To The End of 2020

I hope you all are having a happy and socially distanced holiday season! As we all eagerly look towards a much anticipated new year, I wanted to jot down some thoughts about this year. Needless to say, we have all become so numb and exhausted by 2020 that it has become the butt of jokes, cynical tweets, and nihilistic holiday cards. In short, it has become one giant eye roll. But I fear that because this year has been so emotionally draining, we have turned to laughing it off rather than fully absorbing what this year has been.

There has been a nearly incomprehensible level of loss and suffering throughout the world and especially here in the states this year. Loss of lives, livelihoods, homes, businesses, and food. We are still, even when vaccines are being shipped to every corner of this country, loosing roughly 3,000 Americans a day. One September 11th a day. We anticipate a bill from Congress that will keep people in their homes (for at least the next month) and that will put some cash into the hands of those that are barely getting by. I’m afraid that due to our country’s glaring lack of leadership, we have been unable to truly grieve as one. To truly come together after a brutal election and mourn for the incalculable losses we have endured.

But many of us haven’t had to endure much this year and for that, we are nothing more than lucky. Those of us who haven’t lost a loved one during this pandemic, who haven’t gone to bed hungry, who haven’t worried about how to afford rent payments, and who haven’t had to look for steady work are simply lucky. If you are so fortunate, please consider donating what you can to a local or national charity or organization of your choice on behalf of those who have bore the brunt of this truly terrible time. For what it’s worth, two organizations I’m happy to say I have some affiliation with is Bloomington, Indiana’s Community Kitchen and the National Low-Income Housing Coalition. I’ve been volunteering during the morning shift at the Community Kitchen since this summer with my partner Max. Even in a small college town like Bloomington, the Kitchen is serving roughly 1,000 meals a day and encampments of folks suffering from homelessness has increased in Seminary Park. This level of inequality existed long before the pandemic and Covid-19 has essentially poured gasoline on an already blazing fire. The ripple effects from this catastrophe will be felt for decades. We need to start building back as soon as possible.

Here’s to 2020, for being the great teacher and forcing us to see what desperately needs to change in our world and to 2021 and onward, when we get what we have learned and put it into action.

Everything Must Go

Though in the light of recent political events, the title Everything Must Go is in no relation to the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. However, the piece is about the finality of all things; that all things come to an end in the long term.

The piece itself was commissioned to be for the seemingly new ensemble that arose out of the pandemic; the “makeshift” adaptable wind ensemble. Because most schools are having students enter at sporadic times, it’s nearly impossible to perform works for full fledged wind ensemble. So the piece can be played by a wide variety of wind instruments (whatever you got) in either a chamber music setting or as a large (socially distant) ensemble. In all honesty, the compositional process of this piece is more closely aligned to solving a crossword puzzle; there are so many constrictions baked into the “makeshift” ensemble that there are only a handful of things that can work for seemingly any wind combination.

The piece is available for purchase as a direct to email PDF set of score and parts here.

Keep Your Distance (Socially Distant Works)

My composer colleagues are posting their works that can be performed at a safe distance (chamber music…no?). But I have nonetheless decided to follow the trend.

Below are selected chamber works. Sadly, my two new pieces for chamber orchestra that I wrote over the past year have yet to be premiered due to the coronavirus and are currently under contract…such is life. Enjoy!

Everything Must Go: for 4-part flexible wind ensemble (2020)
The Revival: for horn, violin, 2 violas, and cello (2019)
Ain’t Gonna Study War No More: for saxophone quartet (2019)
Songbook: for oboe, violin, viola, and cello (2018)
Drifts and Currents: for flute and piano (2017)
Two Classified Documents: two works for solo snare drum (2017 - 19)

Wrapping Up

Long time, no write! Needless to say, it has been a hell of a year. I won’t fall into clichés or list every single ‘once in a century’ event that seemingly slammed into this year all at once, but I will say it has been difficult if not next to impossible to write or be inspired. It is hard to write with premiere dates in mind which may or may not occur due to the ongoing pandemic.

However, I am at the tail end of (count ‘em) two pieces! The first, Deep State, for soprano saxophone and percussion was commissioned by Derek Granger and a consortium of saxophonists has been a nice channel for my rage during the past few months (sorry in advance any performers). The second came out of the COVID-19 pandemic, Everything Must Go for Sanderson High School in North Carolina. The piece was written out of the necessity for new music for a seemingly new ensemble; the “makeshift” adaptable wind ensemble that arose out of the pandemic. The work is scored for four voices of any wind instrumental setup and can be performed as both chamber music or as a large ensemble. The writing process is more akin to doing Sudoku or a crossword puzzle than writing a piece of music. But like many composers after the First World War, we are gonna have to adapt to the new way music is going to be made.

The Next Looming Crisis

The economic fallout of the coronavirus pandemic threatens to significantly exacerbate housing instability and homelessness in the United States. With too many renters living paycheck-to-paycheck, a broken-down car, a sick child, or missed days at work can put someone at imminent risk of losing their home.

Later this month, most states are going to lift their moratorium on evictions, leaving potentially millions on the streets. This next looming crisis in America will not only lead to a massive rise in homeless families but also further fuel the transmission rate of COVID-19.

From now until August 8th, 100% of proceeds at robertrankinmusic.com will be donated to the National Low Income Housing Coalition, an organization committed to ensuring affordable housing and passing policy to avoid mass evictions during the COVID-19 pandemic. They have a ton of helpful resources for renters as well info on how to enact change and avoid this catastrophe.

Passing Time Pastime

It would seem an odd time to become suddenly obsessed with baseball. But this time, to barely scratch the surface, is indeed odd. For the first time since the strike in 1994, Major League Baseball and to that matter all baseball is currently put on hold. Nonetheless, with my writing schedule wrapping up at the same time the COVID-19 coronavirus was ramping-up, I found myself with a fair amount of free time on my hands. So I began the quarantine binge of online entertainment. But rather than Tiger King or Animal Crossing which seems to be The Craze™, I began to watch Ken Burns’ eighteen and a half hour documentary miniseries on the history of baseball. Much like Donald Trump’s reaction to the current crisis, my interest in a lengthy documentary on any sort of sport is something that “no one saw coming.” 



My only connection to baseball was playing a single season of little league in 5th grade as a mediocre, grass picking right fielder who, mind you, did make what was awarded “The Best Catch of The Season.” As an overly anxious child, I had an intense fear of the baseball itself; afraid of getting hit by a fly ball while playing in the outfield, afraid of hitting the ball at bat and enduring that painful sensation of the metal bat vibrating in my little hands, etc. But during one particularly competitive little league game at an Apex, NC middle school baseball field, a fly ball came hurling towards me in right field and out of fear more than anything else reflexively covered my face with my glove. And with a hollow pop, the ball had landed in my glove…the “Best Catch of The Season.” So besides my short stint as a begrudging ballplayer, I had only attended a handful of baseball games in my life. My father, a talented athlete and sports enthusiast, was more a fan of basketball and football than baseball and thus took the family to college basketball and football games when I was growing up.

However, something clicked in me while watching the first few episodes of Baseball. It seemed to fill a void which the coronavirus had created (for those lucky few of us whose only real burden during this time is being overwhelmed by the news and bored with sheltering in place). The history of baseball seemed to be more about communities and families than base hits. It seemed to be more about what Ebbets Field meant to the residence of Brooklyn and what the century long loosing streak of the Chicago Cubs meant to families in Chicago and how people came together to share in victories and defeats. Its that physical sense of community that Ken Burns’ documentary filled for me. Though a sense of emotional closeness may have rekindled during this time, with spontaneous Zoom sessions with friends and families we in some cases haven’t talked to in years, there is still a void left in me that I believe can only be mended by truly being with family and friends engaging in a shared experience. Maybe even, and I’m as shocked as anyone to be saying this, a baseball game.