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Rabbi Moshe Cotel, Composer, Dies at 65,
The New York Times, November 2, 2008

When told of the sudden passing of Moshe Cotel, my heart froze in disbelief. Moshe was my first and most important teacher. He taught me many things, most significantly to always follow a path forged by what one believes is right and necessary. It is a difficult path, but for an artist an essential one, and Moshe led by example. Moshe Cotel was kind, uncompromising, deeply gifted and a relative mystery to most people. Upon reflection, he is the only teacher I can imagine guiding those delicate early stages of a musical life. The work of a composition teacher can provoke puzzlement — sometimes, even, to those of us designated as such. The best teachers are able to understand a student's hopes and fears, aptitudes, limitations and, most importantly, to read and hear the student mind's ear (oftentimes hearing what the student does before he or she is even aware of it). I believe Moshe was able to do these things. He made me feel that any musical undertaking not executed on the highest level was unacceptable. Under his quiet guidance I grew a great deal -- not only as an artist, but as a son, brother, friend, and later, as a husband, father and teacher myself. Much has been made of Moshe's decision to leave Peabody to become a rabbi, a remarkable act to be sure. But it is Moshe Cotel the composer, pianist and teacher that lives on in my memory, a formidable musical force who left a substantial legacy which deserves — demands — to be reckoned with on its own terms.
- Michael Hersch, BM '95, MM '97, Composition

I am saddened by Mr. Cotel's passing. Having been assigned to his composition studio as a Peabody doctoral student in 1988 (providentially, I am convinced), I soon grew to love him as a warm and wonderful teacher as well as a man of tremendous integrity. Though we did not share the same faith, Mr. Cotel was ever supportive and uniquely understanding of my desire to integrate faith with music. His teaching was gentle and subtle even in its strong impact, and I will never forget his loyal nuturing.

-Mark Hijleh, DMA '91, Composition 

A sorrowful shudder went through me as I read of Mr. Cotel’s passing.  I remembered the quiet yet principled man who had been a theory teacher, and performance consultant, and later a friend who shared several conversations on many topics ranging from theology to the ultimate nature of reality.

He taught a special class one year on 20^th century piano music, in which I and perhaps six others participated.  We premiered various works, and during the class we were each assigned a Schoenberg piece for performance at the end of the semester.  At the last minute, one student was unable to learn his piece, and Mr. Cotel was able to learn and perform the required piece himself with 2 days notice.

I became a part-time student assistant to him in 85, and an unusual friendship between a gentile protestant student and a reserved Jewish professor emerged, causing Moshe to comment on several occasions, “Well, the Apostle Paul did say that Abraham is the father of us all.”

I accompanied him to the world premiere of his 2-act opera, Dreyfus, based upon the Dreyfus Affair, at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, and he made special arrangements to be at some of my performances.

During my work in the Peabody Recording Studio, I sometime went into the archives to find recordings of Moshe’s student works, many of which were very fanciful and unique—including unusual piano pieces with a special “22-notes to the octave” tuning system.

I was delighted to learn that he had become a Rabbi, as his heart and mind were always focused on higher things.

He was a quiet man, and perceived as difficult to know, but it is one of my greatest joys and privileges to have known this wonderful teacher, composer, and friend.

        Jon Saboe, Piano  BM ’85, MM ‘86

The example of Moshe Cotel was and still is a major moral force in my life, during my years at Peabody through our interaction as teacher and student, but especially after, when I began my own teaching career. He had an integrity that no one else I knew had, a sense of balance between the spiritual and the practical that I admired. He would tell you what he thought of your composition, good or bad, without having any hidden aesthetic agenda in mind, but without pulling his punches, either.

I got the feeling that he really knew what he wanted in life, but that the center of his world was not always music. Music was important to him, but there were other important things in this world as well. Frequently in my lessons we would discuss problems only remotely related to the musical idea at hand. To my mind it took chutzpah to express that sense of perspective in the hothouse environment of  the Conservatory. I believe he must have already been thinking of pursuing rabbinical studies, and even back in the mid-1980s he had the aura of a spiritual leader. He has certainly became a role model for me in the years following my graduation from Peabody.

Although I have many vivid memories of my studies with Moshe Cotel, I would like to share three anecdotes:

The first has to do with his use of a gesture that he would make in order to explain the resolution in contrary motion of the augmented sixth chord, which normally he used as a clue when a student had problems determining the chord in an analysis. With a face that I can only describe as disappointed, he would extend one arm and point straight up, while his other arm pointed toward the floor, retracting and extending his arms up and down for emphasis, waiting for the student to get the idea and identify the augmented sixth.  This is a  gesture that I make to my theory students to this day, and I always explain its origin.

Second, there was a time when we discussed what it meant to have a compositional voice. "Wait till you're forty," he said to me, "then you can start worrying about having a voice." He was around forty himself at the time. I took that lesson to heart (perhaps too literally), and although at times it caused me problems among some of my later teachers and colleagues, I found that his advice helped transform me into a confident composer with a wide range of techniques and options in my musical palette.

Third, at one point we were studying a very short movement from a work by Webern--I think it was his Five Orchestral Pieces, Op.10.-- Mr. Cotel was enamored with it, fascinated by its concision and completeness. "Just think, you can copy it out, put it in your pocket, and carry a perfect little piece around with you."  The music that I knew from my teacher (The Night of the Murdered Poets, the Piano Sonata, his piece for two pianos called Yetzirah, selections from his opera Dreyfus) seemed worlds away from the terse, concentrated gestures of Webern.  Its gestural language was expansive, its ideas tended to have an immediate impact, and its social message tore into your soul. I didn't see or understand his connection with Webern, but it showed me that a composer can admire more types of music than that which the composer produces, and that perhaps the idea of musical influence can be more subtle than it's often made out to be.  So, does my own music sound like Moshe Cotel's?  I'm not sure the connection is that obvious, but I can tell you that I would be worse off, both as a composer and as a human being, had I not spent four years studying, and learning, with him. Zekher tzadik livrakha.

-Brian Banks, BM 86, Composition

I was saddened to hear of Prof. Cotel's passing. I had 2 semesters of