For days now, I’ve been preparing a list post titled “Works by living composers that changed my life,” but realized that my list, for lack of a better phrase, stinks.

In high school and my early college years, I prided myself on heavily digesting music by living composers, and even knowing them personally. I felt so in-the-know every time I received a CD in the mail from one, with my address handwritten by the composer with a note: “More of my music!” or “Check this out!” followed by an e-mail after I’d listened.

I received sheet music by e-mail before it was even published, which I sight read with musician friends and a few of them even wanted to perform, though they never did. I waved to composers at concerts from the seats, and bragged shamelessly whenever I played their music and someone would ask “Who is this? I’ve never heard this before?” and I could tell them, “Of course you haven’t, it hasn’t been released.” If they were alive and writing music, I’d do anything just to hear it.

That’s no longer so. After finding a handful of favorites, I’ve begun to listen to their music exclusively, putting myself in a new-music rut. I sentencing myself to a week of new music exploration (thanks to Google). If someone could suggest anyone, I’d be grateful.