Two Kinds of Music

A few years ago I took to saying that there are only two kinds of music, good music and bad music. Little did I know that Steve Earle had already said the same thing in 1988 at a live show at the Town and Country in London. I’m glad for him to have the credit, though. At any rate, shortly after I started saying this, I started getting into different genres, and I even joined a rock band. This added several dimensions to my musical life, and I don’t think I knew I had it in me.

Previously this blog focused strictly on “classical” music, but with my expanded horizons, I’m going to be branching out on here, discussing not only classical music and  my own work but also outlaw country, EDM, rock n roll, and maybe a few other genres. I’ll do my best to make sure it’s all good music. Style is important, but I don’t think it should be an impediment to the enjoyment of music. In any case, I’ll be sure to tag and label posts appropriately so that the site is easy to navigate, should some readers wish to keep up on some subjects but not others.


Calvin Hampton: An American Genius

Originally published in the Broad St. Review on November 4, 2014.


I was improvising at the organ a few weeks ago when I realized I was emulating Calvin Hampton, specifically his composition In Paradisum, which employs an eerie polytonality. This isn’t unusual. I’ve been accused of composing like Hampton before.

“I went to school with Calvin. He was a genius,” one of my teachers told me. “We didn’t even bother to be jealous of him, since he was head and shoulders above everyone else.”

Combining the incompatible

Hampton dared to take musical chances. While the results are uneven, his better compositions deserve a place in the repertoire. One of his greater successes was the establishment of a Fridays at Midnight organ recital series at his church in Gramercy Park during the ’70s and ’80s. His rock band, Sevenfold Gift, gave the earliest of these concerts. Adding to the unconventional approach, he’d use flashing lights with the music and invited audiences to lie down while they listened.

He was not afraid to combine two seemingly incompatible things. Apparently even his concert programming demonstrated this, with stylistic “right turns” that dashed many listeners’ expectations for a chronological program order. Instead of going from Baroque to Classical to Romantic, he paired pieces from disparate styles, using Bach as the centerpiece rather than the opener. In a sense, he was the inventor of the iPod shuffle manner of listening to music.

More than this, Hampton played organ transcriptions and advocated symphonic style organs at a time when such endeavors were considered passé. The mid-20th century saw the rebirth of the putative classical organ and historical performance practice, which are more suited to early music, but he wasn’t afraid to buck this trend. “He could just sit down and play a symphony from the full score. He had that kind of talent,” one friend of mine reports.

Saying what he had to

He was not merely a shock artist, though. Calvin Hampton broke molds because they couldn’t help him say what he had to say. His unique sense of melody, rhythm, and tonality, albeit not as distinct as Messiaen’s, makes his music instantly identifiable as his. Angular, disjunct melodies, sometimes playful, sometimes sweet, were one of his favorite toys, along with offbeat rhythms that grew out of “added” eighth notes — a device that many modern ears, accustomed to monotonous pop music, find annoying. Yet if there were an organist on Earth you’d see playing pop music, it would probably have been Calvin Hampton.

While Hampton was still alive, Erik Routley called him “the greatest living composer of hymn tunes,” and his biographer, Jonathan B. Hall, notes the rock influence on his hymn melodies de Tar and St. Helena. Not everyone loves his music, though. I once attended a concert at which There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy, using the tune St. Helena, was sung. Although the building was filled with the musically inclined, the audience stumbled through the hymn, to many grumbles. But original minds like Hampton’s are not meant for ordinary audiences, and full acceptance often doesn’t come until the artist is safely dead.

Unfortunately, Calvin Hampton’s demise came all too quickly. He died 30 years ago, an early victim of the AIDS epidemic. In spite of his short life, he left a treasure of music behind him that goes far beyond the confines of organ and church music, one that can truly be called American.

I’m not at all ashamed to be accused of trying to imitate him.


Two Pieces for Solo Organ

Here are two organ solo pieces I finished this year:

Aria and Dance

For Solo Organ

135 measures

A soaring solo melody gives way to a multimeter dance in the middle section, before returning to the aria and ending with a tag.




Trumpet Tune in E-flat

For Solo Organ

161 measures

Somewhat like David Johnson’s music in its main theme, this piece, in rondo form, breaks into a difficult scherzo in the B section and a flute aria in the C section, giving it diverse means of expression.




Email me at hocket [at] gmail [dot] com, with the selections you’d like to buy, along with the number of copies you will print out, and I’ll send you an invoice, along with my address so you can mail a check. I’ll deliver the composition in PDF.