RESUME and C.V.
SHORTER BIO:
Born in 1958, Keith Lay's early music experience was supported by strong school programs that offered respected teachers, private lessons and a loaner instrument (tenor saxophone) to kids from low income families. His passion for modern classical music grew out local LP cut-out bins that contained revered recordings of Ives, Crumb, Varese and Hindemith. Beginning serious composition at 15, Mr. Lay had already composed many works for piano, winds, jazz band and symphonic band ensembles when he entered the University of Akron's Firestone Conservatory of Music in 1976. He acquired both a Bachelor and Master of Music degrees in Music Composition with David S. Bernstein and Electronic Music techniques with Ralph Turek. During his mid-twenties, Mr. Lay taught Electronic Music (Moog, ARP, tape), Music Theory I and Introduction to Music Theory as an adjunct professor at the University of Akron.
His commercial music career began with 12 radio and TV spots for the Akron Zoo and over the next several years established himself as a skilled, technically savvy custom music producer in Northern Ohio. In the late 80's Keith had also developed a healthy clientele list as a Synclavierist and producer for Kopperhead Studios, a commercial music house in North Canton. These production skills brought him to the attention of Full Sail Real World Education (now Full Sail University) in Winter Park, Florida where Mr. Lay taught "Tapeless Studio" production skills. In 1991 he was given the Music History course and designed a curriculum to introduce his students to a wide world of music:Classical, Folk, Country, Blues, Gospel, Jazz, Rock, Pop, Broadway, Soul, Funk, Jamaican, Metal, Punk, Hip Hop, Industrial, Death Metal, Performance Art, World Music and Electronica styles to thousands of students. His students' passion for music reignited his activity as a composer, beginning with "Earth Caoine", which was recorded and released on CD by Richard Stoltzman and the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra, and quit his commercial music endeavors.
While not prolific in number, Keith Lay's work benefits from seeking a well balanced life through skillful living as a father to his children Christopher, Emily and Brendon, a good husband to Joy, a good leader at Full Sail University, a good listener to his students and an attempt to engage in all that life has to offer. Thus, his music is an expression of life - but not the center of his life.
The New York Times raved his Lincoln Center premiere and hailed him as 'a composer to watch for' in 2004. Grammophone Magazine called his Stoltzman recording "unapologetically emotional". Beyond the honor of having his music performed by so many great musicians and given time by numerous listeners around the world, Mr. Lay has been thrice awarded Full Sail's top awards for teaching (Top Gun 1995, Outstanding Educator 2001, Artistic Achievement 2005) and twice awarded a United Arts of Central Florida grant, as well as a Florida Artist Fellowship and Margaret Jory Fairbanks grants. He is a founding judge of the Young Composers Challenge competitions, and has received a certificate of appreciation from the National Recording Academy as a teacher and audio engineer.
LONG BIO:
(note) I don't think I'm so important that these details really matter in their connection with me but, they are important in their connection with you, in case you are a composer, too. After reading John Adams autiobiography Hallelujah Junction, I realize that my story might be similar to other composers' stories and may have some value to another artist. The details of where we come from connects us. The choices I've made and not made as I moved through my life may be instructive to some younger composer or familiar to an older composer. Added to that, recalling and writing down a composing life is clarifying and empowering. These are the reasons I set these ideas down.
(b.1958, Barberton, OH) My mom's parents were refugees from the deepest Applalachia, who left the childhood labor in coal mines and hard times for a bright future in Barberton, Ohio. My mom's dad, who's only schooling came from his tenure as a soldier in the 1st Army in WWI, taught himself to read and became a certified operator of huge steam boilers that heated factories. Their family was full of love and optimism for good work. My granddad's family came from a small Kentucky tobacco farm, who moved to Akron to start a floor polishing business that serviced the burgeoning rubber factories. My dad grew up in the tough side of town, a short and muscular scrapper who gained respect for his quick mind and hook. My parents were opposites, and from opposite kinds of families; maybe that's why they fell in love. Dad found his talent in building beautiful and unique homes and eventually started a construction business. Mom sold clothes at Marshalls, one of the more fashionable stores in Barberton, until the babies started arriving. My identical twin brother Kevin and I arrived on Valentine's Day, 1958. That was about the time my Dad's business reached its peak. We lived in a beautiful home he built on Calaboone Rd.in Doylestown,then.He had a boat on Portage Lakes, a small plane, a Hudson Hornet and a dedicated, trophy wife. All I remember of those days was laying on the floor listening to music on the HiFi. Based upon the record collection that survived, it consisted of swing era dance music, Dixieland, Mambo and lots of classical favorites. Then, Dad's business began to fall apart. His financial house of cards that produced construction of more than 50 homes began to fall apart. Dad was overspending and not paying bills. My youngest brother arrived in 1960, for a total of six boys.
Over the next several years, we moved from house to house, town to town until the eviction notices came. I saw little of my father: Mom was everything. We moved to 183 Parkview in Wadsworth - a wonderful place with a backyard that joined the town park. Surrounded by miles of farms, this quaint town had a population of about 5000. The town square sported flags, military statues, a movie theater, a couple of ice-cream stands, it's own school system, an above ground concrete swimming pool, baseball diamonds, churches and mom and pop grocers, a hobby shop - and a friendliness (and wariness) to kids that can only be found in a small town. On Memorial Day parades, the local pilots would fly tree-top level formations over the town, local politicians and business owners waved from shiny convertibles, and war veterans solemnly carried the national flag. The high point, besides the planes, was definitely the high school band - the drums made my body sing and the loud melody and chords were ecstatic. It was the kind of place people didn't lock their doors, and the big crimes in town were occasional teen vandalism (probably from my older brothers...) The big employer of the town was the BlueTip Match company who abandoned a mysterious large factory with a round,red brick smokestack you could see for miles, hidden in 'our' woods. We spent so many glorious long summer days playing and exploring. Our favorite game was 'War' where the six of us and neighbors would stealthily crawl through the woods floor clutching pretends guns. The point was to get close enough that, when you made your cool gun sound, that there'd be no question as to whether your enemy was hit - dying in a most dramatic way was an art form. I clearly recall Kevin and I walking home from our half-day at kindergarten to find the TV on and mom crying. JFK was assassinated. Several months later another pivotal event fixed clear in my memory occurred. We watched the February 9th broadcast of the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show. "I Want to Hold Your Hand" took my heart away! My older brothers Rob and Denny were collecting single 45rpm records now - and I remember some of the ones I liked:"Ticket to Ride" and "Hello, Hello" by the Beatles, "Just a Little Bit Better" and "Henry VIII I Am" by Herman's Hermits, "Red Rubber Ball" by The Cyrkle and "Downtown" by Petula Clark. Dad was trying to relaunch his business as Mark Homes and Mom was selling Beeline clothes at Beeline parties. Unknown to me was the news that Dad was reaching too far with too little in his business, and, again things were going wrong, but this time, his stress manifested crime, domestic violence, drinking and an aloofness with us kids. The divorce came in 1966 - then a rare occurrence. Dad was sent to prison for fraud and mom was left to find a way to take care of us six kids, ages 6 to 16, with no job and a now disreputable last name in our little town.
Mom found a job as a line worker in a hot, loud Akron plastic injection press factory called Akro-Mills. She'd spend years standing all day in an overheated over-loud shop in Barberton to come home to a messy house full of hungry 6 to 16 year old boys. We moved to a tiny old 1bed/1bath house on the end of North Avon Street on the edge of town. My oldest 2 brothers shared the bedroom. The rest of us kids shared the living room. Mom slept in the garage. There was no central heating, just two gas wallmounted space heaters: one in the bathroom and a broken one in our room. It would get so cold in winter that the kitchen sink might be covered with a layer of ice like the puddles outside. We helped Mom scrub and paint the little ugly house into a friendly home - bursting with life. We planted a garden, kept layers of blankets, and miraculously had enough to eat. We spent much of our time outside exploring the woods and ravines on this side of town, or watching TV. That same year, as a 3rd grader, I began as a 'helper' for a boy I met in Boy Scouts with a paper route on Parkview, Ringer and Westgate Streets and started to earn money. Carrying bags full of papers was an enormous chore for an 8 year old. Kev and I'd pick our papers up on College St. and lug them every afternoon and every Sunday dawn. What seemed impossibly hard eventually became easy - and helped make us really fit. A few years later, my next older brother, Randy, got a route north of our neighborhood delivering Franks,West, Bicksler and Tolbert. By age ten, I 'bought' my route and later sold it to Kevin to stop for a year or so. I later helped Randy, and eventually took over his route and continued to deliver Akron Beacon Journals until I graduated from High School. By 7th grade everyone grew taller, including the girls, and I was no longer first and fastest in the gym. The routes taught me a great deal: every-day business related responsibilities, serving with my customers and collecting my bill every week from them. Most importantly, that work kept me outside for hours every day after school: rain, shine, snow or ice. They gave my musical imagination lots of space to be inspired by the sky and a feeling for the seasons and the out of doors. The routes also gave me confidence around adults.
The next year, 1967, my twin brother Kevin and I enjoyed our musical debut: playing a duet of "Little Bird" on two steel drums. I remember that we couldn't take the drums home to practice with, but were furnished instead with a full size drawing of the drums on cardboard, upon which we practiced with pencils. I don't know how we pulled it off, really. The concert went off without a hitch, and thankfully, the stage lights didn't allow us to see the audience - it was scary enough to play in front of the class! Boy, was mom surprised at that concert. We also learned 'melody flutes' in that 4th grad class. Randy joked that they were pipes with holes and a whistle in them: because that's all they were. I loved playing that little instrument. We learned note reading, and my favorite song to play was "Over the Sea to Skye".
School was everything good to Kevin and I. We were bright and excited learners and most of our teachers really loved us. We received lots of attention because of our identical twin-ness. In the cafeteria at Isham Memorial School in the summer of '67, all of us 5th graders were introduced to the band instruments by a man who would become important in my life: Bob Cole. He was a professional reed man in northern Ohio, and the elementary and middle band school teacher. Much later, I realized Mr. Cole was short and had one leg significantly shorter than the other causing him to walk with a penguin-like sway - but, to me, he was simply awesome (and always will be). He taught me to read music. There was no way we could afford new instruments, or to rent like the other kids, but, since my older brothers Rob and Denny previously tried band for a while, we had a couple of used instruments at home I'd never seen: a trumpet and an alto saxophone. I chose the saxophone. It was beautiful: a dark brass finish with pearl keys and lots of pearled filigree of the Alexandre imprint from Italy. Eventually, I realized that it was quite a poor instrument, but learning on that horn made my embouchure stronger just to make it play. Kevin and I almost always held first chair. Bob Cole gave us lessons in the morning once per week. Learning the notes was easy and I jumped far ahead. We never practiced, and had a great time in band. I remember our first band sound, which I found overwhelmingly thrilling. Looking back, I don't know if anyone else felt that way except maybe Kevin. Our first song was "Tick Tock Crazy Clock" or something like that. I loved the sounds.
Kevin, and I were (are) lovers of science and seekers of knowledge, and spent a lot of free time studying religion, philosophy and history in the Public library. I spent a huge amount of time studying chemistry, imagining myself as a great scientist when I grew up. I loved everything science - always burning, mixing, magnifying, observing and exploding. Our brightness at school combined with our thick eyeglasses gave us a reputation of being nerds before the word was invented. Drawn to spiritual things, I began walking to the United Methodist Church downtown by myself after the route was delivered. Soon, Kevin joined me - and later, Mom.
Most of our route money as kids was spent on plastic model kits. We Lay boys, like many of our generation, could identify war and experimental aircraft from any country, tell you their impact in which wars, and detail their armament, crew, speed and maneuverability. The same thing with cars. We fell in love with sports cars after playing a Milton Bradley board game called LeMans. By the time we were in our teens, our home contained literally hundreds of these kits, all carefully displayed in our crowded bedrooms. It's curious how young men identify with their 'favorites' if they are well versed in their respective lore. I still remember so many details of my favorite planes and cars. This love of aircraft and automobiles is still strong in me. I love the sound of prop planes, especially the old radial engines and am mesmerized by air shows featuring military aircraft. And I still love automobile engineering and feel high excitement at auto races and seeing great models and exotics.
A major event in my young life came with our first record player in our house: a portable mono that would play 4 speeds. Mom had a slew of records from the late 50s we heard as infants. I loved the Prez Prado, Rogers and Hammerstein, Glen Miller and light classical favorites in her collection. After overplaying the family collection, we began to shop for records at Merriman's Hobby Shop where we bought our model kits. It also sported a back room full of black lights, posters, lava lamps and 45rpm singles for 50cents. But, the 'new' Ben Franklin on Main Street sold LPs. For some very bizzare reason, there were more unpopular classical cut-out there than anyone can possibly explain: Edgard Varese, Charles Ives, Paul Hindemith! It was perfect ground for Kevin and I, who were becoming more adventurous listeners. That's when we discovered Charles Ives. Neither Kevin or I would ever be the same. The recordings mezmerized me and I would spend hours with my ear to the speaker to suck out every detail of sound. Once, I was so thrilled with hearing the saxophones and trumpets on Mom's big band jazz records that I took a pile of them into my 7th grade General Music Class. From the front of the room, I gleefully pointed out to the class instruments when they surfaced in the arrangements as they played. I called out kids in the band who were in our class to share the joyful identification with 'their' instrument. Eventually, I caught on that what I was doing was extremely embarrassing and over-the-top weird. It was the first time I realized that music was really not that important to my friends, and, for that matter - most people. But, I knew how I felt when I played big jazz chords, quintal and quartal harmonies on the piano - my spirit would soar with Ives "Three Harvest Home Chorales" and Hindemith's "Mathis der Mahler". There was no question as to the importance of music in my life.
1972 was Kevin and my first year of high school, and my closest friends were part of the band, led by Art Baldwin, aka "Sarge", a trumpet player. Sarge was a gem. Somehow he played pro gigs throughout Northern Ohio (at everything from pit bands for circuses, burlesques, dixieland jams, and backing big names as a hired gun) and showed up to teach teenagers every morning. He was bald, fit, and a former Marine Drill Sergeant. Nobody messed with Sarge, especially teenagers!
(in progress writing) View the elements in my personal library ,/a>
