Context/digression:
I do not recall the exact circumstances of my meeting musicologist Susan McClary in the early 80s. Then a professor at the University of Minnesota, she was, for a time, an ardent supporter of my work. Though ensconced in the academy, her attitude was, at the time, and concordant with mine, decidedly anti-establishment. (At one of my concerts, she presented me with a paperback book of cartoons entitled “True Paranoid Facts”. Dated January 30, 1983, her inscription reads “There were hundreds of Early Music Queens stuffed into House of Hope this afternoon, paying big bucks to hear the latest in Brandenburg Concerto performances. I was almost among them — but then recoiled in horror at the door itself & beat a hasty retreat [through swarms of organists and recorder players who regard me as the local expert], joyful in the realization that I could hear Milo Fine tonight instead x x Paranoid Fact #1, with [indicipherable] From-The-Jaws-of-Death episode. Susan”.) Conversations with her were enlightening, providing evidence as to what I had long suspected concerning the often sordid underbelly of classical music. Ms. McClary pointed out how the work of various baroque, romantic, etc. composers had/has been dumbed down/diluted by interpreters and conductors in order to make it more palatable to audiences to say nothing of the ego driven need to put a stamp/spin on music written by composers who obviously weren’t able to raise any objections. She was also adamant that, in order to authentically realize music from past centuries, an understanding the nature of notation endemic of the time period in question was paramount. (Simultaneously, for more accurate realizations, practitioners should have a grasp of the social milieu in which it was created.) In addition to attending concerts, and the aforementioned in-depth conversations, Ms. McClary gave me the opportunity to conduct a master class. For a willful non-academic (in the traditional sense) like me, such validation was was as unexpected as it was appreciated.

But, as suddenly as her support began and flourished, communications from her ceased; if memory serves, not that long after she gave me the inscribed book. Though I had theories as to what might have caused this rift, I honestly didn’t know. A relatively short time later, I came across possible evidence; her published interview with the conductor of the Minnesota Orchestra wherein he bluntly stated the reality that the Orchestra was a business, implying if not saying outright that all considerations (including aesthetics) were governed by that fact. What surprised me that she did not question or challenge that assessment. In fact, she seemed to have embraced it; the rebel perhaps having come to her senses.

The rippling:
Three decades later, during the construction of Studio Toile D’Angles, Michael, one of the sub-contractors heard me drumming in the adjacent house basement, and realized he had been in the McClary class for my presentation. In one of several conversations, I showed him the book inscription and he told me he thought he still had notes he had taken during that class. If he could find the notes, I said I’d be most interested to see them. Some months later, he did indeed find them and brought them by in tandem with doing some punch list work in the Studio. Much like my revisiting the 1979 PBS series “Jazz: An American Classic” in which I was featured (thanks to Erkki Huovinen, who managed to locate and copy DVDs of the series found in the University of Minnesota library), Michael’s notes underscored the consistency of the motivations guiding my lifework from then (and earlier) until now.

A decade or so after that (September, 2024), I received an e-mail from one Brad Kissell (aka Bradford Dean): “ Hi, Milo. Way back in the [late 70s/early 1980], when I was at the U of M, I remember seeing you in a class performance. It made quite an impact, and I keep saying I need to see you in live performance again one of these days. In the meantime, I wrote and recorded a fun little ditty in my home studio about you and your music. It’s not meant to begin to capture the essence of what you do, but merely suggest the unique quality of your music. Anyway, I thought I’d share it with you.”

The “ditty” is certainly whimsical, but the lyrics and, indeed the structure display a certain insight into my process/work which I find quite startling, particularly given that Brad’s only exposure to my music dates back 4+ decades.

I asked Brad if he was amenable to my sharing the piece on my website (and if so, I would provide the accompanying text for his approval). As evidenced, he was, and, in return, asked that I include the following credit:

“Milo Fine State of Mind (Hypnotic Chaotic)” was written, performed and copyrighted by Bradford Kissell (aka Bradford Dean). More of his art and music can be found on his website: bradfordkissell.art