitions feel natural. I started trying out some of the ideas in my own compositions, experimenting with different modulation techniques to see how they could shape a piece.