If I'm writing something that will exist solely on its own I tend to throw everything and the musical-emotional kitchen sink at it. Having multiple pieces means that you can't really do that. The range of things that I want the audience to feel is stretched out over many pieces instead of just one so, in a sense, there has to be some compartmentalization in the writing of these things.
At the moment I'm 95% done with one of the movements and, because of the text, I decided to create this kind of hazy fog of half-remembered memories (or something inarticulate like that). It's in E-Lydian, the main melody spans a 7th and it's very "tune-y" (think Fauré, I suppose). Here it is without any accompaniment written in quite yet (click on it to see it a little closer):
The original text by Rilke is gorgeous. Here's the English translation:
You don't survive in meIsn't that beautiful? Especially the last stanza. I almost always repeat that last line a few times in my head whenever I read it and, more than likely, the music will reflect this.
Because of memories
Nor are you mine because
Of the strength of a beautiful longing
What does make you present
Is the ardent detour
That a slow tenderness
Traces in my blood.
I do not need
To see you appear;
Being born sufficed for me
To lose you a little less.
That being said, I would never have set this in English because it's not quite immediate enough for me to take it up in that way. For instance, you have to get about three levels below "ardent detour" before it starts to have some sort of personal emotional resonance. However, the moment you start singing that thing in French I am so on board.
So that's one song nearly in the can. All of the parts for the soprano are written and I'm pretty close to the piano and harp parts. It's become very interesting visualizing what it all will sound like because those two instruments are such an odd combination...sort of like trying to find the happy medium between a linebacker and a ballerina.
No comments:
Post a Comment