STREPITO SKETCHES - Oh Dah | Eric Schultheiss

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About the Piece – The Voice of Percussion
This composition emerged from a desire I’ve been carrying for some time — to let percussion tell the story, not just support it. I wasn’t chasing a specific plot or linear arc; instead, I wanted the structure and orchestration itself to feel like a story. The tension and release, the breath and silence, the swelling and thinning of the layers — all of it works like chapters in a book or scenes in a film.

Rather than using percussion purely for rhythm or texture, I treated it as the subject of musical development — the protagonist, if you will. The piece doesn’t stand still. It constantly moves forward, driven by evolving patterns and polyrhythmic dialogue that suggest motion, curiosity, and growth. It’s cinematic, but not in a Hollywood sense — more like a visual poem that never needed images.

Instrumentation – A Palette of Sonic Tension
The instrumentation played a huge role in shaping the character of this work. I chose:

Tuned woodblocks for their tight, woody attack and the pitch clarity that allows them to function melodically.

A large concert bass drum, which anchors the space with deep, breathing resonance — almost like a slow heartbeat beneath the pulse.

Bowed vibraphone, which creates eerie, suspended harmonics that hover between tonality and texture.

Electronically enhanced alto flutes, treated subtly to expand their breathy, organic warmth into a more surreal, hybrid timbre.

Each instrument offers contrast and connection. Together, they create a sound world that’s at once earthy and ethereal — full of space, friction, and resonance.

My Compositional Process – Subtractive Clarity
I’ve been deeply fascinated by the idea of subtractive composition — beginning with excess and then distilling. In this case, I started by layering everything: rhythmic phrases, textures, patterns, overlapping voices. From there, I started removing. Slowly. Carefully. Listening for the moment when a groove appears not because I imposed it, but because the rhythms clicked together on their own.

This method forces clarity. It demands patience. But in return, it reveals form and motif in a way that feels earned, not constructed. What’s left is lean, purposeful, and full of breath.

Creating on the Move – Mobile Composition
An unexpected part of this journey was working entirely on a mobile phone. That wasn’t the plan — but life’s pace made it necessary. What surprised me was how natural it felt. Whether I was waiting in line or commuting, I could open the DAW, hear a phrase, tweak a layer, or test a rhythmic gesture.

There’s something very alive about composing in fragmented moments. It forced me to be instinctual and trust my ears in imperfect environments. The music traveled with me — and I think you can hear that movement in the final piece.

How to Listen – Open-Eared Curiosity
This is not passive listening. The piece rewards attention. At first, the rhythmic complexity may feel disorienting. But the longer you sit with it, the more you’ll begin to feel the groove that hides inside the polyrhythms — the subtle engine underneath. I hope it mesmerizes you. I hope it challenges you, especially in how it redefines the role of percussion in compositional architecture.

For Whom It Resonates
This music will likely connect with:

Film producers and choreographers looking for tension, motion, and ambiguity.

Storytellers and sound designers who appreciate abstract narrative through sound.

Composers and musicians interested in rhythm-driven counterpoint and experimental form.

If you're a fan of John Cage’s conceptual rigor, the contrapuntal intelligence of J.S. Bach, or the raw expressiveness found in traditional ethnic folk music, I believe this piece will speak to you.

Final Thought
Thanks for listening, and for being curious enough to dive into a piece like this. I hope it gives you space to think — and a rhythm to get lost in.