About Damian Montaño

Damian Montaño is an American composer and bassoonist whose work has been commissioned and performed by orchestras and ensembles throughout the United States. An NEA grant-funded composer, his commissions include those from the Houston Symphony, Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra, and Dallas Winds. His music has been performed by ensembles including the National Symphony Orchestra, the International Double Reed Society Festival Orchestra, Long Beach Symphony, Santa Monica Symphony, Northwestern University Chamber Orchestra, and Northwest Philharmonia. As a performer, Damian has been a member of the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra since 2005 and has appeared with numerous Southern California ensembles, including the Los Angeles Philharmonic, LA Opera, and Pacific Symphony. As a motion picture and television recording artist, he has performed on hundreds of scores for film and television by composers including John Williams, Hans Zimmer, Danny Elfman, Michael Giacchino, Ludwig Göransson, and Alan Silvestri. His recording credits include the Star Wars sequel trilogy, The Mandalorian, Avatar: The Way of Water, Moana, Encanto, and Spider-Man: No Way Home. While studying at the University of Southern California, Damian won both the USC Wind Symphony Concerto Competition and the Young Musicians Foundation Debut Orchestra Concerto Competition with his bassoon concerto, performing as both composer and soloist with each ensemble. In 2012, he was featured as both soloist and composer at the International Double Reed Society Conference, where he performed the world premiere of his bassoon concerto Three Night Pieces. He has also appeared as soloist with the Henry Mancini Institute Orchestra, along with soloist Jenni Olson, in a performance of his Concerto for Piccolo and Contrabassoon. 

The inspiration for Treehouse came from the image of a secluded treehouse tucked away in a mystical garden at night, lit by the warm amber glow of a hurricane lamp. I imagined a place where even the smallest motions - the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, a flickering firefly, or shifting shadows cast across the leaves - seem magnified in the stillness. The music opens with a cadenza-like improvisation where these fleeting gestures hint that something is stirring. It unfolds into a graceful minuet before drifting into a habañera-inspired berceuse that briefly lulls the listener into believing the garden has settled for the night. Then, without warning, the garden awakens. I envisioned vines shooting from the earth and climbing skyward as unseen creatures answer a magical nighttime summons. The once-gentle landscape gives way to a spirited nocturnal dance. From here, the music inhabits a world that is almost familiar, yet playfully askew. I wanted it to feel as though the garden follows its own set of rules—recognizable enough to invite you in, yet mysterious enough that you never feel completely settled. Mixed meters and shifting tonal centers shape this whimsical celebration around the treehouse, illuminated by the warm amber glow of the hurricane lamp, where the smallest flicker can awaken an extraordinary world.

About Treehouse: