The Composer

There was once a talented composer. The music he wrote inspired others, and brought joy to all who would listen. As he progessed in skill, a university hired him to teach music composition. He would also continue to write new music for the university orchestra to perform.

The first few years were great. He taught and he composed. The orchstra performed his works and both became well-known and well-loved worldwide.

At some point he changed. He became lazy in his work, and his symphonies lost their sparkle. He put forth little effort and was content to release uninspired arias. But, being already famous, everyone still listened and applauded.

Eventually he grew to hate his job. His concertos were no longer passionate or joyful. He threw in notes and chords that sounded horrible. He twisted melodies until there was no musical flow. He, in short, made music as poorly as he could get away with. It was almost a game to him. How bad could he be and have people listen?

At first, the world still applauded. In fact, an intellectual few said his work was brilliantly unconventional and daring. It didn’t take many painful cadenzas, though, before his old fans stopped listening at all.

Soon, even the reviewers who had praised his brave new unmusical direction stopped paying attention.

With no beauty in his overatures, and no wonder in his sonatas, his popularity withered up and blew away. The university had no choice but to let him go.

Leaving behind a legacy of spoiled etudes, he hung his head in shame.

• Am I the man?
• Have I become complacent in talent or circumstance?
• Worse yet, have I done wrong and hoped that I could escape consequence?
• Is this the end of his story?