In 2020-2021 I asked 6 composers to write me pieces for electric guitar and electronics for a project called, "dark is a way." I didn't give them much prompting beyond that I was thinking of the title "dark is a way" and the poem that the title comes from (Dylan Thomas' "Poem on his Birthday"). Each composer ran with that as they saw best fit. Presented here are the results.

About the pieces:

This may be the only time in my life
where I could ask anybody the same question
and already know the answer.

- Cassie Wieland

"Where the world ends, everything cut down.
John Crawford. Eric Garner. Mike Brown.

Jericho Brown (final couplet from his poem 'The Tradition')"

- Yaz Lancaster

"hands, empty except" is a piece for improviser and field recording. The recording captures 11 minutes of a rainy night in southwestern Ohio in the summer of 2020. Unlike pieces that incorporate samples or recordings into the score, in this work the field recording is essentially the score. It's a snapshot of a space in time. The role of the improviser is to position themselves within that space by their contribution, using their listening and a guiding template of the recording. At its core, "hands, empty except" asks the performer to invite us into their listening experience of this brief captured space.

I took this recording while on a trip to visit family in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. This was a time when I, and everybody, was forced to reckon with the spaces we occupy in new and abrupt ways. After being stuck in one space for so long on the other side of the country, hearing this new sonic space was especially striking. Asking another musician to occupy this space through improvising actualizes this experience by positioning someone—something—new in this soundworld and observing how the space changes in turn.

- James May

"Yfir Sólbjartan Eyðisand" is an electro-acoustic composition of adjustable duration with an optional visual component. This piece is an attempt to capture and evoke a feeling of beauty and deliriousness. I had this vivid image and intense feeling of what it would be like to be trapped in a sunny Arctic desert during summer; with the sun just spinning around and never setting. It’s not such a hostile place to be in, I’ve driven across desertlike landscapes in Iceland during the summer and it’s very beautiful. But the perpetual quality of such a place, a landscape full of nothingness and not knowing the difference between night and day would surely blur the beauty through its deliriousness.

- Gulli Bjornsson

I am an artist. It took me a long time to become comfortable saying that. Not because I didn’t want to be known as an “artist”, but because I always thought an artist did something good for the world. I thought “artists” and “art” made the world a better place. Now, many years later, I have no issue self-describing as an artist, but I’m still burdened with the belief that what I do is selfish. I write music, and I don’t think I could ever stop doing what I do or being who I am, but there is a voice inside reminding me that what I do is only in my self-interest. As artists we can’t know whether our creations will have any effect on anyone for good or for worse. Yet, we do these things regardless. We do them for ourselves. That’s the line we come to live with—our art is for ourselves first and foremost. We do this for peace of mind, to calm an inexorable urge within ourselves; we do this for survival. We have to be selfish. Our work is only truly our own if we are selfish about it.

The world doesn’t need me. is both a reflection on and a reflection of that selfishness. I often write music that has an atmosphere to it, a landscape for you to experience the piece in. However, I took that notion a step further with The world doesn’t need me. With this work, I sought to create an organic ecosystem of sorts, a world created through music that lives and breathes and grows. Some parts of this world are tumultuous, some parts are messy, but there is also beauty. The role of the electronics in this piece extends beyond effects pedals and amplifiers. I created an electronic system that records little bits of what the performer is playing at certain points in the piece. Those recordings get manipulated and played back to create an atmosphere for the performer to exist in. None of the material played back is pre-recorded before the performance. Everything is captured as the piece unfolds; the seeds are sown for the harvest to grow. During the last two minutes of the piece the performer sits there without playing a note as the electronics continue on their own organically, building a new world out of old materials. The ecosystem of this piece absorbs what the performer gives to it, and creates new life out of it. When our work leaves our hands we can no longer control how it may affect the world. We can only hope that it leads to something beautiful.

When this piece was commissioned, the world had stopped. Writing music seemed unnecessary. Who was I writing for? Who would even be listening when everyone is too worried about staying alive? But I wrote anyway. These questions never stopped swirling in my head. The question of “Why?” was never more present in my mind than during the process of writing this piece. Now, I sit down and take account of what is happening in the world, and I admit to myself that the world doesn’t need me to make art. But I need this, and sometimes we just do what we need to do to survive.

- Andrew M Rodriguez

My endless gratitude to each of these composers. All 6 of you created something beyond what I could have dreamt was possible. Big, big, big thanks to the boss Andrew M Rodriguez for all of his contributions to this. This wouldn't be what it is without you. And of course, I'm very thankful for Erin and Basil tolerating my racket.

Tracks 1-5 recorded November 13 and 14, 2021 in Champaign, Illinois.
Track 6 recorded April 16, 2022 in Louisville, Kentucky.

Production, mixing, mastering: Andrew M Rodriguez
Photo credit: Andrew M Rodriguez
Guitar: Jamie Monck