It is always a pleasure to write a work with specific musicians in mind, and for me never more so than in this particular case. Violinist Joseph Lin had been concert master for the world premiere of my ballet suite Pyramus and Thisbe, and executed the many difficult and lengthy solos with astonishing polish and panache. I later approached him about writing a sonata for him. He agreed, but wanted something other than the traditional sonata combination of violin and piano. We discussed several other possible instruments. I then remembered that Concert Artists Guild, who represents Joseph, had just added a young percussionist to their roster: Svetoslav Stoyanov. I suggested we contact him about the project.

Svetoslav responded with great enthusiasm, and so, with a commission and premiere generously provided by the Arizona Friends of Chamber Music, a new duo for violin and percussion was born. The work is dedicated to the both Joseph and Svetoslav.

As the title suggests, this work is structured as a wedge, starting out quietly and ending with a raucous bang. But the inclusion of a meditation at one end and a bacchanal at the other was also intended to alert the listener that my tongue is firmly planted in my cheek. This Meditation is more about the attempt to meditate than the actual act. The percussion part is divided into two distinct groups: a set of 4 mixed cymbals of the percussionist’s choosing, and three tuned gongs. The cymbals represent the intrusion of the real world into the meditative process, the gongs represent the meditative state. The many appearances of the mantra, after the opening solemn statement from the violin, range from angry to pleading to comic, as the violin struggles to find some peace. The appearance of the waterphone at the end of the movement represents not so much a meditation as some kind of compromised state-of-mind.

A rhapsody — the title of the second movement — is usually thought of as a musical work, but the word actually comes from a Greek word meaning “to recite epic poetry.” This seems apt, since the movement does contain a vague narrative (although I’m not entirely sure what it is). The violin part is marked “bluesy” at the very start, which suggests this poem is perhaps more mundane than epic. Emphasizing the bluesy character is that the violin and marimba never quite agree on a key: when one is in the major mode, the other is in minor.

Early in 2004 Svetoslav demonstrated the Bulgarian tapan to me, the instrument featured in the last movement, Bacchanal. The tapan looks like nothing more than a smallish, primitive bass drum, but once he began playing I was immediately struck by his joyous, boisterous energy, and taken aback by the large range of sounds the instrument can produce. The image of Svetoslav playing the tapan stayed with me while writing this movement, and inspired the title.