The har­monies for this piece wrote them­selves one day in response to some instruc­tions I gave my com­put­er. The results were very real­is­tic, inas­much as they often, but not always, sucked. They were nev­er tru­ly ran­dom, but were just con­sis­tent enough to fos­ter the hope that they might even­tu­al­ly do some­thing nice.

This piece is some­thing quite dif­fer­ent from that orig­i­nal pro­gres­sion. I have cut and prod­ded the mate­r­i­al into some­thing that approx­i­mates famil­iar musi­cal form, and I have imag­ined a man­ner of per­for­mance for the oboe and cel­lo that is so emphat­i­cal­ly atyp­i­cal that we might have a chance of sus­pend­ing our dis­sat­is­fac­tion with the per­func­to­ry harmony.

Irony, bad taste, fear, and inex­pert­ness are all top­ics here, but they are red her­rings. At the heart of this piece is a sim­ple hope for acceptance.