MoM 1 Notes 2022
THE MONTH OF MODERNS 1: THE BOOKS OF COLOR AND NEVER
The Crossing
Donald Nally, conductor
Saturday, June 11, 2022 @ 7pm
The Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill
PROGRAM
The Book of Never (2022) Aaron Helgeson
— world premiere —
Passions of other people…
(The world’s a town)
Burns I’d like to forget…
(The world’s a town)
Tears I’ve never wept
(The world’s a town)
Names of things I once believed…
commissioned by the Barlow Endowment for Music Competition
at Brigham Young University
with generous support from the Chicago Center for Contemporary Composition
at the University of Chicago
The Book of Colors (2022) Marcos Balter
— world premiere —
1. The purest hue
2. Stubborn Green
3. We glide through the blue like an arrow
4. A hiss of dust through the air of the night
commissioned by The Crossing and San Diego Master Chorale
Darest thou now O soul? (2022) Gabriel Jackson
— world premiere —
a gift from the composer, at the request of Steven Hyder,
in celebration of Donald Nally’s 60th birthday
This concert is being recorded for broadcast by our partner WRTI 90.1 FM,
Philadelphia’s Classical and Jazz Public Radio Station
NOTES + TEXTS
The Book of Never
music and text by Aaron Helgeson, adapted from the Novgorod Codex, with words by Oscar Wilde, Pablo Neruda, Angela Davis, The Rolling Stones, Andre Singer, Gertrude Stein, and Thanha Lai
commissioned by the Barlow Endowment for Music Competition at Brigham Young University with generous support from the Chicago Center for Contemporary Composition at the University of Chicago
a note from the composer:
The Book of Never lasts two thirds of an hour. But it took one thousand years to make.
It begins with the Novgorod Codex, a wooden book of psalms from 999 A.D. owned by Isaakiy, a monk living in the Ukrainian village of Novgorod, sent to convert the town from Paganism to Orthodox Christianity. But when word of Isaakiy’s use of Pagan ritual reached the church elite, he and the entire village were excommunicated for heresy. Through destruction of sacred icons, texts, and writing tools, this meant a complete erasure of any written records of Novgorod, its language, and its religion.
And so, Isaakiy set out to save the collective memory of Novgorod. Using his wooden book as a writing tablet, he poured dozens of wax layers over the psalms carved into its pages, marking each with text, and making paper rubbings of the words he was attempting to preserve—his dualistic prayers, the first written instances of the Rus’ alphabet, sarcastic and scathing commentary on his banishment, even visions of the apocalypse. Isaakiy’s paper rubbings are lost to the decay of time, but scratches on the wood and wax remain.
There they stayed, out of sight until discovered in the year 2000 (exactly one millennium later) among the ancient remnants of Novgorod, perfectly preserved in mud, with thousands of tiny glyphs scratched into a mass of hardened and broken wax. The codex was quickly taken to the world’s foremost Slavonic linguist, Andrei Zaliznyak, who meticulously parsed through the overlapped writing to find letters, then words, then phrases. The resulting text is somewhere between liturgy, the chanting of a vindictive spell, a recitation of sins, and a grammar lesson.
The Book of Never freely collages text fragments from English translations of the Novgorod Codex with individual words and phrases by twentieth century writers in exile:
Oscar Wilde’s scathing letter to his lover Alfred Douglas written while imprisoned for his homosexuality
The Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main Street recorded by the band in France while avoiding tax debt.
Chilean expat Pablo Naruda’s epic history of the Americas in Cantos General.
An interview with philosopher and black rights activist Angela Davis from the Marin County Women’s Detention Facility
the poetry of musician and holocaust survivor Andre Singer.
Thanhhà Lại’s autobiographical verse novel Inside Out and Back Again about the young daughter of a Vietnamese refuge family growing up in Alabama.
Gertrude Stein’s prose poem Descriptions of Literature built from cryptic one-sentence description of books in the library she shared with her romantic partner Alice B. Tolkas.
The melodies and chords in The Book of Never were constructed solely from densely collaged fragments (only a few notes each) from the Stichera Alphabetica, a sequence of hymns sung in association with the psalms of the Novgorod Codex’s wooden tablets. The first letters of these hymns spell out the alphabet, echoing the alphabetic sequences found in the Novgorod Codex. These hymn fragments are layered on top of one another, juxtaposed, and harmonized with dense clusters built by simulating extremely long reverberations in digitally engineered virtual spaces.
The long story of The Book of Never has an uncanny epitaph. On a snowy day in December 2017, the precise day I started writing this music, Andrei Zaliznyak died before he could complete his work on the Novgorod Codex. That I would only learn this two years later haunts me to this day.
I. Passions of Other People…
O
oh, I wait…
oh…
oh, will I wait?
oh, why?
O Lord
…all hours
…all my people
all now
all I want…
How I long…
on my own now
all now
all now
…on my own now…
…and will to go now
oh, I’ll break now
oh, why alone?
oh, I’ll wait now.
…oh on my own…
O Lord
…all…
all gone…
I will go my own…
…on my own…
I will to go now
…now
…now
…now
…now
Go
you know…
I’m another…
my people
you go
I’ll go
…other people
…another
other people now…
go on…
And I’ll pain to go
my blood
know my blood…
…know my pain…
…I’m not in pain now
O Lord, I want to say
my silence
I’ll clean my hand
…my fair flesh
…and my eye
my flesh is clean
O Lord
Remember?
I remember now…
I know now…
I know you…
I’ll go now
I’ve no sympathy
…all my suffering…
…all my pain
…my pleasure
All alone, I will go
we suffer still
…I feel still
I sit still
we can be greater still
And I know
all my life…
oh, I’m lost
oh, I am gone
all through my years…
I know
…all my hidden life…
I’m lost in me
I will need…
…my love…
I know that I’m lost
…I wept
I will not break
…all my sorrow now
…you will stay
I know
I am gone
I will go
I’ll stay
I’ll remain
I know
I…
I…
I…
I…
I know now
….
….
….
….
I cry out from
nowhere
but I’m still here
I’m not here
I’ll be here
I’m here
I cry out for days
and years of
forever…
…for those of
whom we
only know
nothing…
…for those
whose pain
pours out of
the skies…
…like darkness
in the cold of
silence…
I’m new
I’ll be gone
I’m all of me now
I’ll love you
You led them…
I’ll be you
I’ll be you…
I’m whole
I’ll make you
whole
…you led them
by the hand…
I’ll be near you…
…now
I’m you…
Whole now…
…but you wouldn’t lead me…
…now
…now
…now
…now
…wouldn’t walk
with me…
I am not me
I am not myself
…now
…not now…
…through the darkness…
O…
O…
O…
O…
…through the cold…
…through the skies…
…through the silence…
O Lord
II. (The World’s A Town)
The world’s a town in which we cannot live
The world’s a town
The world’s a town where people breathe
The world’s a town in which we’re never meant to live
The world’s a town
The world’s a town we leave
The world’s a town!
III. Burns I’d Like to Forget…
Cling to me
Cling to me
Cling to my self
Cling to me, my people who pray
Cling to the anguish of my pain
Cling to my body
Cling to those who enthrone me
Cling now
Cling now
Cling to me
Cling to me, my people
Cling to the ones defenseless
Cling to my sadness
Cling to me
Cling to me
Cling to me
Cling now
Cling to me
Cling to me, my people who pray
Cling to the ones that have no water
Cling to my selfishness
Cling to my face
Cling to those who are weak
Cling to madness
Cling to me always
Cling to me and pray
Cling to me, my people who pray for pity
Cling to the ones that bury butterflies in the ground
Cling to the freedom of my anger
Cling to the side of me
Cling to those who are pitiful
Speak through my blood
Speak through the sacred
Speak through me now
Speak through all your silent souls
Speak through the imminent death
Speak through infinite night
Speak through my sweat and tears
Speak through the loud hurricane
Tell me
Tell me
Tell me
Tell me all their lies
Tell me if he’s ever alive
Tell me her envy
Tell me I’ll die
Tell me how I live
Shouting
Shouting
Shouting
Shouting now
Shouting at me
Shouting now
Shouting
Shouting
Shouting always
Shouting my name
Shouting ’til I drown
Shouting with celibate abandon
Shouting at me because I’m tired
Shouting at my baby boy
Shouting at the wall
Shouting from everywhere
Tell me now
Tell me now
Tell me my home
Tell me every other end
Tell me if he forgot his lies
Tell me her vanity
Tell me I’m a fool
Tell me how I kill a crowd
Tell me
Tell me
Tell me now
Tell me all of it\
Tell me if he’s away
Tell me her bounty
Tell me I’m free
Tell me how I’m wrong
Tell me always
Tell me my army
Tell me my country
Tell me insignificant lies to my face
Tell me if he abides a long and happy existence
Tell me her sleepless dreams and visions
Tell me I will always suffer
Tell me how I gather my villages
Chain my shoulders
Chain me
Chain the poor
Chain the people battling
Chain me for my peace and pleasure
Chains of molten fire
Chain me to the ocean
Chain me to leafless trees
Chain me
Chain me
Chain them
Chain the ignorant
Chain me for my pain
Chains of snow
Chain me to death
Chain me to dirt and grass
And you bow down
Chain—
Chain—
Chain them
Chain the old
Chain me—
Chain me—
Chain my soul
And you bow down
And you bow down to heaven with your tongue
And you bow down to God with your tongue
And you bow down to animals with your tongue
And the Lord commanded you to divide the sheep
And you parted the sheep
And you parted the others
And the people they drank the others
And the sheep of the sheep they drank
And the children they drank
And the greedy ones they drank
And the slaves they drank
And the weapons
Speak through my name
Speak through the word
Speak through me
Speak through all your anger
Speak through the adopted
Speak through all time
Speak through hours and days
Speak through the whirlwind
Speak through my everything
Speak through the imminence
Speak through me, my son
Speak through all your amazement
Speak through the abyss in which you faltered
Speak through insatiable glory
Speak through my words and my blood
Speak through the pestilent diseases
Cling now
Cling now
Cling to me
Cling to me, my people
Cling to the ones that hunger
Cling to my sorrow
Cling to me
Cling to me
Cling now
Cling now
Cling to me
Cling to me, my prayerful people
Cling to the ones that climb unending
Cling to my bitterness
Cling to my hand
Cling to those who are blind
Speak through me
Speak through the blood
Speak now
Speak through your deeds
Speak through idols
Speak through me
Speak through my eyes
Speak through me now
Speak through my words
Speak through the skies
Speak through me
Shouting at me
Shouting my name
Shouting always
Shouting in abysmal tones
Shouting at me and everyone
Shouting at my daughter
Shouting at me
Shouting from here
Shouting always
Shouting the call
Shouting until now
Shouting in a way that’s immortal
Shouting at me because I’m poor
Shouting at my angry son
Shouting at the door
Shouting from my ascent
Tell me now
Tell me now
Tell me my crown
Tell me the only impure
Tell me if he’s upon my neck
Tell me her every thought
Tell me I can go
Tell me how I overcome
Tell me my fate
Tell me my presence
Tell me my office
Tell me unquestionable superstitions
Tell me if his arrival looms inside of another
Tell me her almost instant pleasure
Tell me I’ll be always with you
Tell me how I break the immobile gods
Shouting all the echoes
Shouting the woman’s name
Shouting until it burns
Shouting in a panicked and horrible aside
Shouting at me because I’m not obeying angels
Shouting at my elders and my descendants
Shouting at the barren land
Shouting from my elegant window
(And...)
And the bows
And the arrows
And the trumpets, and the flags...
(And...)
...you put them in the shrine and kept them.
And the nations are wandering in the field
(And for the poor...)
And together the nations they drink a long and slowful drink
Not laying down their arms
(And for the poor...no drink)
(And for the poor...)
Even though they're thirsty for drink
(And for the poor...crumbs)
(And for the poor...filth)
(And for the poor...prison)
(And for the poor...sweat)
(And for the poor...vermin)
(And for the poor...nothing)
(And for the poor...nothing)
(…nothing)
(…nothing)
Speak through all your dead mouths
Speak through the seat of sin
Speak through all hours
Speak through teeth and nails
Speak through the locusts
Speak through my anger
Speak through the martyrdom
Speak through me, my child
Speak through all your innocent lives
Speak through the expanse on which you falter
Speak through oblivious silence
Speak through my head and my heart
Speak through water that is turned to blood
Speak through my non-existence
Speak through the unrelenting
Speak through me, my people
Speak through all your timeless buried sorrows
Speak through the stone on which you fell
Speak through intolerable sadness
Speak through my arms and my shoulders
Speak through the everlasting desert sand
Tell me now
Tell me my number
Tell me my name
Tell me all the absolute falsehoods
Tell me if his unyielding light is fading
Tell me her secret burdens
Tell me I’m forgotten
Tell me how I turned the other way
Shouting to me
Shouting the words
Shouting never
Shouting in my wounded ear
Shouting at my intolerance
Shouting at my brother
Shouting at me
Shouting all ways
Shouting all the lies
Shouting the dead man’s name
Shouting until you die
Shouting an always inverted sigh
Shouting at me because I haven’t told my name
Shouting at my mother and father
Shouting at the buildings
Shouting from the edifice
Chain my neck
Chain me
Chain the dead
Chain the young and healthy
Chain me for my guilt and shame
Chains of rope and cain
Chain me to the dark
Chain me to rock and sand
Chain my aching wrists
Chain me to myself
Chain the indigent
Chain the people waving their
flags above
Chain me for my blessings and my arrogance
Chains of human promulgation
Chain me to the everlasting
Chain me to earth and to black volcanoes
Chain me
Chain me
Chain them\
Chain their enemies
Chain me for my soul
Chains of snakes
Chain me to all
Chain me to carrion
And you bow down
IV. (The World’s A Town)
You ask me if the fires are burning down my land
(The world’s a town)
You ask me how I sleep at night
(The world’s a town in which we’ll never breathe)
You ask me if my brothers falling one by one has broken me
(The world’s a town we learn)
You ask me whether I approve of hate
(The world’s a town where people cannot pay their way)
You ask me if the crimes I’ve made are pure
(The world’s a town we leave)
You ask me if the judge they murdered could have known
(The world’s a town)
You ask me if the judge that they then stole will chain me in a cage
(The world’s a town in which my petty anger lives)
You ask me if the world makes any sense at all
(The world’s a town we’ll burn)
The world’s a town!
V. Tears I’ve Never Wept…
Blue sky is gray
and love and love
Gray hair is white
and love and toerment
White sail is yellow
and torment and fear
Yellow sun is red
and fear and quiet
Red blood is blue
and quiet sleep
Blue grass is green
and sleep and let go
Green forest is purple
and let go and give
Purple shadows are black
and forgive and understand
VI. (The World’s A Town)
A book invented for the sake of itself
(The world’s a town)
A book describing six and six and seventy-two
(Thw world’s a town)
A book which shows the next and best is to be found out when there is pleasure in the reason
(The world’s a town)
A book of dates and fears
(The world’s a town)
A book with more respect for all who have to hear and have heard it
(The world’s a town)
A book that is narrowly placed upon the shelf
(The world’s a town)
A book which has made all who read it think of the hope they have that sometime they will have fairly nearly all of it at once
(The world’s a town)
A book which manages to impress upon the young that those who oppse them follow them
(The world’s a town)
A book that makes the end come just as soon as it is intended
(The world’s a town)
A book which asks questions of everyone
VII. Names of Things I Once Believed…
All
Always
I am the book of silence
I am the mystery
All
Any
I am a perfect way of telling lies
I'm the single door of infinity
All
Over all
All along
I am the people and I am almost wholly saved
Oh
Only
I am not the prophet
I am the unsaid flattery and I'm the broken
Any
Over
Only
Always
Knowing
I am the dream and the waking night and the
all-encompassing fire of perdition
I'm the unaltered and the unwavering
strength
I am the independent words and I'm the
gratifying majesty of kindness
I am the darkened soul
I am worthy
I am heavy with the weight of all my prayers
and all my righteousness
Why
Waiting
End
Ever
All
Along
I am a thing and I am nothing
I’m still there
Simply there
I'm afraid
I am the sun and I'm the death of stars and I
am light itself
I am
I'm the life and the song and the world's
embrace unending
And I'm trying
And I am practicing to be seen
I'm seen
I am the deliverer of judgement and an
unearthly vision and I am loved
I'm here
I'm the ancient and the ever-present now and
I am all my pain
I am the people
I am an unwanted piece of rubble and I matter
I'm now
I am the story and the purpose
I am the slave and the broken
I'm the chosen name and the one you ask
when you are doubting
I am me before I knew I am myself
I'm myself
Oh God,
I don’t know them,
I don't know their pain,
I don't see them,
I just walk on by like I'd walk up a road to heaven.
Oh my God, what have I done?
O Lord
I don't want to love myself,
but I will try and see...
O dear Lord
...now.
The Book of Colors
music and text by Marcos Balter
Commissioned by The Crossing and San Diego Master Chorale
I. The Purest Hue
The purest hue, the kindest light,
In gold yellow, emerging,
Blasts in the void like music,
A thousand strings of glisten.
It glows neither warm nor cold,
Showering walls in amber.
The windows ablaze, wide open,
The air swarming with glitter
Inside the sluggish rooms that slumber,
Inventing lines and limits.
The world is quiet but breathing
And the streets are growing wider.
In vain, the clouds of smog above the city
Cast shadows in tall buildings.
And slowly, behind the red horizon,
A sudden blue arrives,
And, blending with the yellow, fades to silver.
II. Stubborn Green
Stubborn green sprouting from the barren tendril
Under the crumbled vestige
Of old dwellings and detritus, in insubordination.
Worthless wonder, glitchy marvel, freak of nature,
Hunting light in the thick of winter.
A weed is not flower, there is no garden.
III. We Glide Through the Blue Like an Arrow
We glide through the blue like an arrow as the wind blows,
The momentum beneath us making haste,
Flowing down the stream adrift and weightless.
The sound of the water reminds me of its color.
We fly like planes as we stare at the sky
And follow the river till the end of its journey.
IV. A hiss of dust through the air of the night
A hiss of dust though the air of the night, the ominous tinges of white
Erasing the frosted mountains in the distance.
A chilly hush lingers over the valleys as the snow falls, and the plains
Blanch every green like a monochromatic river.
Icy-cold hexagonal droplets drunkenly dancing to the silence,
Iridescent apposed to the brightness of the moon,
Surround the pine trees crowning the ridges.
Underneath the frozen waters there is life, sleeping.
Down below the bottom of the creek there is a quiet revolution
Thawing the stream in defiant bursts of warmth, presaging springtime.
A silvery line fractures the glacier.
A loud thunder from the darkness of the forest rings in the storm through the wind,
Deep and resounding.
A shivery feeling of emptiness
Casting shadows under the canopies,
Black and mysterious in their lightlessness,
Like demons in the heart of winter.
Darest thou now O soul?
music by Gabriel Jackson
words by Walt Whitman
A gift from the composer, at the request of Steven Hyder, in celebration of Donald Nally’s 60th birthday
a note from the composer:
Darest thou now O soul? was written as a gift for Donald Nally’s 60th birthday though due to various (probably) pandemic-related inadequacies on my part he didn’t actually receive it until the very end of his 60th birthday year. Donald is a huge admirer of Walt Whitman, as am I, having set Whitman texts in a number of other pieces, and if anyone dares to walk out “toward the unknown region” on an almost daily basis it is Donald, not just with The Crossing but in everything he does, it seems to me; it is that pioneering, visionary spirit of Donald’s, so eloquently (if retroactively) evoked by Whitman, that this piece seeks to celebrate.
To do any kind of justice to Whitman’s astonishing text the full panoply of possibilities afforded by a virtuoso group like The Crossing is clearly essential. The supreme strangeness of Whitman’s vision, as well as its almost-inexpressible ecstasy is recreated, I hope, by various distortions, prolongations (and sometimes compressions) of a conventional musical flow: the unnaturally protracted melismas, a mobile-yet-immobile cluster of six solo sopranos replete with “eternal” stutter-rhythm at the close for the unknown region itself; frequent juxtapositions of textures of great complexity with the utmost simplicity—a single thread of monody or even a brusque, super-brief chord; phrases that one would expect to be loud but are actually pianissimo, or a momentary shout in a sea of quietude that highlights the most unlikely word; a rhythmically complex tenor line, so jagged and ornate in its fervour, that it takes ten bars to articulate just five syllables; a murky netherworld of perpetually overlapping glissandos to underpin the sopranos’ ululations at “this inaccessible land”; the uprushing, gushing shouts of “O joy” that will not stop, so irrepressible is their need to celebrate. I hope that through these and other means I have done some justice to that land where “All waits undream’d of” and where we too might “float,/In Time and Space”, if only for a few celebratory minutes.
Darest thou now O Soul
DAREST thou now O soul,
Walk out with me toward the unknown region,
Where neither ground is for the feet nor any path to follow?
No map there, nor guide,
Nor voice sounding, nor touch of human hand,
Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land.
I know it not O soul,
Nor dost thou, all is a blank before us,
All waits undream'd of in that region, that inaccessible land.
Till when the ties loosen,
All but the ties eternal, Time and Space,
Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds bounding us.
Then we burst forth, we float,
In Time and Space O soul, prepared for them,
Equal, equipt at last, (O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfil O
soul.
TEAM
The Crossing
Katy Avery
Nathaniel Barnett
Jessica Beebe
Steven Berlanga
Karen Blanchard
Steven Bradshaw
Colin Dill
Micah Dingler
Ryan Fleming
Joanna Gates
Dimitri German
Steven Hyder
Michael Jones
Lauren Kelly
Anika Kildegaard
Heidi Kurtz
Maren Montalbano
Rebecca Myers
James Reese
Daniel Schwartz
Rebecca Siler
Tiana Sorenson
Daniel Spratlan
Elisa Sutherland
Donald Nally, conductor
Kevin Vondrak, assistant conductor
John Grecia, keyboards
Ryan Flemming, John Walthausen, guest rehearsal accompanist
Paul Vazquez, sound design
Jonathan Bradley, executive director
Stephanie Lantz-Goldstein, development manager
Shannon McMahon, operations manager
Elizabeth Dugan, bookkeeper
Sam Scheibe, summer associate
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