What Wondrous Love
Many of you know that I made a quick trip up to the Boston area last week to hear the premiere of a new composition of mine, commissioned by the fabulous Nightingale Vocal Ensemble, an elite choir that champions new music. My connection to Nightingale was the concert producer—Josh Glassman, a fabulous tenor with the ensemble—who had conducted the premiere of my 2019 opera when he lived in Philadelphia. The piece is an epic choral fantasy based on the traditional Irish ballad "Paddy's Lamentation," which to nobody's surprise manifested as a tapestry of intense emotions inspired by the story. It was an unusual experience for me, traveling to another city with my violin—but only for personal practice, with no need to play it on stage—and in pursuit of a consequential musical collaboration in which I knew only a single person.
After a painstaking nearly six-hour drive through rush hour, I arrived at their dress rehearsal at Old South Church downtown to be met by a room full of complete strangers, with the exception of Josh. They began to sing my piece and I was immediately overwhelmed by exhilaration—but then warmth, comfort, and even affection. What could be a more personal self-expression than a work of art; and here was a collective of consummate professionals who had taken the time, effort, and artistry to express my static notation as beautiful music. The next night was the premiere in Rockport at the Shalin Liu Performing Arts Center overlooking the ocean. Another day better rehearsed, in a better acoustical space, and under the auspicious context of performance, the feeling was back—but this time stronger. As I sat there with my heart pounding and tears in my eyes, what modicum of intellectual bandwidth that remained for self-awareness occurred to me that I must have looked as though I were in love. Then it dawned on me: I was in love. With all of them. All 19 musicians on stage, from conductor to soloist to choir to instrumentalists. Complete strangers only a day prior, the entire personnel of the Nightingale Vocal Ensemble had captured my heart within the duration of a seven-minute piece about Irish immigrants in the American Civil War.
Now, of course it wasn't a familial love—and certainly not a romantic love—but another kind of love entirely. A love even more basic. A profound, affectionate respect for their humanity, evoked through this most primal behavior of singing. Spontaneously and unconditionally, our musical connection had unlocked the warmest feelings that a person can feel for another.
As we all rack our brains to assess how to save our country from the current nightmare, I posit that our answer, in some way, has to be love. A love for our country and all of its occupants that inspires us to organize, speak up, resist, provide sanctuary, comfort, and above all else, persevere. Isn't it all but certainly an absence of love that forged the inhabitant of the Oval Office and his boss with the affinity for the "Roman salute?"
If I learned—or at least reinforced—anything in Rockport last week, it's the notion that music is a direct and powerful conduit for love. I felt it during my premiere—but I have felt it a thousand times before, many times here at MLUC with all of you. Our Choir is by now very familiar with my tears of pride for them at the conclusion of a successful performance. It's sheer love. In this way, perhaps music is more important now than ever. May music forever remain an integral component of our endeavor to transform lives through love.
This Sunday, the Choir celebrates love through (and of) music through Baldassare Donato's Renaissance madrigal, "All Ye Who Music Love;" James Mullholland's setting of the ubiquitous Robert Burns poem, "A Red, Red Rose;" and Gustav Holst's seasonal but introspective "I Sowed the Seeds of Love." Pivoting to an overtly comical, flirty, and uncharacteristically egocentric love, Kaitlyn and Jodie (the two people whom I love more than anyone on earth) will perform William Bolcom's Cabaret Song, "Amor" for the Postlude. Together, we will sing hymns #18: "What Wondrous Love," and #1020: "Woyaya."
See you Sunday!
–David
After a painstaking nearly six-hour drive through rush hour, I arrived at their dress rehearsal at Old South Church downtown to be met by a room full of complete strangers, with the exception of Josh. They began to sing my piece and I was immediately overwhelmed by exhilaration—but then warmth, comfort, and even affection. What could be a more personal self-expression than a work of art; and here was a collective of consummate professionals who had taken the time, effort, and artistry to express my static notation as beautiful music. The next night was the premiere in Rockport at the Shalin Liu Performing Arts Center overlooking the ocean. Another day better rehearsed, in a better acoustical space, and under the auspicious context of performance, the feeling was back—but this time stronger. As I sat there with my heart pounding and tears in my eyes, what modicum of intellectual bandwidth that remained for self-awareness occurred to me that I must have looked as though I were in love. Then it dawned on me: I was in love. With all of them. All 19 musicians on stage, from conductor to soloist to choir to instrumentalists. Complete strangers only a day prior, the entire personnel of the Nightingale Vocal Ensemble had captured my heart within the duration of a seven-minute piece about Irish immigrants in the American Civil War.
Now, of course it wasn't a familial love—and certainly not a romantic love—but another kind of love entirely. A love even more basic. A profound, affectionate respect for their humanity, evoked through this most primal behavior of singing. Spontaneously and unconditionally, our musical connection had unlocked the warmest feelings that a person can feel for another.
As we all rack our brains to assess how to save our country from the current nightmare, I posit that our answer, in some way, has to be love. A love for our country and all of its occupants that inspires us to organize, speak up, resist, provide sanctuary, comfort, and above all else, persevere. Isn't it all but certainly an absence of love that forged the inhabitant of the Oval Office and his boss with the affinity for the "Roman salute?"
If I learned—or at least reinforced—anything in Rockport last week, it's the notion that music is a direct and powerful conduit for love. I felt it during my premiere—but I have felt it a thousand times before, many times here at MLUC with all of you. Our Choir is by now very familiar with my tears of pride for them at the conclusion of a successful performance. It's sheer love. In this way, perhaps music is more important now than ever. May music forever remain an integral component of our endeavor to transform lives through love.
This Sunday, the Choir celebrates love through (and of) music through Baldassare Donato's Renaissance madrigal, "All Ye Who Music Love;" James Mullholland's setting of the ubiquitous Robert Burns poem, "A Red, Red Rose;" and Gustav Holst's seasonal but introspective "I Sowed the Seeds of Love." Pivoting to an overtly comical, flirty, and uncharacteristically egocentric love, Kaitlyn and Jodie (the two people whom I love more than anyone on earth) will perform William Bolcom's Cabaret Song, "Amor" for the Postlude. Together, we will sing hymns #18: "What Wondrous Love," and #1020: "Woyaya."
See you Sunday!
–David
Posted in Music Notes