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So far my entire body of works is numbered at 35, with some of them either under construction or being revised (only a fraction of them is available at YC). Most of them are either orchestral or piano solo works, but chamber pieces have been steadily gaining ground. If I had to pick my better works, this would be pretty much what I'd list: Orchestral Pieces 1) Symphony N° 2 in D, Op. 17 (1997). This is an architecture-inspired piece composed at age 19 (to commemorate the centennial of Costa Rica's emblematic National Theather). It made its way into the finals of an international competition, and despite not winning, it was pointed out by the jury as "a work noteworthy for its outstanding quality". Unfortunately that didn't ever mean a premiere :( . I was never satisfied with its last movement, though, so I'm working in a "replacement". I might be a much better composer now (hopefully), but I'm still heavily attached to this piece, since it was the closest I've been to a breakthrough. 2) Aurora Suite, Op. 12 (1998). This piece means a lot to me, since it's the only one I've ever heard performed (by Costa Rica's National Symphony Orchestra), so it's much more about sweet memories. Following the "success" :dunno: of my Second Symphony, I was asked to write another orchestral piece for a workshop, and this was what I came up with. Of course, it had its technical flaws (owing mostly to the fact that I had to rely exclusively on handwriting and I had a pending deadline), but I was nevertheless praised by fellow composers (surprisingly, even by the staunchest local avant-gardists) and (especially) by the orchestra's musicians. In terms of personal growth, it helped me to discover and develop my penchant for colorful orchestration (on which I had already made some strides in the Second Symphony). In many ways it can be regarded as a "precursor" to the much later Adriana Suite. 3) Adriana Suite, Op. 27 (2011-12). Possibly the single piece by me most YC members are likely acquainted with (especially its Waltz, which I'm currently revising). My personal favorites are its last two movements. As I previously commented, I'm very likely to expand Adriana into a full ballet. 4) Overture in C# minor, Op. 20 (2006). I'm fond of this piece mostly because it was my first significative orchestral work since a long hiatus, and because it was also much more energetic and orchestrally "aggresive" than any of its predecessors. 5) Symphony N° 1 in D minor, Op. 13 (1994, rev. 2004). This was my first really meaningful orchestral piece, in four movements (composed when I was 16, extensively revised ten years later). I'm mostly fond of the third (a kind of Scherzo with a cinematic Trio), although I got favorable comments from music teachers about both the first movement's development section and the last's fugato fragment. Chamber Works 1) Piano Trio in G minor, Op. 16 (2004). I was already composing again when my aunt passed away due to cancer, and this is what I wrote in her memory. It's divided in two large sections, the second of which is a theme and variations. This latter part is what pleases me most, since I was able to twist the theme into a wide array of rhythms, tonalities and forms - even a palindrome - before a mourning final variation. 2) String Quartet in B minor, Op. 21 (2007). This one was written during my stay in Israel, and it draws on Israeli themes. It has only two movements as of now, but I feel it's still missing the middle slow movement. I'm not really a strong chamber composer, and I tend to believe this piece would work better re-arranged for string orchestra. 3) Music for Three Imaginary Children, Op. 19, for string orch. (2007). I'm very pleased with this musical joke, which is so far one of just two pieces I've written for this ensemble. 4) Souvenir from Pemberley, Op. 32 (2012). I had a lot of fun working on this piece, which I might expand into a second Piano Trio. Solo Piano Works 1) Piano Sonata N° 3 in C, Op. 23 (2003, rev. 2011-12). Despite its shortcomings, I'm pretty sure it's my best piano piece up to date. 2) Nocturne in G Minor, Op. 18 (2005-6, rev. 2011). This piece is possibly the best shot I have at a live recording as of now (thanks, Dina!!). This also introduced me to YC in late 2011. 3) Piano Sonata N° 1 in F, Op. 6 (1995). This one might probably be my earliest composition that I'm really pleased with, alongside with my First Symphony. Vocal Works My vocal output is nearly non-existent, save for a few lieder. But I'd single out two of them: 1) To Know Loneliness, Op. 24 N° 3 (2005). A work for middle voice (mezzosoprano, baritone) and piano solo, with (Spanish) lyrics provided by myself. I'm tempted to orchestrate it, though. 2) Jabberwocky, Op. 28 N° 1 (2012). This piece (based on Lewis Carroll's famed non-sensical poem) was composed almost as an afterthought - yet it ended up being surprisingly good, at least to me. It requires a chamber ensemble (piano, flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon) along with the voice. This piece has also a slim chance at a recording :thumbsup: ... I'll leave it like this for now, though it might change quickly - depending on how do the few projects I'm working at now eventually fare ;) .

I couldn't agree more. Far too much aesthetic emphasis is given to elevating the surface style of music - or indeed any other narrative artform; cinema, literature, even painting - above other deeper elements that are often more fundamental to making music music. Specifically, what a piece sounds like has only a limited role in defining its worldview and aesthetics, and often has the irritating side-effect of pigeon-holing it under some vague term as 'classical', 'romantic' and so forth. I've said this before but there are certain deep aspects of music that are common to almost all works even beyond the western classical tradition. Obviously we are writing in precisely this tradition and so can widen our aesthetic Venn diagram to include only things fundamental to it alone, but the point remains. What this means is that whilst they may sound very different, that squeaky modern piece you heard last week might actually have a lot in common with a Mozart quartet. It's of limited use to seperate the two in terms of compositional tecniques just because one is atonal and composed on a computer program and the other is based on decorating a functional harmonic pattern with a melody (if this is even how we should analyse Mozart). Perhaps finer study might reveal structural similarities, or that certain devices both composers use are intended to have the same effect or the same function, or even that the 'intensity curve', the narrative of the piece, is very similar. Another way to think of it is with a diverse group of dogs. They may all look very different - big, small, hairy, cute, aggressive - but they have a common ancestor and over 99% of their genes will be identical. So it is with music. Fundamentally, the elements that affect the listening experience are the same. What varies is the composer's choices regarding the deployment of these elements, for which there is great scope. What does this have to do with formal training? Firstly, it should be the responsibility of every composition pedagogue to emphasise this more fundamental aspect of musical creation and to regard surface style as being only of arbitrary interest. It is also as bad to only study the most modern avant-garde music as it is to ignore it completely. I remeber putting my hand up in a composition seminar entirely devoted to contemporary works and asking 'Is there anything we can learn from Haydn?' and getting a funny look and some dismissive answer from the lecturer. (Luckily my next teacher was more broad-minded). Teachers should ensire students see and understand as diverse a range of music as possible and most importantly introduce the idea that the vast majority of it is still relevant to the contemporary composer. Secondly, avoid labelling more than is neccessary as it will comporomise this view and encourage the student only to write in a 'contemporary' idiom (for which read a contemporary surface style). If I write a completely atonal piece using electro-accoustic overtone analysis but arranged the material in prototypical sonata form, is it a 'classical' or 'modernist' work? To ask the question 'why do all modern composers write is a modern style' is disingenuous: the answer is, they don't. What they do do is write using ideas and techniques borrowed from other musicians according to their own aesthetic choices, the end result of which eventually is labelled 'modern'. That should be your training.

Hi guyz, I saw this topic but just now I had time to actually withstand the 11 pages of nonsense. So let's get to it. I think the entire problem lies in that the answer to the thread's question is a question, "For what?" And also, of course, what the definition of "training" can be. Training can mean anything you do that relates to composition. Going to a concert is part of "training," for example, as it exposes you to the medium and gives you a chance to experience things first hand. Learning technical knowledge is also a type of training, as is learning to talk about your music and/or listening to others do it. For the question to be meaningful it's necessary to narrow down exactly what the person wants to do, before any kind of method can be looked into. For example, if someone wants to write symphonies in style of X composer, it's advisable then that the person seek out these compositions and study them (how is a different question altogether.) However it's only because there's already a set goal with defined parameters and stylistic guidelines that this is necessary. If the objective was something more abstract like "Write something that sounds good," as is more typical, it's possible that direct experimentation rather than specific technique study is much more valuable as a type of training. As this is a pedagogic question, it should be clear that different people require different methods and a single didactic approach can't hope to fit even a small minority of people, specially when it comes to something as vague as "teaching art." For this reason, then, let's look at the first post and formulate an answer that would fit the more exact parameters defined within the overall question: It's impossible to give a proper answer when it concerns potential, as it depends on too many factors that are unpredictable. Also, "formal training" is indistinguishable from simply knowing what you want to do and finding a method of accomplishing it, as I stated previously different objectives can be accomplished in different ways and it depends on the person what kind of approach works best. The importance of so-called "Formal" training here is the aspect of guidance, such as what I'm doing now, in terms of what methods the person may find useful in reaching their artistic objectives. It should be clear such guidance doesn't necessarily have to come from a teacher figure or an academic institution, it could be even a random suggestion on an internet forum (or reading history books, like he did when he cited Elgar's example.) As a closing thought, I think it goes without saying that none of this should concern itself with "quality" of whatever it is the person is trying to produce, but simply with the method by which they can reach a result they're happy with regardless of what it is.

Formal training is a valid aspect of becoming a better composer in my opinion. I am assuming that by formal training the question is asking if one should study in a university or under a professor. I just graduated from college and I don't think I would have been able to advance as far if I didn't have a professor pointing me in composition directions I might have otherwise ignored. When I started off, I was writing simply melodic tunes and convinced that I would only write Broadway music. This led me to be sort of close minded to any type of music that wasn't Sondheim or anything related to what's on Broadway in NY. However, my first semester I was pushed to listen to the basics of the basics (like Chopin and at the same time exploring modern music) and attend all the concerts that went on at my university. However, if I had not have had formal training, I would not have chosen to expand my brain in terms of what's out there. It was then when I could apply what I was learning into my own music. Lastly, any questions I have ever had regarding writing for instruments was easily answered instead of having to delve into a thousand books and websites to find the answer. That's not laziness, it's time efficiency with the addition of hearing personal experience writing for said instruments. My personal experience aside, I think composition professors have the potential to make or break a student. I've heard students say they lost their passion, but then when I listen to their music I see no growth or no willing to grow. That's not to say what they are doing is bad, but instead that it grows stale and all sounds the same. What if Chopin wrote 20 piano mazurkas that all had the same emotion and same theme? I am sure everyone would think he's a joke. This is what formal training does - it gives you options and expands your mind. However, if a professor isn't working for you, then you should simply switch or take the solo route; there's no real true answer on how to get better at composing or what is 'necessary' to become a proficient composer, but the number one thing that I feel is necessary is being open-minded which would make formal training a much more rewarding process. That's just my two cents. Also, style is a largely overrated aspect that I really learned I did not want to use when defining my own music. If my music sounds romantic, atonal, impressionistic, stupid-onal, etc. then that's up to the opinion of the listener. I write what I feel is vital to represent the music as music, not as something that suits a generalized genre. I understand why each specific style is important for history's sake, but I think professors want to tell their students that they should not be thinking 'style' when they write. I think every style is acceptable, but to be able to write in each style in order to mold a composer's own skillset is a skill that truly defines a composer's voice from someone who "wants to be a romantic composer."