Alleluia in A-flat, Op.33
Although it may seem odd for a choral piece written in our day. This program note will actually begin with Tchaikovsky. In a box of LP's given me by my great-aunt when I was a mere slip of a boy, was one platter with a few classical music selections, one of which was the 1812 Overture. I came immediately to love it then, and even though we can count on the Boston Pops to play the piece every fourth of July whether we need to hear it or not (so to say) I love it still.
For our purposes this evening, suffice it to add that the opening solemn cello choir of the Overture has been in my ear most of my life.
One day when I was in St Petersburg in my early 30s I was walking from the office of what was then the St. Petersburg Press to the Metro station. Every time I walked to or from the office, I passed by a church,which had only recently resumed its proper function as a church, after being closed (or used as a warehouse) for most of the Soviet era. On this day, I was arrested in my walk because out from a cupola atop the church there came the enchanting sound of a choir singing an anthem, which I immediately recognized as the opening of the 1812 Overture. I checked the church calendar and I've learned that this piece which I had known from my youth is an anthem for the Feast of the Epiphany.
During my residency in St Petersburg, my ear would be agreeably steeped in the rich sound of the Russian Orthodox liturgical musical tradition.
Even though the ethereal sound of the voices was somewhat exotic, it reminded me deeply what a rich experience it had been singing in my high school chorus and in a church choir.
My Alleluia here tonight, which is dedicated to the wonderful artist Irina Pisarenko. Is thus of a musical character congruent with the Russian choral music I had come to love so well. The musical organization, though, is a modest adaptation of the sonatina design which Mozart favored for a number of his Andante movements.
The final, and rather amusing, note for this piece is that the response of the first Boston church music director to whom I showed the Alleluia was literally “I see no reason to perform this piece.”
It was the first piece of mine to be published, by Lux Nova Press, and within a couple of years it had been sung on three continents.
From 30 July 2018:
For the first order of business with A Heart So White is, to review the fixed media as it stands, and see if it suffices for the pace of dramatic performance of the scene. I have been morally prepared for the possibility that the fixed media may require some expansion.
Skip to 30 March, 2019:
For one thing, it has always lacked dramatically proper knocks for Wake Duncan with thy knocking; I would thou could'st.
An entirely novel idea (I think) came to me last night for another layer, which will not crowd out the present texture; and I have made that addition today, and I am well pleased with the result.
Now, or, soon, to find my recorder and see about some knocking.
Once Yesterday's Snow was finished (as it needs to be, for a May performance), and before I set to proper work on the Swiss Skis, it was time to think about Easter. My enormously supportive church choir and organist, some of the dearest people I know, have been keeping my spot warm, and we have planned the beginning of my return to duties for Palm Sunday and Easter, and so, I wanted to mark the return with a new piece for my handbell choir, which I composed on the 16th and 17th of March.
and 17
So, I dreamt I was in Switzerland, and seeing Stravinsky's face in a window, I entered the house, walked up a short flight of steps, knocked on the door, and Vera asked me in. I warmly greeted the master, told him that compositionally, I felt he was like a father to me, and we went for a swim in a lake.
Sure on Tuesday afternoon, I posted that I was unsure on which of two pieces I wanted to resume work; but then, Tuesday evening, I set to changing the setting of the first two lines of the scene, according to notes that were floating around in my inner ear; and I modified the composition of the accompanying live ensemble, to C flute, alto flute, horn and violin.
I have two works-in-hiatus (Not counting White Nights) which now loom into my present consideration: A Heart So White, the dramatic scena for two female singers, live instruments and fixed media, and The Heart, the second movement of Karl’s Big (But Happily Incomplete) Map to the Body.
So, cardio, in either event.
At one point last year,I did start work (not yet diligently) on the voice lines of A Heart So White, but I feel I want to start completely afresh there.
As with Yesterday's Snow and Swiss Skis, The Heart is a project I turned around in my mind while I was in hospital.
I have not yet decided which heart to pursue first.
Now, about what in yesterday's post I was calling Trio #1, the companion piece to Oxygen Footprint for Ensemble Aubade.
As reported, the first idea which formed was a swinging-ish pentatonic figure, which at first, in "raw" form, I simply heard the flute and viola playing in octaves. At first I thought it might be the opening of and principal material for the piece; but as I began to scribble on paper, I was not getting it into suitable shape.
I did not, however feel that the material was at all unworkable, only that I had not yet discovered how I really wanted to work it.
As with Yesterday's Snow, there was music to which I was listening regularly whose organization and character began to inform my work, even though my piece sounds nothing like the "organizational inspiration," in this case, Miles Davis, In a Silent Way. To break it out roughly,I thought of my trio as "bass" (the harp) "rhythmic tattoo" (the viola, starting the piece out with the repeated thirds which I stole from the paired flutes in my original musical conception of what became Yesterday's Snow). and "insouciant solo" (the flute)
About the harp part: I felt that, rhythmically, I did not want to make it too regular, but that not-quite-regular (in the spirit of Triadic Memories) would be just right. pitch-wise, I made a bit of a game of leaving the harp in "white-key" setting for much of the piece, generating harmonic interest by the tension between the harp and the single-line instruments, and making only minimal pedal adjustments.
When it seemed to me right to incorporate the dancing, jazzy, pentatonic material, I worked with it much more freely, in terms of imitation, and pitch-level, than I had had in mind originally.
The Opus 161 was substantially finished on 19 March;
I finished the piano version (Opus 161a) on 23 March.
While I was yet in hospital, I began mental work on two trios; their several stories are intertwined, and in my attempt to untwist them, let me call them Trio #1 and Trio #2.
Peter H. Bloom returned from Ensemble Aubade's tour of the southeast and regaled me with highly gratifying reports of how exceptionally enthusiastic was the audiences' reception of Oxygen Footprint.
When we first talked about the prospect of the Footprint, we left open the possibility of more than one piece.
So, when I learnt what a success the Ensemble had had with the first piece, I was determined to write a new companion piece.
My inner ear began playing around with a dancing, jazzy pentatonic figure bandied between the flute and viola: the first germ of Trio #1 (flute, viola and harp).
As reported in this blog post, when my friends and colleagues of The k a rl h e nn i ng Ensemble, including Peter, rallied 'round with their resolve to assemble a program to perform at King's Chapel in May, I knew I wanted to write a new piece for two flutes and horn; and I soon had an idea of repeated notes in the flutes at and around the interval of a third, and this was the inception of Trio #2, which I originally thought I might title Swiss Skis; however, both that musical idea, and the title would be transferred to Trio #1.
To have music ready to rehearse in April for a May program, I set to work on Trio #2 first, and I began serious work on it on March the first. At the time, I was listening to Triadic Memories nightly; thus, even though the character of my piece does not really resemble the piano piece, the musical unputs for my new trio were steeped in a Feldman stew. It will come as no surprise, then, that it was immediately apparent that the musical character of the flutes/horn trio did not at all suit the putative title (Swiss Skis)The piece is instead called Yesterday's Snow. And I finished it by the Ides of March.
And the further tale of Trio #1 must wait until tomorrow.
e
