An Ode to Working at Home is a narrative ambient work that maps the movement in 24 hours onto a 60 minute album. The album is both a story, albeit an uninteresting one, and an accompaniment. I was thinking a lot in quarantine about repetition. Well, for those of y’all who know me, I am always thinking about repetition. But I have been thinking about repetition in larger forms during my time at home and fell in love with accidentally doing the same thing every day. When conscious of it, it is awful. I am not one who loves seeing themself do the same thing over and over again. But I really loved realizing that when I wasn’t thinking, it felt as though my legs and my body would follow the same paths through my apartment.

When making an ode to something or someone, I feel that the center focus must be the subject. This comes with a problem when making an album about something as unobtrusive as working from home. If I made an album that was loud, or an album that was distracting, it ignores that many people are still in quarantine and therefore still working from home. If I tried to distract people from their work or lives at home, then I don’t think it would be a good ode. This is why I tried to make an accompaniment to working at home. Besides the vibraphone and waterphone, every other sound in the album could be and is heard throughout a typical day for most people (as for me both the vibraphone and waterphone are heard throughout the typical day). I tried to blend the album into the background in which the sounds of working at home can be confused with the sounds of the album. To listen to this album while standing still, while not working, is like listening to only the piano part of an aria. The soloist is you and your work. While I don’t really care how people listen to my music, the piece is designed to be listened to in a particular way, if that is something that the listener cares about. I encourage this listener to put this album on when you work. Don’t worry about missing the details, they aren’t that important. If you find that the album is too distracting, then I would encourage turning it off as work is more important. Finally, I find, especially in quarantine, that joy is something chosen. Chosen joy is not as fun as spontaneous joy, but it keeps you going. I hope that in this album, that you can choose to enjoy one aspect of your day during this awful time.


I want to thank my friends who helped me make this album: Alia Reza, Maria Alejandra Bulla, and Conner Shaw. They each composed the works/words featured on this album. Without them I would have never been able to get this done. I encourage everyone to check out their works individually. All of them have been an inspiration and some of the best support a person could ask for. Thank you.

I want to thank my percussion studio. This studio has been made up of some of the most creative, interesting, caring, lovely people in my life. Continuously, through my rough weeks and good weeks, this studio has been there for me. Eric Lennartson, Kristyna Svihalkova, Margo Harms, and Morgan Alford thank you for always being a support throughout these two years and making just the most inspiring art. And of course, a good studio is built by a great mentor who challenges and critiques but also loves and cares about their students and their music. It is through this that growth is possible. Thank you Tim, for making me a better student, a better teacher and a better musician.

Finally, I want to say thanks to my family, especially Corinna who has had to deal with me the most during the quarantine. Thank you for listening over and over again. Thank you for being there for me after every freak out. Y’all have helped me in uncountable ways.