Together, we decide to divide the piece into four distinct sections, each with a different mood. Each part will be about two minutes long, so it feels almost like writing four different pieces of music. “I think I’ll call it Etude in B minor,” I tell him after a while. He rolls his eyes. “What a cop-out,” he says. I just laugh and play the intro again. Dad picks up his flute and plays along. When I stop, he continues, and I like what I hear. “Hey, can you do that again?” I ask, reaching for a pencil and the music score. He plays something, but it’s not the same. “No, exactly like you did it the first time.” He tries again, but still it’s not right. “Dad!” “I’m trying, I’m trying.” Eventually he gets it, or something close to it, and I’m satisfied. I play it on the piano after I’ve recorded it on the page. Dad gives me a few pointers on how to use his computer program, Logic Pro, for music composition. I try to imagine which instrument in the orchestra would have the best “voice”
