Justin Rubin writes music that is direct and witty, speaks to the mind, heart, and soul, engages with notes and rhythms that matter, and does so clearly yet matter-of-factly. His music is connected to the past, through his relationship to the organ tradition and—in a surprising juxtaposition—to the memory of his engagement with the avant-garde.
Justin Rubin grew up in New York City. He is a polymath who was an extraordinary organist at a young age, having been awarded a Fulbright for study of that instrument in the Netherlands and landing a major church job in the City in his twenties. All the while he wrote music, finally studying at SUNY/Purchase with Dary John Mizelle and then with me at the University of Arizona. (I swore awhile back that I would never write about my students but have recently decided: Why should they be penalized for having studied with me? I mean, it really isn’t their fault!) He now teaches in that cultural mecca of the U.S------Duluth, MN!---and has been on the faculty of the University of Minnesota/Duluth for almost twenty years. I say this with a little mirth, but also only to demonstrate that good music can come from anywhere. Bach hung out in pretty back water towns but did okay with the pen and paper, producing a cantata a week (a week!) not to mention innumerable children (remember-no television). It would appear he wrote from left to right hardly stopping. Like Mozart, perhaps he heard the entire piece in his head before ever starting. Or maybe once he got into the zone he never left it.
Rubin was prolific as a student, coming each week to lessons with a brand new piece pretty much in finished form. The music, like other prolific composers (e.g. Telemann, Vivaldi, Milhaud, Glass), was of varying quality. Sometimes the ideas were interesting, sometimes not. It came in many styles as if Rubin were trying on different coats to see which fit best. He is very smart, but also very musical. He was performing and recording the music of Xenakis, most of which left me cold. (I had performed Anaktoria with Musical Elements, my New York-based contemporary ensemble, and found that sufficient for that composer to last a long time.) When he discovered I was writing a Piano Concerto for Andre-Michel Schub and a consortium of orchestras, and that it was pretty much in the key of A Major, he had a hard time not smirking. At his age I probably would have as well.
In the last fifteen years or so Rubin’s voice has become smooth and defined. He remains prolific, has written a slew of chamber music, much of it in small forms and of limited duration, and mostly for friends and colleagues. On the four discs I sampled, pieces are usually between three and ten minutes, with the average right around six. This is all to say that he gets in and gets out, says what he has to say, and then “fertig” (finished)! His sensibility ranges from witty to slightly nostalgic, from completely self-contained to variations on pre-existent hymns. For the most part this is music that is ear and mind grabbing. His new tonal language makes sense and the music breathes in a most human way. Like a good wine, the music has a nice aftertaste, and it comes in easy-to swallow gulps. The pacing is excellent and development keen.
One finds exciting and new instrumental combinations. For example: Bagatelles for bassoon and marimba, or Hockett in your Pocket for bassoon and percussion (yes, every piece on one disc is for bassoon and one other instrument!) This is music without a political agenda or puffery and is perfect for our fractured time. Check out his stuff on disc on the MSR, Innova, and Centaur labels. You could find it online as well, but there is better fidelity on the CDs and besides, it helps keep these little guys in business, which is a righteous thing to do.