Not Legendary

"Here Is How" B-Side

2010-07-19T05:16:00.000-07:00

If this record were to have a single, it would be "Here Is How". If that single were to have a B-Side, it would be The Prophet.

DOWNLOAD THE ALBUM

2010-05-09T18:13:00.001-07:00

My awesome sysadmin offered to host the whole album, so here it is for the downloading!

Awwwwww yeah

En Plus - As the Story Says

2010-04-20T06:46:00.000-07:00

So those of you who arrived here after seeing the link in the CD jacket will notice that there is an extra song to the nine songs for chamber orchestra and soloist. This is the bonus track, and I brought back in Taliesin, because his story is just so great!

I spent a bunch of time last summer reading the Mabinogion, the Celtic folk-bible, and the story of Gwion Bach and Ceridwen is a typical chase story - he accidentally drinks the useful part of her potion, she gets upset and chases him. He, now that he has magical potion-given powers, turns into a hare, and she turns into a hound; he turns into a fish, she turns into an otter; he turns into a bird, she turns into a hawk; he figures he'd better give up running and hide, and he turns into a grain; she turns into a hen and eats him.

And here's the part that makes it an awesome folktale: she gets pregnant, and bears him for nine months. And then, when he is born, she can't find it in her heart to kill him, so she throws him into the sea in a leather bag.

And she went forth after him, running. And he saw her, and changed himself into a hare and fled. But she changed herself into a greyhound and turned him. And he ran towards a river, and became a fish. And she in the form of an otter-bitch chased him under the water, until he was fain to turn himself into a bird of the air. She, as a hawk, followed him and gave him no rest in the sky. And just as she was about to stoop upon him, and he was in fear of death, he espied a heap of winnowed wheat on the floor of a barn, and he dropped among the wheat, and turned himself into one of the grains. Then she transformed herself into a high-crested black hen, and went to the wheat and scratched it with her feet, and found him out and swallowed him. And, as the story says, she bore him nine months, and when she was delivered of him, she could not find it in her heart to kill him, by reason of his beauty. So she wrapped him in a leathern bag, and cast him into the sea to the mercy of God, on the twenty- ninth day of April.

The writing in this translation is amazing - turns of phrases like "And she went forth after him, running" and "he was fain to turn himself into a bird" and "as she was about to stoop upon him" and "she transformed herself into a high-crested black hen" (that one in particular I love, because it is so detailed! Does it matter what kind of hen? Apparently!) and "as the story says" and the fact that it gives the date she throws him into the water - I love it. I also love the conflicting emotions that come out of Ceridwen's situation. She hates Gwion Bach, he has stolen from her, he has taken her son's chance at life... But once she has borne him 9 months, she has that motherhood thing happening, he is a beautiful, she can't kill him, so she throws him into the sea - "to the mercy of God".

So here is a lullaby from her perspective, which is called "As the Story Says" which I didn't actually write down until after I'd recorded it (so it isn't a part of the grad project), but which is pitch pipe multiphonics and an improvised melody that after I'd recorded it a couple of times and layered it sounded sort of neat. When I did end up writing it down, I did it as an alto solo with A drone and "contrasting improvisation for any group of instruments". There is a video of my friends Jess, Andrew, and Nathan performing it here.

Here is what it sounds like:
As the Story Says

As the Story Says

If you are a thief
I shall chase you
If you are a hare
I shall be a hound
If you are a fish
I shall swim an otter-bitch
And if you are a bird
I shall fly a hawk
And give you no rest in the sky

If you become a grain
I shall swallow you
and bear you
and deliver you

But if you are beautiful
I will not kill you
I'll cast you into the sea
To the mercy of God

Album Art

2010-04-06T18:15:00.000-07:00

By amazing artist Rob Singleton

Further Revision and Updates!

2009-11-01T18:27:00.001-08:00

So there have been a lot of changes in the month and a half I haven't been posting here. I am well on my way to finishing 8 of the 10 songs, which is pretty exciting! I cut one completely because I did not like the words or the premise. I have also revised the text, quite a bit MORE.

Linda had me go through each song and pick out the message I want to get across through the text and the music. Here is the downlow on a bunch of the songs:

Desert is the new title for Hagar's song. Because it is about desertion, and takes place in, you guessed it, a desert! It's an alto solo, and I'm attempting to cause the music to spiral downward into depression. Here are the revised lyrics:

Desert

Bread and water, bread and water
Would that I had borne a daughter
So you wouldn't send me away

Sent us to parch in the desert sun
Now after all that you have done
Do you think I would take you back?

I'm not a poet, but I'll deal in metaphor
You are the lamest of asses
You have not two, but five faces

Run to the hills for my life and my child
To think, to think, you smiled and smiled
To me you are forever a villain

If there is no water, if there is no well
I will have no story to tell
I don't want to watch my son die

I am awake but not really awake
The angel stopped my knife to say,
"If you suicide, no one will take you seriously!"

The next piece, the one about Psyche's Sister (which is called "Psyche's Sister" because I am so gosh-darned imaginative) is all about the cruelty of the gods through love. I didn't change the text too much since my last edit, because it is pretty clear, but I have been working on it! The "Arrows" refrain is in canon, and I totally wrote a canon using Nadia Boulanger's "Box Method" which is pretty neat. I have CUT guitar from my chamber orchestra: I don't know how to write for it, and this project is ambitious enough as is.

The piece about Sati, called "Tandava/Lasya" I edited a whole bunch! I have removed entirely the voice of Shiva, so it has become a song about inner conflict, that feeling of being trapped where Sati just can't make everyone happy, so she basically explodes from the pressure. Explodes into FLAME, that is. Man.
I have written this bouncy, dance-like bassline and melody which are totally at odds with the rather depressing moral of the song, but which I like anyway.
Revised text:

Tandava/Lasya

I get down, so down, 'cause my parents can be cruel
Then, then, the endless duel
'tween self and the other

My husband is intangible, ascetic, four-armed
Does not meet approval with my father or my mother.

My father is angry
And anger's a hell of a drug

The fire like an oil lamp, a stranger in my head
The colour of space, the colour of dread, oh
If I am dead to you, I truly shall be dead!

"Song of the Drekavac" is turning into this gorgeous, spooky, dissonant choral piece with shifting, quiet, low brass chords and something moving in the dark. The text is the same. The message is "fear of being forgotten and abandoned," Linda called it "a nursery rhyme for the dead" which is sort of interesting.

"Do You Miss the Sea?" also hasn't suffered too many edits! I cut out one or two bits, but the point comes across! More indecision, but instead of Sati's trapped place, it's "wavering" between two loves: the selkie has more of a choice. I've set it up so that there is a moving eighth note pattern, shifting between two notes, and the whole piece sits in this one sonority which changes by inversion only.

Aso's song, "Here Is How" hasn't changed much yet, but I haven't worked on it too much.

Azrael's story got a new title to explain it, because it is so abstract! It's now called "The Angel of Death Feels Pity for a Hapless World" which sums up exactly what I am trying to get across. It's blues! Linda has been getting me to listen to New Orleans funeral music, which is pretty incredible stuff. I am trying to maintain the simplicity of the blues form, but stretch it in strange directions and undercut it with non-blues sounds and rhythms in the orchestration. I have to find a low, low alto for it, too, because it goes down to a low E or D or something. SUPER low.

"Clementine" is much the same as it was, lyric-wise. I have been listening to Gavin Bryar's "Jesus' Blood" and Berio's "Folksongs" for inspiration, and I am pretty excited for how it is going to turn out. We decided the message in it is one of Betrayal and Regret.

I can't figure out what to do with "Dunyazade"! We got the message--it's about Secrets and the Shadow Sister--but I can't figure out what to do melodically, particularly with that long section of stories! Linda suggested a duet illustrating how Dunyazade teaches Scheherezade her stories, but I don't know. I might just cut it all together.

I cut Taliesin all together. Boo on Taliesin.

"The Prophet" is back in as a Major Player. I like that it's from the perspective of someone watching a non-legendary person try to make a name for himself. I think I'm going to sing it myself, which will be kind of cool, and that it will use all the instruments in my chamber orchestra. I have the song itself written already, since I recorded it on my computer last year as a 'girl and guitar' kind of thing, so I'm just orchestrating! I like orchestrating, especially when I know the song so well.
Here is the text:

The Prophet

What kind of idea are you?
Are you man or mouse?
Your speech has the metre of camel paces
Your voice has the accent of far-off places

Wonderland, Peristan, Never-Never, Oz
You came to wrap your wounds in gauze
And found you could not return
So you preached a revolution
Of water carriers, of immigrants, of slaves
Of prophets stowed away in caves

Realizing your words were less than a farce
You replaced your tongue with a piece of your arse
Whereupon you wept until
Your eyes ran out of salt to cry
And you could do nothing but dream dry-eyed

Dreamed a drought, dreamed destruction
Dreamed dollars and dimes,
Days and nights,
Deities and devils
You dreamed a revolution for me
You dreamed a revelation for me
Then you dreamed disillusion and disgust
And I had to disagree
I had to disagree

More-or-Less Finalized Libretto

2009-09-23T14:09:00.000-07:00

You guys, Linda Catlin Smith is the best, the best. I am so super excited for this, now! Even more than I was before! I have done a bunch of work on the music so far, and I think it is going to be the best thing I've ever written. Here is a revised libretto, after Linda and I went through it together.

Dunyazade

I sit
At the foot of the bed
While she tells her four-hundred-ninety-first tale
Sinbad, Aladdin, genies and old gods
And plies him with drink

I flinch when she mistakes a phrase
When recitation falters
They are my stories
But she gets the glory
No one looks at a plain girl
At the foot of the bed

She can tell a thousand-and-one tales
Keep him for herself
But I have many more
At the foot of the bed
They live in my head

Ximena and the Cid,
Finn MacCool lies in the Irish hillsides,
Arthur in Avalon and Barbarossa in his cave
And the Worm Ouroboros on the bed of the Sundering Sea
Bran the Blessed and his sister-brave
The Wandjina take their ease underground,
Popeye and Yahweh (I yam what I AM)
And somewhere, somewhere in a tangle of thorns
Swashbuckles, bawdiness, tea and jam
A beauty in a glass coffin awaits a kiss
The Argo sails for the Golden Fleece
Here is my flask, I'll drink some wine
And I must sit at the foot of the bed
And then, like Van Winkle,
I'll lay me down to sleep

Judgement Day

Poor Azrael, he has a lousy job
Stealing breath from the angry mob
It's a choice a choice to make or leave
Between the devil and the deep blue sea

Azrael, he warns of Circe of lemmings he frowns
The Pied Piper of Hamelin town
That angel leads toward the ocean, promises you'll walk on dry ground
Promises a Moses-Parting shrouded though by clouds a-sparking

Cruel, cruel, hard tack and gruel
To make the unaware dig their own graves
He had no quarrel with you, did he? Did she?
"To Hell! You didn't know me."

Of what type
Angelic, Satanic,
Carnal, spiritual
Is this song?
Let's put it this way:
Who has the best tunes?

Psyche's Sister

Why must holy places be dark places?
The air is sweeter away from holiness

Arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows. And eros. And arrows.

Everything's dark about the gods
They hint and hover and draw near in dreams
Become your lover but restrict your means
If he loves you, he will let you see!

Arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows. And eros. And arrows.

You cannot look upon him without light
Since he only comes to you in the night
You cannot see face to face
And this, this is supposed to be grace!

Arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows. And eros. And arrows.

And all I can do is say I am sorry
Is sort seeds, herd sheep, lose sleep
I am also Psyche!
Mark the cruelty of the gods to men:
We love, and we lose love
And we love again

Arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows and arrows and arrows and arrows and arrows and arrows...

Clementine

In a canyon, in a cavern...

Sang Clementine, sang mine, sang forty-nine
Sang me sandals made of boxes
And 18 karat golden thread
You told me I was beautiful,
You came into my bed

Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine

I saw your eyes on her face
I thought so, but I didn't say so
Drank myself into slow-mo
And then, and then, oh
You bereft me of house and home
And left me in a canyon, in a cavern, alone

Drove her ducklings to the water
Oh where, oh where does your soul reside?
Every morning just at nine
Is it in your eyes or between your thighs?
Hit her foot against a splinter
I told you I loved you, but you didn't hear
Fell into the foaming brine
If I fall in, I could disappear!

How I missed her! How I missed her,
How I missed my Clementine,
But I kissed her little sister,
I forgot my Clementine.

Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling, Clementine!
Thou art lost and gone forever
Dreadful sorry, Clementine

Dreadful sorry, Clementine
Oh my darling Clementine

Tandava/Lasya

Sati! Beloved! I would dance the whole world into ruins
If only to bring you back

I get down, so down, 'cause my parents can be cruel
Then, then, an endless duel
Between my Self and my Other:
"My husband is intangible, ascetic, four-armed;
Does not meet approval with my father or my mother."

I will dance gravity and levity and heaven and
A deep but dazzling darkness
Until, oh until all that is left are my legs in the sand

My father is angry
And anger's a hell of a drug
The fire like an oil lamp, a stranger in my head
The colour of space, the colour of dread, oh,
If I am dead to you, then I shall truly be dead!

You are the lover and the griever
You are the anger
You are the dance

Do You Miss the Sea?

Handsome as sin and twice as virtuous
Bad breath, good heart, full of sorrows
Took my skin and my breath away
Did away with all my tomorrows

Do you miss the sea?
Do you, do you miss the sea?
And oh, what can I say
My heart is here, but there I'm free

Where have I to flee?
I've seven on land and
Seven in the sea,
You'd be lucky, oh my love
Your nets would be full
Your way would be clear
I'd watch my children from the waves
But I would never return

I stir my tears into spicy soup
And give it to my children to drink
They too shall miss the sea, the sea

Stranger Things

Bread and water, bread and water
Would that I had borne a daughter!
So you wouldn't send me away

Ride in on Al-Buraq
Do you think I would take you back?
After all that you have done?

I'm not a poet, but I'll deal in metaphor
You are the lamest of asses
Not two, but five faces

And they called you noble!
Noble! No--not really.
Noble? No, not ever, never

Run for my life and the life of my child
To think, to think, you smiled and smiled
To me you are forever a villain

I am awake, but not really awake
The angel stopped my knife to say
"If you suicide, no one will take you seriously!"

Here Is How

I weave as well as the gods!
Don't tell me otherwise
Arachne has nothing on me
And I am already a spider

I shall weave a hegemony
Of superstition, of mumbo-jumbo
Of all things magical
I don't give a fig for the gods!

I have flax-golden tales to spin
And webs of deception to weave
It was I who brought stories from Nyame
My lies make you seem uncanny

Judge for yourself if I'm potent or im
I made the masks for the things you have been
I will whisper my plans in your spider-ear!
I'll have your children and your answers, my dear

It is a tall order
Not so tall you can't reach
And here is how, here is how
Here is how, here is how
To complete the inconceivable
Do you know what that means?

Song of the Drekavac

Violets are blue
Roses are red
Remember me
When I am dead, dead, dead

When I was young
I breathed Heaven
But they left me, left me in Hell

I'll keep on growing growing growing
But I'll never grow up!
I'll never be a man!

Hear me weep,
Hear my cry!
I am an owl,
A dog,
A wisp of smoke

I know nothing, but dream of everything
They don't tell you what comes after death
I am a child and like a child
I fear the things in the dark

There is something moving in the dark

Dyma dal Iesin

Fair Elfin, cease your lament!
....Though I am weak and small,
On the wave crest of the surging sea,
I shall be better for you
Than three hundred shares of salmon.

Elfin of noble generosity,
Do not sorrow at your catch.
Though I am weak on the floor of my basket,
There are wonders on my tongue....''

I was fed on words, words, words
But also on love
And I love your long shadows and gunpowder eyes
Grey-with-an-a and grey-with-an-e

I shall be better for you...

I have been slave and hare, fish and bird
And all too beautiful to kill
...On the wave crest of the the surging sea
I am weak on the floor of my basket...
But I would kill for the taste of your hair
I would die for the look in your eyes

Come sing with me, and be my love
And we will some purpose, some pleasure, prove
Do not sorrow at your catch...
There's nothing but trouble outside my head
Nothing but miracles within
There are wonders on my tongue....

I once dreamt I had you
Thus I have you!
Have you not heard?
"All our joys are but fantastical"

Sati

2009-09-13T18:59:00.000-07:00

This is the last one!
The thing with all these poems is that I shall be altering them greatly. Trimming them and substituting words to fit music. You know?
This last set of lyrics is partially thanks to Owen Pallett's "Graveyard of Lyrics" he is not going to use. I didn't use any directly, really, but was much inspired by the rhythm and feel.
As so:

Tandava/Lasya

My father looks at life
Through the wrong end of a telescope
He sees a long long way but barely a future
And there are a thousand stars more in my sky

They said I must be free from vice
They told me that my skin was spice
I was the lover and the griever,
I was the anger, I was the dance

I get down, so down, 'cause my parents can be cruel
Then, then, an endless duel
Between Self and the Other:
"My husband is intangible, ascetic, four-armed
And does not approve of my father or my mother."

My father is angry
And anger's a hell of a drug
The fire like an oil lamp, a stranger in my head
The colour of space, the colour of dread, oh,
If I am dead to you, then I shall truly be dead!

Sati! Beloved! I would dance the whole world into ruins
If only to bring you back
I will dance gravity and levity and heaven and
A deep but dazzling darkness
Until, oh until all that is left are my legs in the sand

You are the lover and the griever
You are the anger
You are the dance

Hagar

2009-09-04T05:02:00.000-07:00

Man, Abraham was a *jerk*.

Stranger Things

Bread and water, bread and water
Would that I had borne a daughter!
So you wouldn't send me away

Ride in on Al-Buraq
Do you think I would take you back?
After all that you have done?

I'm not a poet, but for you I'll deal in metaphor
You are the lamest of asses
You've not two, but five faces

And they called you noble!
Noble! No--not really.
Noble! No! Not ever! Never!

Run for my life and the life of my child
To think, to think, you smiled and smiled
To me you are forever a villain

I am awake, but not really awake
The angel stopped my knife to say
"If you suicide, no one will take you seriously!"

Aso

2009-09-01T20:21:00.000-07:00

Anansi's longsuffering wife. I find in stories like this, and even in Brer Rabbit and other such tales, the hero always goes home to his wife, and she comes up with a plan, and the hero still gets the credit.
Here is the credit to Aso.

Here Is How

I weave as well as the gods!
Don't tell me otherwise
Arachne has nothing on me
And I am already a spider

I shall weave a hegemony
Of superstition, of mumbo-jumbo
Of all things magical
I don't give a fig for the gods!

You are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar
A moocher, a trickster, a magic-bean-buyer
You are the pretender, Anansi the spider
Come sit and pretend by my hearth, by my fire

For I have your flax-golden tales to spin
And webs of deception to weave
It was I who brought stories from Nyame
My lies make you seem uncanny

Judge for yourself if I'm potent or im
I made the masks for the things you have been
I will whisper my plans in your spider-ear!
I'll have your children and your answers, my dear

It is a tall order
Not so tall you can't reach
And here is how, here is how
Here is how, here is how
To complete the inconceivable
Do you know what that means?

Tentatively and Subject to Much Change

2009-08-21T07:10:00.000-07:00

A Selkie

2009-08-19T08:00:00.000-07:00

So I did a bunch of research into selkies and finfolk--it's pretty interesting stuff! There's a school of thought that suggests it wasn't originally a Celtic folktale, that it came from the Vikings, Iceland, the Faroese, and that the original selkies were fur-clad Finns who kept to themselves and were all mysterious and seemingly magical and therefore untrusted. I tried to find a translation of Kópakvæði which is this enormous, 68-verse Faroese ballad and had a bit of success--I know what the story is, at least.

So I wondered, why are these tales never from the selkie's point of view? Some of them had lives and children and probably would have been completely happy on land, if it weren't for their seaward compulsions.
I think I want this to be a solo for alto, with viola, english horn, string bass, guitar, and piano. And maybe marimba.

Do You Miss the Sea?

Handsome as sin and twice as virtuous
Bad breath, good heart, full of sorrows
Took my skin and my breath away
Did away with all my tomorrows

He asks me every other day
Do you miss the sea?
Do you, do you miss the sea?
And oh, what can I say
My heart is here, but there I'm free

It hurts well, but oh so much
Away from my home
Or away from his touch?

Where have I to flee?
I've seven on land and
Seven in the sea,
You'll be lucky, oh my love
Your nets will be full
Your way will be clear
I'll watch my children from the waves
But I would never return

I stir my tears into spicy soup
And give it to my children to drink
They too shall miss the sea, the sea

Taliesin

2009-08-01T07:50:00.000-07:00

When I was younger I was really into Arthurian literature--not all of it, of course. Stephen Lawhead wrote my favourite version of things and I love his portrayal of Taliesin as a young man, who doesn't really believe he is the last true bard, who doesn't know his own power, and who just wants the girl he loves to love him back. I got the first two verses from here (it is translated from The Mabinogion). Every album needs a love song! The title is what Elphin said when he pulled Taliesin from the waves; it means "This is a radiant brow."

I think this is going to be a tenor solo, except for the first two verses which will maybe be alto/soprano duet? There will probably be an instrumental bridge separating them from the rest of the song as well. I think 'cello, trumpet, oboe, piano so far?

Dyma Dal Iesin

Fair Elffin, cease your lament!
....Though I am weak and small,
On the wave crest of the the surging sea,
I shall be better for you
Than three hundred shares of salmon.

Elffin of noble generosity,
Do not sorrow at your catch.
Though I am weak on the floor of my basket,
There are wonders on my tongue....''

I was fed on words, words, words
But also on love
And I love your long shadows and gunpowder eyes
Grey-with-an-a and grey-with-an-e

I have been slave and hare, fish and bird
And all too beautiful to kill
But I would kill for the taste of your hair
I would die for the look in your eyes

If I lived a thousand years from now, I'd
Bury my love in seven inches of echo
I would happily end all the tales there are
If only to see your face aglow

Come sing with me, and be my love
And we will some purpose, some pleasure, prove
There's nothing but trouble outside my head
Nothing but miracles within

I once dreamt I had you
Thus I have you!
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
All our joys are but fantastical!

The Myling

2009-08-01T07:39:00.000-07:00

The Myling is a character from Slavic folklore, and much like the Drekavac, is thought to be the soul of an unbaptized and abandoned or murdered child. Most tales refer to these creatures as horrifying things that force men to carry them to graveyards (an impossible feat, since they grow heavier until the carrier is embedded in the ground), or simply haunt those that killed or abandoned them. I prefer to look at these spirits as pitiful. Lonely children, left to die, left to the mercy of the dark. You know? It's upsetting.

Imagine this piece as a dirge, four-part harmony, minor, accompanied by sustained, blurry piano and horn, trumpet, and trombone all in their lowest, muddiest registers.

Song of the Drekavac

Violets are blue
Roses are red
Remember me
When I am dead, dead, dead

When I was young
I breathed Heaven
But they left me, left me in Hell

I'll keep on growing growing growing
But I'll never grow up!
I'll never be a man!

Hear me weep,
Hear my cry!
I am an owl, a dog, a wisp of smoke
I am the spirit of a wandering legend

I know nothing, but dream of everything
They don't tell you what comes after death
I am a child and like a child
I fear the things in the dark
(There is something moving in the dark)

Psyche's Sister

2009-07-27T19:35:00.000-07:00

I love C.S. Lewis. I mean, I know he's all Christian and stuff, but if you can see beyond the allegory, he has a brilliance for story. My favourite work of his is a book called Till We Have Faces, which is a re-telling of the Psyche/Eros myth. This song was inspired by that book's point of view, of Psyche's sister, who loved her.

I want the refrain of "arrows and arrows..." to be sung by three voices in canon, and I'm considering having it continue as counterpoint to the soloist (probably soprano) during the verses. Instrumentation: viola, cello, string bass, english horn, oboe, horn, guitar, soprano (soloist), alto, tenor, bass.

In Complaint Against the Gods

Why must holy places be dark places?
The air is sweeter away from holiness
Everything's dark about the gods
They hint and hover and draw near in dreams
Become your lover but restrict your means
If he loves you, he will let you see!
You cannot look upon him without light
Since he only comes to you in the night
You cannot see face to face
And this, this is supposed to be grace!

Arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows. And eros. And arrows.

Psyche, Psyche, my only love.
I am a great queen.
I have killed a man
To leave your home
To lose a love
To bear a child
These are all deaths--
But to lose you was the worst, the worst!

Arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows. And eros. And arrows.

And I thought that anything might be true
But I would not, could not, let him have you
I had nothing in the world to love but you
My heart is food for the gods!
Food the gods must have
Even when the land starves

Arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows. And eros. And arrows.

Aphrodite, Aphrodite
Bitch, lover, goddess almighty
You pulled yourself from the sea like the waves
(Then denied us love and took us as slaves)

Arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows. And eros. And arrows.

And all I can do is say I am sorry
Is sort seeds, herd sheep, lose sleep
I am also Psyche!
Mark the cruelty of the gods to men:
We love, and we lose love
And we love again

Arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows, and arrows and arrows and arrows and arrows and arrows and arrows...

Clementine

2009-07-04T06:30:00.001-07:00

The lyrics of folksongs have always intrigued me. Who came up with these--usually sad--tales? Are they rooted in truth? Many of them have really dark undertones (check out "The Wind and Rain" which has many versions, all of which involve a girl being pushed into the river to drown, being fished out and turned into a fiddle--even with somewhat graphic descriptions of which of her body parts made which parts of a grisly instrument. WHAT). Anyway, the commonly known version of the folksong "Clementine" leaves out the last verse, which goes like this:

How I missed her! How I missed her,
How I missed my Clementine,
But I kissed her little sister,
I forgot my Clementine.

When I first learnt about this mysteriously omitted last verse, it occurred to me that this unfaithful lover of Clementine's was more likely the reason for her untimely demise than "hitting her foot against a splinter." Suicide! Scandal! Treachery!

I pay tribute to two of my favourite songs in this text, both of which are called "Clementine". One is by a band called The Decemberists, the other by Elliot Smith. I also incorporated a lot of the original text, since it's quite poignant, and I want to play on the original folk tune Nico-style.
Instrumentation thus far: soprano, alto, baritone; viola, guitar, horn, trombone, and whistling.
Here goes.

Clementine
In a canyon, in a cavern...

Sang Clementine, sang mine, sang forty-nine
Sang me sandals made of boxes
And 18 karat golden thread
You told me I was beautiful,
You came into my bed

Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine...

I saw your eyes on her face
I thought so, but I didn't say so
Drank myself into slow-mo
And then, and then, oh
You bereft me of house and home
And left me in a canyon, in a cavern, alone

BRIDGE

Drove her ducklings to the water
Oh where, oh where does your soul reside?
Every morning just at nine
Is it in your eyes or between your thighs?
Hit her foot against a splinter
I told you I loved you, but you didn't hear
Fell into the foaming brine
If I fall in, I could disappear!

How I missed her! How I missed her,
How I missed my Clementine,
But I kissed her little sister,
I forgot my Clementine.

Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling, Clementine!
Thou art lost and gone forever
Dreadful sorry, Clementine

Dreadful sorry, Clementine
Oh my darling Clementine

Cast

2009-05-27T07:52:00.000-07:00

The characters I'm writing songs about--a couple are still subject to change, and so is the track order.

Dunyazade, Scheherezade's sister.
Azrael, the Archangel of Death.
Orual, Psyche's sister.
Clementine, lost and gone forever?
Sati, Shiva's first wife.
A selkie, from Icelandic/Faroese folktales.
Hagar, Abraham's second wife, the mother of Ishmael.
Aso, Anansi's wife.
The Myling, the Drekavac, souls of unbaptized, murdered children in Slavic mythology.
Taliesin, the greatest bard in Britain.

Love songs, a suicide song, stories, a wild dance or maybe two, who is to say?

Oh, right, me. Back to work.

Azrael

2009-05-20T05:51:00.001-07:00

Man, I get so much from Salman Rushdie. In The Satanic Verses there is a segment depicting a young woman who leads a group of people on a pilgrimage--they consider her a goddess, and so follow her into the ocean where they disappear. That story is what the second verse refers to.

"Judgement Day" is the song most fully formed already--I recorded it as a vocals + bass thing a while ago, and am happy enough with the melody I have that I think I can orchestrate it and write it out in musical notation without too much more tweaking. I haven't dealt with the last verse/outtro-thing yet, though, so we'll see what happens.

Instrumentation for this song is probably going to be string bass, muted trumpet, trombone, and maybe horn, depending on how much I am digging thick brass chords.

Judgement Day
Poor Azrael, he has a lousy job
Stealing breath from the angry mob
It's a choice, a choice to make or leave
Between the devil and the deep blue sea

Azrael, he warns of Circe of lemmings he frowns
The Pied Piper of Hamelin town
That angel leads toward the ocean, promises you'll walk on dry ground
Promises a Moses-Parting shrouded though by clouds a-sparking

Cruel, cruel, hard tack and gruel
To make the unaware dig their own graves
He had no quarrel with you, did he? Did she?
"To Hell! You didn't know me."

Of what type
Angelic, Satanic,
Carnal, spiritual
Is this song?
Let's put it this way:
Who has the best tunes?

Dunyazade

2009-05-17T06:27:00.000-07:00

To tell you the truth, Dunyazade and this poem were the inspiration for the entire album. Dunyazade was Scheherezade's younger sister, the one who asked for a new story every night. These are words I wrote a while ago; some are inspired by Salman Rushdie's The Moor's Last Sigh, and I am not afraid to admit it. Can I set them to music? This is the question.

Dunyazade

I sit
At the foot of the bed
While she tells her four-hundred-ninety-first tale
Sinbad, Aladdin, genies and old gods
And plies him with drink
Gin in a bottle, djinn in a bottle

I am the younger-sister, listening
I flinch when she mistakes a phrase
When her recitation falters
Histories, mysteries, mystories
Her face gets all the glory
No one looks at a plain girl with lively-eyes
At the foot of the bed

Remembers a thousand-and-one tales
She will keep him forever, forherself
But I have so many more
At the foot of the bed
They live in my head

Ximena and the Cid,
Arthur in Avalon and Barbarossa in his cave
Bran the Blessed and his sister-brave
Popeye and Yahweh (I yam what I AM)
Swashbuckles, bawdiness, tea and jam
The Argo sails for the Golden Fleece
And I must sit at the foot of the bed

Finn MacCool lies in Irish hillsides,
The Worm Ouroboros under Sundering Sea
The Wandjina take their ease underground,
And somewhere, somewhere in a tangle of thorns
A beauty under glass awaits a kiss
Here is my flask, I'll drink some wine
And then, like Van Winkle,
I'll lay me down to sleep

This Is a Blog About a Graduation Project

2009-05-17T05:49:00.000-07:00

This is a blog about a graduation project. This is not a thesis, this is not a recital, this is not a trap.
This is music, this is art, and this is poetry!

My name is Esther Wheaton, and I am entering my fourth year at Wilfrid Laurier University, Honours Bachelor of Music, composition stream. For my program, I have to compose a piece of music as a final opus, and I have decided that I am going to write an album.

Yes, write an album. You heard me correctly. I am a writer as well as a musician, and I wanted to do something with all of my skills. So it's going to be an album, probably 10 tracks, hopefully recorded in a studio, for chamber orchestra split into smaller chamber ensembles, and four vocalists who will sing in various formations also.

Now, I'm not thinking of this as a pop album (although I'm hoping for songs between 3 and 6 minutes long). It is more going to be a song cycle, written to be recorded first and performed second. My influences are Owen Pallett's "Heartland" concept-world, Nico Muhly's "Mothertongue," and to some extent, Anathallo's "Floating World," which is based on Japanese fairy tales.

This song cycle is going to be based on the characters from multicultural legends, folk tales, and stories that aren't the main character, that maybe aren't even the sidekick--characters that are just mentioned, that play bit parts. (Part of the legend, you know, but not legendary.) This song cycle takes a closer look at these characters; for the text I am doing research on what is said about them and extrapolating, twisting, digging deeper into what their perspective may have been.

For example: Who is to say Clementine (in a cavern, in a canyon) didn't commit suicide? The little-known final verse of the song shows her lover consoling himself with her younger sister--maybe, just maybe, there is a deeper darker story there.
And who is to say Azrael didn't hate his job? It's lonely work being the angel of death.

I daresay you get the idea. So this summer I am working on text/lyrics/libretto/whatever you want to call it, melodies, a Plan, and whatever else I can get done. This blog is to keep me honest! I am going to post progress here, text for people to read and comment on (pleeeease give me some feedback), and my notes. We're kickin' this Neil Gaiman style.