“What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.”
— Chief Crowfoot
This poetic quotation about the fleeting beauty of life by one of Alberta’s greatest First Nations chiefs inspired Red Deer-based composer/pianist Nicholas Howells to write a musical homage to Crowfoot that will be performed in Alberta and B.C. in the new year.
But it’s not going to be simple to take the powerful, avant-garde piece on the road.
Solo pianist Milton Schlosser, who commissioned the 11-minute Crowfoot work from Howells, will be busy pounding out a beat with a foot-activated drum, as he speaks in Cree, while playing divergent melody and rhythm lines on the piano.
If it sounds like a tricky challenge, it is, said a chuckling Howells, who’s been writing evocative classical compositions since before starting post-secondary music studies at Red Deer College.
But he’s confident his former University of Alberta music professor can do it justice.
Schlosser is described as a “phenomenal” player who appreciates how personal this work is to Howells.
He has already performed Crowfoot at the Canadian embassy in Tokyo — to a great reaction from the mostly Japanese audience.
Howells admitted that he didn’t plan to write a tune about Crowfoot, a member of the Blood tribe until he was adopted by the Blackfoot. Schlosser had wanted him to write something about his own Métis heritage, which includes Cree ancestors.
But dealing with his own history wasn’t easy.
Howells didn’t like to think of himself as Métis when he was a boy.
Although his best friend was Cree, Howells said he didn’t share his own part-aboriginal background with other people. “Growing up in Cremona, I was pretty far removed from that history. . . . And you know the kind of stereotyping that happens. I didn’t want anyone judging me. . . . When I was a kid, and even into my late teens, I wasn’t really wanting to accept it.”
But with Schlosser’s commission, the 29-year-old began exploring his own family tree — and his own feelings about it.
By researching the relatives who came before him, he began to appreciate a cultural aspect he once refused to acknowledge. “I came to terms with it. The whole project was an opportunity for some personal growth. . . .
“I was fortunate that people in my family held on to so much history,” added Howells, who began reading letters written by his Métis relatives on his dad’s side. One of his great-grandfathers even left a handwritten dictionary translating Cree and Beaver words into English.
Howells eventually discovered one of his forbearers crossed paths with Crowfoot. The Métis ancestor, John Cunningham, was trying to trade with the Blackfoot people, but experienced increasing tensions until Chief Crowfoot — who was renowned for being a peacekeeper as well as a warrior — stepped in to convince both sides to work together peacefully.
Reading Crowfoot’s quotation about life later sparked Howells’ imagination. It somehow aligned with his own philosophy of existence. Howells said the nature references especially resonated, since he grew up hiking in the foothills west of Cremona.
While Crowfoot was not Cree, Howells decided to translate his quote into the language of his own ancestors to symbolize the shared and interwoven history of Alberta’s aboriginal and Métis people.
The chief’s answer to the eternal question will be spoken by Schlosser during three performances of the work in February — in Vancouver, at Grande Prairie Regional College and at U of A’s Augustana campus in Camrose on Feb. 3. (More information is on his website www.miltonschlosser.com under News.)
Howells, who designed the foot-activated drum needed for the performance of Crowfoot, is “an extraordinary person,” who brings a unique voice to classical music because of his background and his “rigorous” compositional skills, said Schlosser.
“There are hardly any aboriginal composers, and the ones who do aren’t doing it in a classical way,” added the instructor, who admires his former student for his ability to write gentle, sensitive compositions, without sounding soppy or pop-py. . . .
“There’s a . . . hard-ass quality to his music. There’s substance to it and people are very responsive. They recognize there’s something deeper going on here.”
While Howells was influenced by the avant-garde American composer Frederic Rzewski, who also uses spoken-word elements in his compositions, Schlosser believes the Albertan’s music remains accessible to listeners because of Howells’ skill at alternating discord with melody.
Performing Crowfoot is a delight, added Schlosser, who believes the Japanese in Tokyo were “blown away” by the work. He hopes to perform it in Red Deer one day soon — “whenever I am invited.” In the meantime, Schlosser expects to post a video of himself playing the tune on YouTube in February.
Howells, who moved back to Red Deer a couple of years ago to teach music privately, has been composing since adolescence.
As a 17-year-old, he won the overall composition category at Edmonton’s Kiwanis Music Festival for a tune called Gateway to Avalanche Lake, which was inspired by an actual hike in the mountains.
Howells has two works in progress: his 25-minute Piano Sonata No. 1 and a shorter work called Metro-Forte. The latter was written during his late-night sessions on the Ross Street piano, which sits outdoors during the summer months, available to anyone who wants to play it.
On his way home after a gig with the local band Law of Lucid, Howells, who moonlights as a rock keyboard player, would sit for a while at the urban piano, composing Metro-Forte in the early hours.
“Sometimes cars would pass or people would walk by,” and he would incorporate these sounds into the composition, which starts off quietly, then begins pulsing with “downtown energy” about halfway through.
“It’s not exactly cars honking, but it gets jazzy,” said the composer.
While Howells took to the piano as a 14-year-old, it was his second attempt at the instrument. “My uncle started teaching me when I was nine but I never wanted to practise. It was pretty typical and my mom decided I could quit,” he recalled.
It was only when one of his sisters took up the piano a few years later that Howells found his attention wandering back to the keyboards.
He credits his CBC-Radio-listening mom, an aide for the disabled, and his information technologist father for their support — and understanding.
“For myself, if my mom had made me stick to (the piano), I don’t think I would have gotten into it,” said Howells, with a smile.
“Eventually I thought, maybe this is something I’d want to try again.”
lmichelin@www.reddeeradvocate.com