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The Oberlin Contemporary Music Ensemble, Tim Weiss, Conductor, performs four of Randy's pieces at Hall Auditorium, Friday, May 8, 8:00 pm, free - no tickets.
Program:
Bellagio (2009)
Apparitions (2003) with videodance by Carter McAdams and Nusha Martynuk
Soundprint III (1973)
The Great Lalula (1988) dance choreographed by Nusha Martynuk and performed by Cleveland GroundWorks Dance Company
In addition to the concert at Hall Auditorium and a reception at Dean David Stull's home on May 8, Randy would like to invite any returning alumni to write 2-minute pieces that will be performed on the evening of Saturday, May 9, at a venue to be determined, followed by dinner together at a local restaurant.
Announcement
The Oberlin Contemporary Music Ensemble, Tim Weiss, Conductor, performs four of Randy's pieces at Hall Auditorium, Friday, May 8, 8:00 pm, free - no tickets.
Program:
Bellagio (2009)
Apparitions (2003) with videodance by Carter McAdams and Nusha Martynuk
Soundprint III (1973)
The Great Lalula (1988) dance choreographed by Nusha Martynuk and performed by Cleveland GroundWorks Dance Company
In addition to the concert at Hall Auditorium and a reception at Dean David Stull's home on May 8, Randy would like to invite any returning alumni to write 2-minute pieces that will be performed on the evening of Saturday, May 9, at a venue to be determined, followed by dinner together at a local restaurant.
On the occasion of Randy's retirement from Oberlin College in 2009, alumni and colleagues are invited to post their memories and wishes here.
The year was 1962, the place was Schenectady. I'd been working in pest control by day and shacking up with an alcoholic dancer named Pauline by night. In my pocket I carried a tiny notebook in which I placed a tally mark every time she didn't respond to something I said.
ReplyDeleteI was on my second notebook by the time I got assigned to the Coleman place. Vince, my dispatcher, told me to bring four tanks of imiprothrin, a pair of galoshes, and a cyanide capsule, just in case. Randy lived over on the eastern edge of the city, in a rathole flat above a 24-hour pawn shop called Make Or Break's. I meant to knock twice, but he swung open the door after only one.
In those days Randy looked nothing like he does today. His most notable characteristics were his dreaming, unassuming eyes and his painfully twisted back - a deformity attributed to a childhood bout with scoliosis, which would be suddenly and miraculously cured years later following a mushroom trip in the Himalayas.
He was cleanshaven, which I found odd, considering the bohemian trappings of his apartment. On an easel in the corner rested a canvas draped with a cloth, in which holes had been cut such that only very small portions of the painting underneath were visible at any given time. Candle butts were melted into the ceiling and the walls. In the kitchen I found a hifi stereo with an axe through it.
After a cursory inspection of the apartment turned up no infestation, I asked Randy for more details as to the specific nature and location of his pests. A rambling, near-incoherent monologue-cum-rant followed, by the end of which I was forced to conclude that the creatures plaguing this man were in reality the hallucinatory manifestations of the dozens of pieces of music gestating in his mind at the moment. I sat on a wooden milk crate while he described them to me, his eyes tracking them around the room: a bat-winged myna bird screeching from atop the doorjamb, a blue cat with six legs scurrying under the armoire.
It was hours before I left, retracing my steps through the snowy streets, lugging the imiprothrin back to the pest control offices. Stray dogs padded past without looking at me, yellow in the sodium lamps. When I arrived home, dawn was melting over the horizon and Pauline was gone. She'd taken my wallet and my record collection.
Dear Randy,
ReplyDeleteThe first time i met you was on our wedding day.
I was scared!
I was nervous!
But my father and my mother said we'd learn to love each other.
and now i'm asking, Randy,
Do You Love Me?
I don't know what higher learning is like now, but when I was there (1987-1991), Oberlin abounded in a tendency towards specialization in every department. Rare was the exception, and unique was the phenomenon of Randolph Coleman. Randomly open the door on one of his classes and we were as likely to be discussing the philosophy of science, getting schooled in the history of refinancing, arguing about Elvis, poetry, or trombone slide positions. It was as endless as was our hunger for more. And there was always more. He cheerfully forced everyone he taught to see that beyond the mundane and the taken-for-granted, there was always something as yet unseen - a new approach to music-making, an ignored historical context, otherwise-unmentioned cross-disciplinary connections, a more meaningful "way of being in the world." And no matter how bizarre the ruminations or intense the mental and emotional freakouts that resulted for us youngsters, our prof never flinched or retreated from his obvious desire to push us further. I know that at the time I was there Coleman was widely seen in the Con as providing some sort of "alternative" to the traditional thinking that naturally went with a professional training institution. But the irony is that 17 years after graduation, it is his teaching that I still find myself discovering the meaning of, studying further, passing along, or trying to disprove. He was without a doubt the greatest teacher I've ever had.
ReplyDeleteI remember I once asked him, flabbergasted, if there was anything he didn't know, and he replied that he didn't know how to cook. May the retirement of Professor Coleman usher in the era of Chef Coleman!
Every time I sit at the piano to compose, I hear Randy's words in my head: "don't repeat yourself" and am pushed to create something beyond myself. It's seriously a bar I try to jump whenever I'm writing. This mantra applies to my musical phrases, and also extends to my everyday: challenging me to not get too comfortable in life, to take risks and keep moving. I value his words from 17 years ago so much. It's the one phrase that can repeat and repeat..
ReplyDeleteI still have not ascertained my experience of being a student of Randy's 20 years ago. I do know I could not wait to go to composition lessons and did not want to leave. It was the best hour of the week. I know that Theory IV was weird because it was implied that we knew it all already and so let's set our sights elsewhere. (I finally mastered Theory IV about 2 years after completing my doctorate.) I know that "Trends in Contemporary Music" was thrilling and frightful and fun. Somehow it all influenced me deeply even though I don't write music a bit like Robert Ashley. This is a great testament to Randy, because he taught using models that were only, adamantly, doggedly experimental and un-traditional with a born-on date post-1950. This is no different than someone teaching using only Bach. And few composers who learn from Bach sound like Bach. That Randy saw to it that his teachings sprung only out of this rich repertoire or philosophy is a boon to anyone who fed from the trough. I was drunk with it at the time, and appreciative of its uniqueness thereafter. I never knew any other composer who taught or related in this way. I still read my notes from those days and find the occasional film or book title scribbled in the margin of my notebooks that suddenly scream at me for attention. Randy was a master of teaching one how to fish rather than giving the fish. Maybe that's why I still wonder what he will teach me next.
ReplyDeleteAnecdotes. In one of my first lessons I took in a long piano trio. He thumbed through it. "Everything's in the right place." Closed it. That was it. That's not where we were going! (Randy, I looked at this trio the other day and I promise you, everything is not in the right place! But point taken.) In the Trends class I came up with this piece that spent many minutes preparing the piano in a seemingly serious and interesting way, but it was all a smokescreen. After everyone closed their eyes to listen, the lid was slammed shut as loud as possible. (I don't remember being a sadist, but I guess can't hide from that one…) After a period of stunned silence in the class, Randy was the first to speak, "…and the subtitle to THAT one is Heart Attack." Once I had an interesting piece for two instruments and Randy wanted it to be performed at the Midwest Composers Symposium. I thought that was cool. But I never got around to actually entering the score. I was walking down the hall to our lesson one day and he was coming out of the meeting where the faculty were deciding what pieces would go. Wideeyed, he came at my throat with both hands. I was rehearsing it that night.
Thank you, Randy! Thanks for stretching my mind and encouraging me and not giving me a pass on my effing piano trio! Happy Retirement. Oberlin will never be the same.
Julia Schwartz writes:
ReplyDeleteIn the early 1980's music theory classes and casual conversation with Randy were vocabulary-building, perception-broadening and prejudice-altering experiences. I have been lucky enough to see and talk to him every couple of years since then and always manage to "take something with me" even if I don't entirely agree. But that's ok, too. All the best!
To the man who introduced me to the work of Marshall MacLuhan and taught me that we don't actually ever see straight lines, cheers to your retirement.
ReplyDeletei cannot think of any person, other than my parents, who has had a greater influence on the ways i approach art and everything else than randy.
ReplyDeleteThanks to Randy Coleman, I'm forever cursed with moving an ever increasing number of book-filled boxes every time we change domiciles. I keep packing and unpacking the same books I bought back at the Coop (back when you had physically to pick up a book to buy it.) All that stuff is heavy, and my back's not gettin any younger. On the plus side, I love the furrowed brows and faraway nonplussed look I observe when people spot "Critique of Commodity Aesthetics" on the shelf. Not too far down the row from some Lester Bangs, if I remember correctly, all courtesy of private reading assignments (if you can call them that, since the general idea was, "what do you want to read next?" which always generated more thoughtful and subverting discussion than one person can take).
ReplyDeleteToo many memorable and life-altering moments to share, at least on a Blogger page. Here's to the chief.
Jim
Malou Suskin writes:
ReplyDeleteI wish I had my beloved husband Sylvan Suskin ability to deeply express how much Randy's friendship meant to him. There was no one Sylvan admired more than Randy (except Mozart perhaps). Every time Sylvan and Randy met for lunch, Sylvan came home invigorated and eager to share Randy's ideas. Thanks to Randy, Sylvan was not just an historian but also someone open to new music and contemporary art. Randy's wide knowledge about every aspect of life always amazed Sylvan.
I wish Randy a most stimulating retirement. His new studio will allow him to continue bringing to the Oberlin community the opportunity to reflect about the world of ideas.
I would also like to thank Randy for his unfailing friendship, especially when Sylvan became very ill. His support meant a great deal to our family, particularly after Sylvan's death.
More than just the concepts covered in his music theory classes it's also Randy's thoughts and commentaries that appear frequently to me still, always at just the right moments-- artistic collaboration, film music, soul food, Eraserhead, and a thousand other things.
ReplyDeleteIt was and is so inspiring to see someone so engaged with so many different things, and how they all relate. I am grateful for having found a kindred spirit. Congratulations and all best wishes for a fulfilling retirement!
more than any other
ReplyDelete20 years ago
(as today i'm sure too)
what an example!
always more friendly
always more insightful
always more patient
always more inspiring
always more accomodating
always more accepting
always more laid-back
always more directed
always more fun
always more daring
always more unique
always more geniune
you're the best!
Thank you : )
Here's to never having a large enough surface on which to compose.
ReplyDeleteHere's to going through life constantly referencing Sol LeWitt, John
Berger, and Scott McCloud.
Here's to never again hearing a rhythm in 5 without singing to myself,
"LaLuLaLuLa"
Here's to always questioning notation (the least subject worthy of
questioning actually).
Here's to being reminded of the awe-inspiring sight of watching a baby
slowly wake to the world (after the birth of a certain boy in the late
90s and again with the birth of my son last year).
Here's to fostering a love for and life in collaborative work (my
wife: a playwright, need I say more), despite my being the same person
who asked him to define "multimedia" during my prospect interview in
order to complete the admissions application.
Here's to a happy, healthy, and productive retirement! We look
forward to the next chapter.
I'm sorry I'm missing the concert this weekend, but I wanted to make
sure to say: Thank you, Randy, for everything!
Best,
-Sophocles
; COMPileD for RandI
ReplyDelete#include (something here is gone)
main ()
void = 5x (101x bin)
buff (chaR let, 1000 flowers bloom)
free (p);
rANDom_seed = n;
p = realloc (p, licketY split);
{
while (-n >= 999) {
if (eRrno) portAbility pitfalls
while (-N<= 1000)
complain}
if not obligeD to clear errno
return 1001}
if (p == 0)
panic ("smoke curls upward");
[the tooochinoisegasbubble]
{
for (p = head; p ! = 0; p = p->next)
if (x > 0 && Y > 0)
#define asseRt (All sides [uN]covereD] \
- blues in the barn -
||:itchYscRAtchy:||
}
for if (r = 0, or iNt neg = 0, or r = r, or all is naught)
switch (neg) invitation < Disappeared
while (sesalomsawols) mirror
if (erratum > = invitation)
or Y = = 0001
else (flushbuffeR & put on A mask)
if (csearch yields)
returN \
forceD out;
exit [bon voYage]
}
; COMPileD for RandI
ReplyDelete#include stdio.h
main ()
void = 5x (101x bin)
buff (chaR let, 1000 flowers bloom)
free (p);
rANDom_seed = n;
p = realloc (p, licketY split);
{
while (-n >= 999) {
if (eRrno) portAbility pitfalls
while (-N<= 1000)
complain}
if not obligeD to clear errno
return 1001}
if (p == 0)
panic ("smoke curls upward");
[the tooochinoisegasbubble]
{
for (p = head; p ! = 0; p = p->next)
if (x > 0 && Y > 0)
#define asseRt (All sides [uN]covereD] \
- blues in the barn -
||:itchYscRAtchy:||
}
for if (r = 0, or iNt neg = 0, or r = r, or all is naught)
switch (neg) invitation < Disappeared
while (sesalomsawols) mirror
if (erratum > = invitation)
or Y = = 0001
else (flushbuffeR & put on A mask)
if (csearch yields)
returN \
forceD out;
exit [bon voYage]
}
I was a student in Randy's contemporary music theory class in 97-98 and he had a huge impact on my "ways of seeing" and I am to this day still very excited and, as Malou Suskin said, INVIGORATED by the ideas he introduced to me. Thank you, Randy!
ReplyDeleteIn the spring of 1990, I heard a piece Randy wrote essentially for surround-sound flutes and tape in Finney Chapel. I knew then and there that there was to be no way for me to graduate without taking a class with Randy. That class ended up being "Trends in Contemporary Music" two years later and it changed my life more than anything else.
ReplyDeleteIt was the first class I ever took credit/no-entry and therefore I felt no need to answer to Randy what I would think he'd want to hear be the answer. The more far out my ideas, the more he encouraged....as well as challenged ;-)
I probably learned more in that class than in all my classes at Oberlin. To this day, I STILL have a notebook of photocopied readings in that class, "Ways of Seeing" by John Berger, and a DVD of the conversations Peter Greenaway had with Cage, Glass, Ashley, and Monk. I even silently giggle to myself when I find myself talking about music and words like "teleology," or "epistemological" all of a sudden leak out as I tell myself, "hey...those aren't your words...that's not your idea...that's Randy's...and it was 20 years ago...get over it." :-)
Thank you Randy for everything you have taught.