As a composer, the first decision I have to make concerns process. The first note of Slippery Slope was put to paper only after I had the whole second movement in mind — at that time, this was the one and only movement. And it was not until I had almost finished the movement that I developed ideas about the third movement, and the first, chronologically.

There are several different levels or definitions interpreted about “slippery slope” in the piece. While the second movement, or the main movement explores various relationships between two different musical personalities (one rigid and angular, the other lyrical and emotional), and constrains every possible growth from developing into a final climax until the very last moment, the third movement offers the audience straightforward and undisguised excitement with the partially humorous, partially passionate journey as it takes so much effort to arrive at the peak (the second movement is indeed the longest) before slipping down the slope. Consider the first movement as a mystifying preparation interrupted by several “trailers” — fragments from the subsequent two movements, that either reveal or obscure what will happen next.

Slippery Slope is dedicated to my mentor Glen Adsit, and is a gift to The Hartt Wind Ensemble, where I served as pianist during my undergraduate school time.