Now I'm listening in my studio with piano and other keyboards, and for some reason I can see timings when playing the piece.
So I can check.
The overall theme of my comments past and present is that you have a restless, active style that keeps moving. No sitting on one chord very long for you!
The challenge in your style for the listener is a certain anxiety that comes with being moved along, without the listener being sure that he knows where home is, where he's going.
It's not exactly The Unbearable Lightness of Fake Tonality that I've heard from some composers.
It's not the Weirdness of Neo-Classicism.
It's not Po-Mo.
It's not rock-classical that's going to be bought by the Kronos Quartet.
You don't sound like Pete Townshend doing rock with classical instruments.
(These are all things I've heard recently.)
My point: You've defined your own territory, and it doesn't sound much like anyone else.
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The Neapolitan chord I heard repeated is actually going to E, the dominant at 1:12-1:15, coming from a patch on the dominant of E, B minor.
The strong effect of that arrival F-e-D# to E is somewhat vitiated by having, in the next phrase, an F# immediately afterward in that suspension, and moving back to B minor.
Then the really audacious move that I heard before is the f#,g#,a#,b at 1:48. This isn't what's so weird, although it's bracing: You've been playing with B as the dominant of E which is the dominant of A. What's audacious about it is the wild and crazy chords that follow, through 1:59 leading back to E minor. That's the stuff I was calling Ivesian. Tritone roots, or something -- not sure. This stuff is right on the edge of your style.
I like it.
This is immediately followed by a harmonically-settled patch on E minor, with the woodwinds playing the almost-staccato quarter-notes. You have a sly sense of humor, that move from the crazy chords to the stepping, conventional winds. A pull back from eccentricity, if you will.
Maybe: the biggest picture is conventional enough -- the longest-term harmonic relations, and the foreground note-to-note is logical enough, in fact always well-crafted, always lucid and logical.
The madness is in the middle between those two levels, maybe. (Or call it humor, wit, instead of madness.) The strangeness of writing a slightly surreal Baroque fugue in this day and age, with slightly odd restless modulations.
The trade-offs between the winds (and strings) that sounded pointillistic starts after the cadence at around 3:50. The intervals are wider, the harmonies restless, the bass not there. Nice contrast with the full textures that came before.
Because the bass wasn't there for a while, it sounds great when you bring it in nice and low and full at around 4:15.
The challenge -- I say again -- for the listener, is knowing when he is hearing a modulatory, transitional, moving passage, and a more settled passage in the "home" key.
If you want to make things a little easier for the listener, have longer periods of repose, and set them off clearly with your orchestration.
If -- as I suspect -- you like the slightly unsettling effect of all those restless modulations, keeping your listener a little off-balance, keep doing exactly what you're doing.
(Notice that I'm failing utterly to hear first, second and third subjects at this point.)
By 5+ minutes in, I know I'm in the middle, and expect everything to be unsettled and conflicting, so I'm sitting back and enjoying the fireworks, which continue well past 8 minutes.
Unfortunately I'm now a little distracted -- one of my neighbors is having his carpets cleaned by one of those incredibly loud vacuum trucks, and it's cutting through the sound-proofing and the headphones.
Music is fragile next to mechanized noise. Mechanized noise wins, around here.