Featured Composer Wayne Eastwood

Wayne Eastwood

Arkansas-born composer, Wayne Eastwood, wrote his first song when he was ten years old, the sole fruit born of a brief but embrangled one-way love affair with his fourth-grade teacher. All-in-all, he thought the whole thing pretty easy work, so he spent his formative years teaching himself music theory, vocal production, and composition.

Unfortunately, on arriving at university, he found that most of his self-taught skills had to be untaught, a process that left him with severe emotional scars and his professors with a few more tangible ones. None the less, his teachers cleaned him up enough to get through school without embarrassing anybody excessively and with a portfolio sufficient to interest Ned Rorem in tutoring him.

Finding school easier than working for a living, he returned regularly to university studies, usually with a new batch of songs dedicated to yet another fourth-grade teacher. He holds an undergraduate degree in voice, a master’s degree in composition, and a Ph.D. in conducting from the College of Music, the University of North Texas. He would have taken more degrees, but the university changed the locks on the doors and told him to get a life.

Degree in hand, he then worked as a conductor, teacher, truck driver, singer, book editor, computer programmer, and a composer of commercial jingles. Remember that time in the past when you’ve had a really bad tune stuck in your head for days? He’s truly sorry about that. He has worked as the Director of Choral Activities for universities in Texas and Idaho, taught graduate courses in California and Ohio, and spent a term at the University of Łodz, Poland, lecturing on the dangers of American music.

He is married to a pastor who still hopes she can help redeem his soul and composes in an 1885 Victorian held together by paint and inertia. His music appears regularly in the programs of university choruses and standing choirs across the country. The Philippine-based Ateneo Chamber Singers sang a set of his choral works on their recent world tour, to outstanding reviews and a few screams for diplomatic immunity.

He collects Pogo first editions, vintage LPs, and patterned paper towels that he stuffs between the cracks in the walls of his house. He knows (but is not telling) a plethora of occult secrets about some East-coast conductors, and Homeland Security, so far as is known, has not identified him as a person of interest.