The Crossing @ Christmas 2016

THE CROSSING @ CHRISTMAS 2016

The Jeffrey Dinsmore Memorial Concerts
music of David Lang, Edie Hill, Toivo Tulev, Aaron Helgeson, and Kevin Puts
performances in Philadelphia and Wilmington

PROGRAM
 

I. i saw the snow melt
last spring (2015)  David Lang 

II. Mother I: if only you will shelter her
And then in silence there with me be only You (2002) Toivo Tulev 

III. beloved into lover transformed
Cancion de el alma (2013) † Edie Hill 

IV. we wander….
A way far home (2016) world premiere Aaron Helgeson 

V. …and remain
where you go (2015) Lang

VI. Mother II: the snow whispers around me
To Touch the Sky (2012) Kevin Puts 

VII. one more time
last spring Lang

† available on our CD,  Clay Jug

The Crossing’s concerts are recorded by Paul Vazquez of Digital Mission Audio Services @ digitalmissiononline.com

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last spring 

David Lang (b. 1957)

The composer writes:

last spring was written for the Edvard Grieg Kor in Bergen, Norway. I had the idea to make something out of the text that Grieg had used, in what is probably his most famous choral work – Våren. The word means ‘Spring’ but this elegiac text, by the Norwegian poet Aasmund Olavsson Vinje, is often translated into English as ‘Last Spring,’ since it is a moving description of an old man watching Winter change into Spring, not knowing if he will live to see another. I was working on this piece in Maine, as a guest of the art patron Marion ‘Kippy‘ Boulton Stroud, when she died suddenly, and it made the text much more immediate for me – more wistful, more emotional, more real.

last spring is dedicated to the memory of Kippy Stroud.

one more time I saw the spring
one more time I saw the cherries blossom
one more time I heard the ice break
one more time I saw the snow melt

more time

 one more time I saw the grass becoming green
one more time I saw the flowers start to bloom
one more time I heard the birds begin to sing
one more time I saw the butterflies
I had missed the spring so long
would this be the last spring I would see?
I had had more than my share

more time

 one more time I saw the spring, it filled my eyes
one more time I saw the sun, as it grew stronger
one more time I heard the music

it filled my eyes, it filled my eyes

– words by the composer, after Aasmund Olavsson Vinje

And then in silence there with me be only You

Toivo Tulev (b. 1958)

The composer writes:

And then in silence there with me be only You was composed in 2001–2002. The text used is the Prayer of Mary in Malayalam and Italian and a small Spanish poem from St. Juan de la Cruz. These three languages – Malayalam (which is spoken in Kerala, in southern India, in one of the world’s oldest Christian areas), Italian, and Spanish, are languages that I frequently heard around me in the winter months of 2001–2002. The music is dedicated to the nuns of the St. Bridget order in Tallinn.

Nanma niranya Mariame,
nanma niranya Mariame susti!
Kartav angayodkude.
Strigalil ang anugrahikapattavalagunnu. 
Nanma niranya Mariame susti!

Del Verbo divino
La Virgen preñada 
Viene de camino: 
Si le dais posada.

Del Verbo divino 
La Virgen preñada 
Viene de camino.

Tu sei benedetta fra le donne / angayude udaratil falamaya
e benedetto è il frutto del tuo seno Gesù, Iśo
anugrahikapattavanagunnu falamaya Iśo
anugrahikapattavanagunnu/ falamaya Iśo
anugrahikapattavanagunnu/ angayude udaratil falamaya
anugrahikapattavanagunnu

e benedetto è il frutto del tuo seno
e benedetto è il frutto del tuo seno
Iśo, Gesù, Gesù, Iśo, Gesù, Gesù, Iśo, Iśo, Gesù,
Iśo, Gesù, Iśo, Gesù, Gesù, Gesù,
Iśo, Iśo, Iśo, Iśo, Gesù, Gesù
e benedetto è il frutto del tuo seno/ falamaya
Gesù, falamaya Iśo, Gesù, Iśo

Del Verbo divino 
La Virgen preñada 
Viene de camino: 
Si le dais posada.
Iśo, Iśo, Gesù, Gesù

Pariśutta Maria(me) Tampurante amme
paapikalaya ñangalkuveendi
ipoolum ñangalude maranasamayattum
Tampuranood apeśikaname/ Santa Maria
Madre di Dio
prega per noi peccatori
adesso e nell` ora della nostra morte.
Madre di Dio, prega per noi Gesù
adesso e nell` ora….Gesù….morte.

Gesù….viene de camino:                                        
Si le dais posada.
Iśo, Iśo viene de camino /Iśo, Iśo,
Si le dais posada.

Gesù, Gesù, Gesù, Gesù,
Iśo, Gesù, Iśo, Iśo, Gesù, Gesù,
Gesù, Gesù, Gesù, Gesù, Iśo,
Gesù, Gesù, Gesù, Gesù, Iśo, Iśo, 
Gesù, Gesù, Iśo, 
Gesù, Gesùe

Hail Mary, full of grace,
Hail Mary, full of grace!
Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women.
Hail Mary, full of grace!

The Virgin, weighed
with the Word of God
Comes down the road:
If only you’ll shelter her.

Blessed art thou amongst women/
the fruit of thy womb
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus, Jesus
blessed fruit Jesus
blessed/fruit Jesus
blessed/
the fruit of thy womb 
blessed
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb/
the fruit
Jesus, the fruit Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

The Virgin, weighed 
with the Word of God
Comes down the road:
If only you’ll shelter her.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus

Holy Mary, Mother of God,
for us sinners
now and at the hour of our death
pray God/
Holy Mary,
Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Mother of God, pray for us Jesus
now and at the hour ... Jesus ... of death.

Jesus ... if only you’ll shelter her
If only you’ll shelter him
Jesus, Jesus comes down the road/
If only you’ll shelter him.

Jesus, Jesus, 
Jesus, Jesus...

–Ancient prayer (Ave Maria) based on Luke (in Malayalam and Italian), with a poem by Juan de la Cruz (in Spanish); compiled by the composer

Cancion de el alma

Edie Hill (b. 1962)

The composer writes:

Cancion de el alma: en una noche escura was commissioned by Classical Minnesota Public Radio for the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir and premiered at the Cathedral of Saint Paul on November 22, 2013 (recorded by MPR). Hailed as a "masterpiece" (Chicago Tribune), the piece has since received its European premiere in February/March 2015 by the Nederlands Kamerkoor under the direction of Daniel Reuss. The text, often referred to as "The Dark Night of the Soul" is one in a trilogy of poems written by 16th-century Spanish mystic St John of the Cross. The message of the poem that I found most moving is the idea of allowing the fire that burns in my heart to guide me. 

En una noche escura,
con ansias, en amores inflamada, 
¡o dichosa ventura!
salí sin ser notada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada. 

Ascuras y segura
por la secreta escala, disfraçada,
¡o dichosa ventura!
a escuras y en celada,
estando ya mi casa sosegada. 

En la noche dichosa
en secreto, que nadie me veýa, 
ni yo mirava cosa,
sin otra luz y guía
sino la que en el coraçón ardía. 

Aquésta me guiava
más cierto que la luz de mediodía 
adonde me esperava
quien yo bien me savía,
en parte donde naide parecía. 

¡O noche, que guiaste!
¡O noche, amable más que el alborada! 
¡O noche que juntaste
Amado con amada,
amada en el amado transformada! 

En mi pecho florido,
que entero para él solo se guardaba 
allí quedó dormido
y yo le regalaba
y el ventalle de cedros ayre daba. 

El ayre del almena,
quando yo sus cavellos esparcía, 
con su mano serena
en mi cuello hería,
y todos mis sentidos suspendía. 

Quedéme y olbidéme,
el rostro recliné sobre el amado; 
cessó todo, y dexéme,
dexando mi cuydado
entre las açucenas olbidado 

On a dark night
With anxiety inflamed into love 
–Oh blessed fortune!–
I left, without being noticed, 
My house being calmed. 

In darkness and safety 
Disguised by the secret stair,
–Oh blessed fortune!–
In darkness and concealed 
My house being calmed. 

In the blessed night,
In secret, where no one saw me,
Nor did I see any thing,
With no other light or guide
Except that which burned in my heart. 

This [light] guided me
More surely than the light of midday 
To where there waited for me 
The one who knew me well
In a place where no one could see. 

Oh night that guides!
Oh night friendlier than the dawn! 
Oh night that joins
Lover with beloved,
Beloved into lover transformed! 

On my flowering breast,
Which, entirely for him alone, kept itself 
There he stayed, sleeping,
And I gave it to him;
And the fanning of the cedars gave breeze. 

The breeze from the battlements, 
As I parted his hair,
With its serene hand
Struck my neck, 
And all my senses were suspended. 

I stayed and forgot myself
My face laid back on the lover; 
Everything ceased, and left me, 
Leaving my care
Forgotten among the lilies.

A way far home

Aaron Helgeson (b. 1982)

The composer writes, with excerpts from the novel on which the work is based:

– Who are you? Do you remember?

The text for A way far home is adapted from Iranian-American poet Kazim Ali’s translation of Marguerite Duras’ book L’amour. Duras, popularized in cinema for her screenplay to Hiroshima mon amour, was born in 1914 in Vietnam during France’s attempts to colonize the region in the aftermath of the Franco-Siamese war. The third in Duras’ “Indian cycle” on varying fictional treatments of her real-life teenage affair with a 27-year old Chinese businessman, the proto-screenplay of L’amour is by far the most abstract. The three central characters remain unnamed, referred to merely as "he" (the traveller), "she" (the woman on the beach), and "he" (the man who walks).

L’amour’s fictional locale of S. Thala—an imaginary tropical coastal village whose boundaries seem to extend infinitely outward in every direction—presents a setting that would have been familiar to Duras from both her birthplace in colonial South Asia and the France she “returned” to for the first time just as the Nazi’s came to power across Europe, each ravaged by occupation. It is a place full of nostalgia from long ago, now unrecognizably barren, with a constant threat of violence in the air.

– What is that?
– Fire.

– Where is it?
– Far.

– How long has it been going on?
– Forever.

Rather than paint individual phrases or create a dramatic narrative from L’Amour’s circular text, A way far home lets Duras’ aural images drift in and out of each other — the sound of the waves hitting the shore, sirens as the nearby village burns, the quiet hum of a million people bustling far beyond the horizon, a mother’s cry in the dark. In this musical response, silence gives way to barely audible chords, which give way to choral sighs, which give way to cascading vocal glissandi.

So, too, do the words of L’amour drift in and out of the music. Following my previous work for voice — A long while and Nor eyes, nor thou, I know — the music was created first, drawing text from the list of words found in Ali’s translation and fitting them freely with the choral part according to their rhythms, part of speech, and meaning in proximity to one another. Think of A way far home, then, as a trio for singing voices, organ, and words.

For a moment, no one listens, no one hears.
Here, the noise has ceased. Over there, it resumes, grows.
Changes.
It turns into singing. A distant singing.

Why the organ? It’s a peculiar instrument. The line between pitch and timbre (an octave, its double, and its double’s double) is not always so clear. You can hear this in the massive clusters of the opening that burst out of nearly every single pipe, but also the barely audible chords that seem to be pulled out of thin air (like ringing in your ears). Such it is with the characters, places, and events of L’amour, which all seem to melt into one another until we’re unclear where one ends and the other begins. Ali addresses this ambiguity, and the chilling effect it had on him, in the introduction to his translation…

“In the cool summer night after a rainstorm, the wind blowing through my room, the white curtains blowing in the wind, wind across my bed, it’s late. I should be asleep. Instead I sit with a novel of sentences, in which the past is a barely visible ghost haunting everything, a novel in which the sounds of devouring desire haunt everything, a song from long ago, heard from behind a closed door, drifts through still, a novel, like the curtains, which quiver in the wind."

home,
a home,
my always home,
and I'll be home

always,
I'm always,
and I'll be always
home

oh,
I listen,
I'm lost and found,
I found it,
I'll find my way now,

waves,
they listen,
they bring me slowly,
slowly they listen,
they tell me they go slowly,
they listen always,
they say they go now,
go

oh,
I’ve wandered across the ashes,
I've known them,
seen them,
loved them,
I've wept to see them,
until...

you stand there,
you're standing there,
I know you,
I'll never know you
until I'm...home

home,
I'm home now,
I'm never home now,
I’ll never go now,
I'll go now,
I will be home now,
I will go,
go now,
I will go,
I'll go

lost,
I lost it,
I'm lost without it,
without it I'm lost,
I'm lost

where you go

Lang

The composer writes:

where you go is a rewriting of what I remember as my favorite part of the biblical Book of Ruth, the famous lines where Ruth tells Naomi that she will stay with her forever. I say ‘what I remember’ because in my memory the book is a beautiful statement of love, friendship and devotion, from one person to another. I always forget that the book is mostly a series of legal arguments, about how someone claims land, or an inheritance, or a wife, or a family. Ruth’s simple desire to follow her heart sets in motion an examination of a complicated chain of interlocking obligations and overlapping responsibilities. That pretty much describes my piece as well.

where you go
where you stay
where you live
where you die

don’t make me leave you
don’t make me turn away from you
don’t make me go

where you go I will go
where you stay I will stay
where you live I will live
where you die I will die

don’t make me leave you
I will never leave you
don’t make me turn away from you
I will never turn away from you
don’t make me go
I will never go

To Touch The Sky

Kevin Puts (b. 1972)

The composer writes:

Though in 1999 or so, I wrote a short choral work for the 300th anniversary of Yale University, To Touch the Sky is my first mature attempt at writing for unaccompanied chorus. 

While the religious concept of the biblical Mary is for me purely mythological, the following quotation from Mary’s Vineyard by Andrew Harvey nonetheless served as a point of departure: "All the powers of all the world's Mothers — Tara, Durga, Kali, of the Tao — are in Mary. She has Tara's sublime protectiveness towards all creation; Durga's (the Fortress's) inaccessible, silent face; the grandeur and terribleness of Kali; the infinite awareness of balance and mystery of the Tao. […]In Mary, then, we have a complete image of the Divine Feminine, an image at once transcendent and immanent, other-worldly and this-worldly, mystical and practical."

With this multicultural interpretation in mind, I began searching for poems by women concerning “spirituality” in the very broadest sense. My aunt, the poet Fleda Brown, is always a tremendous resource when it comes to finding texts, and her assistance here was no exception. She lead me first to Marie Howe’s beautiful  "Annunciation" which I decided could be sung by a soprano soloist over the first lines of the Magnificat, sung by the rest of the chorus at the very opening. I found poems by Emily Bronte, whose tragic "At Castle Wood" lies at the center of what is a loosely based arch form. There are quotes from Sappho, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, poems by the 16th-century Indian poet-saint Mirabai, Amy Lowell, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Christina Georgina Rosetti, and the medieval composer, philosopher and mystic Hildegard of Bingen, in whose "Most Noble Evergreen" I found great inspiration.

To Touch the Sky was commissioned by the Thelma Hunter Fund of the American Composers Forum and Conspirare and premiered by that ensemble on September 27, 2012.

I. Annunciation

Even if I don’t see it again — nor ever feel it
I know it is — and that if once it hailed me
it ever does —

And so it is myself I want to turn in that direction
not as towards a place, but it was a tilting
within myself

as one turns a mirror to flash the light to where
it isn’t — I was blinded like that — and swam
in what shone at me

only able to endure it by being no one and so
specifically myself I thought I’d die
from being loved like that.
— Marie Howe (b. 1950) from The Kingdom of Ordinary Time

II. Unbreakable

Unbreakable, O Lord, 
Is the love
That binds me to You: 
Like a diamond, 
It breaks the hammer that strikes it.

My heart goes into You
As the polish goes into the gold. 
Like the lotus lives in water, 
I live in You.

Like the bird
That gazes all night
At the passing moon, 
I have lost myself dwelling in You.

O my Beloved – Return.
— Mirabai  (b. 1498)

III. The Fruit of Silence

The fruit of silence is peace. The fruit of prayer is faith. The fruit of faith is love. The fruit of service is peace.
— Mother Teresa (1910-1997)

IV. Falling Snow

The snow whispers about me,
And my wooden clogs
Leave holes behind me in the snow.
But no one will pass this way
Seeking my footsteps,
And when the temple bell rings again
They will be covered and gone.
— Amy Lowell (1874-1925)

V. At Castle Wood

The day is done, the winter sun
Is setting in its sullen sky;
And drear the course that has been run,
And dim the hearts that slowly die.

No star will light my coming night;
No morn of hope for me will shine;
I mourn not heaven would blast my sight,
And I ne’er longed for joys divine.

Through life’s hard task I did not ask
Celestial aid, Celestial cheer;
I saw my fate without its mask,
And met it too without a tear.

The grief that pressed my aching breast
Was heavier far than earth can be;
And who would dread eternal rest
When labour’s hour was agony?

Dark falls the fear of this despair
On spirits born of happiness;
But I was bred the mate of care,
The foster-child of sore distress.

No sighs for me, no sympathy,
No wish to keep my soul below;
My heart is dead in infancy.
— Emily Brontë (1818-1848)

VI. Epitaph

Heap not on this mound
Roses that she loved so well:
Why bewilder her with roses,
That she cannot see or smell?

She is happy where she lies
With the dust upon her eyes.
— Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

 VII. Who has seen the wind?

Who has seen the wind? 
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling, 
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I. 
But when the trees bow down their heads, 
The wind is passing through.       
— Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894) 

VII.  With my two arms

With my two arms, I do not aspire to touch the sky.
— Sappho (born c. 630-612 BC) 

IX. Most noble evergreen

Most noble
evergreen with your roots
in the sun:
you shine in the cloudless
sky of a sphere no earthly
eminence can grasp,
enfolded in the clasp
of ministries divine.

You blush like the dawn,
you burn like a flame
of the sun.
— Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179)

The Crossing

Katy Avery
Julie Bishop
Elijah Blaisdell
Karen Blanchard
Steven Bradshaw
Colin Dill
Micah Dingler
Robert Eisentrout
Allie Faulkner
Ryan Fleming
Joanna Gates
Steven Hyder
Heather Kayan
Heidi Kurtz
Chelsea Lyons
Maren Montalbano
Daniel O’Dea
Becky Oehlers
Alexandra Porter
Daniel Schwartz
Rebecca Siler
Daniel Spratlan
Ryan Strand
Jason Weisinger 

Donald Nally, conductor
John Grecia, keyboards