INSTRUMENTATION

WOODWINDS: Piccolo, 4 Flutes (1st and 2nd dbl. Piccolo, 3rd and 4th dbl. Alto Flute), 3 Oboes (3rd dbl. English Horn), Eb Clarinet,
4 Bb Clarinets, 2 Bb Bass Clarinets, Bb Contrabass Clarinet, 3 Bassoons (3rd dbl. Contrabassoon)
SAXOPHONES: Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bari, Bass (optional)
BRASS: 4 C Trumpets, 4 Horns, 3 Trombones, Bass Trombone, Euphoniums (2+players), Tubas (2+ players)
STRINGS: Double Bass, Acoustic Guitar (optional; notation and tablature provided on the part), Harp
KEYBOARDS: Piano (dbl. Celesta), Organ (optional)
PERCUSSION: Timpani, 7 Percussion (one player per part)

PERCUSSION LIST

Marimba, Suspended Cymbal, Tambourine, Xylophone, Chimes, Snare Drum, Guiro, Glockenspiel, Tam-Tam, 2 Whips (one large, one small), Mounted Tambourine (headless, mounted on a stand, and played with sticks), Crotales, Crash Cymbals, China Cymbal, Anvil, Small Wood Block, 4 Metal Objects (metal plates, pipes, brake drums/anvils, etc.), Vibraphone, Ratchet, 4 Toms, Bass Drum, 5 Wood Blocks, Drum Set (kick, snare, 2 toms, ride, crash), 5 Temple Blocks

WORLD PREMIERE: TBA

During the first winter of the COVID-19 pandemic, I created a wind ensemble piece entitled A Wild Christmas Nightcap that offered an entirely satirical take on the blatant commercialization of the Christmas holidays in comparison to the sentimentality one might experience during the season itself. It was written entirely for fun, during a time where larger ensembles were not yet able to safely come back together to perform live music again. I also worked on my first symphony during this time – an epic, multimedia, interdisciplinary piece in collaboration with a group of artists who all had something to contribute to it and who all had something to say within the thematic framework of the piece itself.

Cut to a few years later.

When I first heard that T.U.X. People’s Music was seeking to expand their holiday catalog offerings, I knew that I wanted to contribute to it in some capacity. I also knew that I didn't want to necessarily focus on writing a piece about any holidays celebrated during the winter season. So, I ended up gravitating towards thinking about the autumn season (my favorite of the year) and thought about the holidays that are generally celebrated during this time in the United States.

Then my thoughts drifted to pumpkin spice. And I knew exactly what I wanted to write.

Pumpkin spice (or, rather, pumpkin pie spice) has been around for centuries. One of the earliest known recipes for it – “Pompkin”, in Amelia Simmons’s 1796 cookbook “American Cookery” – calls for a spice mix consisting of mace, nutmeg, and ginger in combination with other ingredients. Another recipe in the same book calls for allspice and ginger. It wasn’t until 1934 when McCormick & Company created and sold their blended pumpkin pie spice for the very first time - its commercialization quickly followed.

The era of “pumpkin spice”, as I’ll call it here, is more recent. I tend to think that the idea of it slowly began with the introduction of the Pumpkin Spice Latte by Starbucks in 2003. Credited to employee Peter Dukes, that drink underwent multiple iterations throughout the years until 2015, when Starbucks began to include real pumpkin in the recipe. The pumpkin spice era really started to take off in the 2010s with this drink (and the many others soon to follow). Now, every fall in America, pumpkin spice is EVERYWHERE - in foods and products that make sense to include it, and in other foods and products that really shouldn’t be touching the stuff with a nine-and-a-half-foot pole. We, as a society, are obsessed with pumpkin spice – it is now that closely connected to the sentimentality and warmth that we feel during the autumn season.

So, I knew that this piece would incorporate the pumpkin spice era in some capacity. The other element that ultimately came into play was Halloween, which is the time of the year where the horror genre especially thrives – novels by Stephen King, Mary Shelley, and Bram Stoker; the Universal and Hammer monster movies; newer literature and media created by amazing artists; and so much more. As a film nerd especially, I love to revisit these classics during the fall (the good and, yes, the bad) – not just for the spooks and/or the laughs, but to also admire the craft and artistry and hard work put towards creating them. To me, there’s something timeless about all of it.

With all of this in mind, a question randomly popped into my head at one point: “What if any of these classic, timeless monsters tried to get pumpkin spice in the modern era?”

Thus, Pumpkin Madness was born.

Before writing any music whatsoever, I sought to create a theatrical narrative that would attempt to answer this question. While the entire concept itself was a campy and ridiculous one at first glance (as are, admittedly, many of the monster movies that exist), I intended to treat it as seriously of a piece of music as I possibly could to counteract that sense of campiness. It would still be in the back of one’s mind when immersed in the work, but it would also inform the entire narrative of the work itself – one where said monster (ANY one you’d like to imagine in that titular role) attempts to get a pumpkin spice coffee, but is consistently confronted with the inescapable conclusion that every café they go to seems to always be entirely sold out of the stuff.

Never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever think that this work would turn into what has ultimately become my second symphony, this time for wind ensemble alone. But the more that I thought about it, the more it made sense to approach it from this perspective - the theatrical aspects of the idea alone fulfilled that definition, in my mind. Like my first symphony, this second one is therefore structured from a filmic perspective, in which sections of music are delineated with cue names which inform the progression of the narrative itself.

Pumpkin Madness is, like A Wild Christmas Nightcap, a satirical take on a popular cultural trend during a season of the year (in this case, one that I also happen to love – you’ll see me first in line for that Pumpkin Cream Cold Brew every fall). It is also a love letter to all those classic horror films, shows, novels, and more that I simply adore, immersed in an entirely dark and elegant, Gothic tone throughout much of the piece. The cafés themselves even have their own lounge music that appears a few times - acoustic guitar and all.

The narrative of the work is therefore as follows:

After a prologue which introduces the main thematic and motivic ideas of the symphony, the piece takes us to the café - a short coffee lounge jazz tune representing the shop itself, where the monster eventually appears and attempts to order a pumpkin spice coffee. When confronted with the inevitable - the café is out of stock for the day - the monster reacts in a murderous frenzy. A second attempt at a different café follows, with the monster even pleading for just one sip of the coffee. The same conclusion occurs, and the monster reacts the exact same way.

This monster's quest for pumpkin spice continues in similar fashion everywhere they go, while news breaks out throughout the entire town of their destructive rampage. A vicious, barbaric hunt for the monster follows all throughout the town, until at last, the monster is cornered, and a desperate, final battle ensues. Just when the monster appears to have finally been able to get their hands on even the smallest possible sip of a pumpkin spice latte, they are brutally killed. It is too late.

Or is it?

The Epilogue which concludes this symphony opens with a magical sense of mystery and intrigue before recapping all the thematic and motivic elements of the piece. Perhaps, like all the classic horror films and novels available to us now, the monster isn't truly dead. Perhaps, someday, they will return during another autumn and attempt to fulfill their quest for pumpkin spice once more.

Only time will tell.