The Story of Spinning World: 13 Ways of Looking at a Waltz

Gunnar Madsen

Tired of being Funny

My work as a songwriter and singer with The Bobs was a blast, and musically adventurous and challenging. But it was always with a humorous edge. After 10 years of being funny, I wanted to be serious. I wanted to be romantic. All my training in composition and theory was dying to be used. So when a friend (who was deep into ballroom dance) suggested I write waltzes for him, it was the kind of call I’d been waiting for.

My friend, however, had no money. And I, having quit the Bobs, had no money. I needed to eat. I scribbled ideas for waltzes in my spare time, but I was busy trying to make ends meet.

Testosterone for Sale

I found a job writing music for video games. Car races, shoot-em-ups, kung-fu extravaganzas. My job was to write music that would make 13-year-old boys feel omnipotent. And that meant lots of heavy metal and techno. There is no room for humor in omnipotent music. So I got to be serious. And I do indeed love most rock and pop music, so it’s not like I was doing something I hated.

But after an eight-hour day of exploring my inner 13 year old, I longed for something more grown up, more soulful, more romantic…

At last…Romance!

Meanwhile, my ballroom dancing friend had established a highly-successful teaching franchise in the Seattle area. He was producing instructional videos and putting out compilation CDs of Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman. He had the money to commission a full album of waltzes from me. I started writing.

Every night I’d get home from my video game job, and I’d sit at my grand piano and explore ideas for waltzes. I’d think of Randy Newman, I’d think of Stravinsky, I’d think of Cirque du Soleil and Carla Bley, of Nino Rota and Yo-Yo Ma. I got wild, I got quiet, I got sad, I got sexy. Oh, it was SUCH pleasure to write music – no words, no "product" to sell, just beautiful music.

A curious thing - Anna...

A great aunt, Anna, kept coming to mind as I was writing the waltzes. Yet I hardly knew her. She was one of 5 sisters of my grandmother, but she was rarely mentioned by the family and had never appeared at our reunions. She lived alone in the projects near Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. My father took me to visit her when I was 17. Her apartment was cramped and stuffy, there were dirty crusty dishes in the sink, and she had a Victrola playing opera. It was not the kind of place a 17-year-old boy really wants to hang out in. My father introduced me to her, and said "Gunnar’s thinking of studying music." Her eyes lit up, and she gave an exclamation of encouragement. Wow. Nobody in my family had ever been the least bit excited at the idea of my studying music. I was touched. Her enthusiasm aside, I was glad when we finally got out of there.

I didn’t see her again until my grandmother’s funeral some years later, and though we smiled and said hello, that was the extent of our relationship. She died a couple years after that.

As I was finishing up the 13 waltzes, I told my parents how Anna kept coming to mind. And my mother said "Well, of course."

Of course?

"Remember? When she died, her will was made out to you."

I had forgotten. She had so few possessions that the will was never executed. I had nothing to remember her by. But I remembered now - she had wanted to support me. And although she may have been hovering about and rooting for me all through my years of rock and roll, it wasn’t until I got "romantic" that I was aware of her. The song Anna is all about her. I feel so blessed to have had her support. And I love the way that seemingly inconsequential encounters can reverberate through the years and have, ultimately, deep meaning.

What about that title? Why 13 Ways?

In college, I wrote a song cycle based on a favorite poem of mine by Wallace Stevens: "13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird." (Actually, my song cycle was titled "6 out of 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird," as I didn’t have time to complete the other 7!) We ended up with 13 waltzes to put on the record and, by golly, that old Wallace Stevens title just popped into my head…along with a simultaneous idea of calling the CD "Spinning World." Why not both? And there you have it.