WINTER SONGS
for bass-baritone and instrumental sextet
Written: 2000/2007-08
Duration: 20'
Instrumentation: bass-baritone and sextet (flute, B-flat clarinet [doubling B-flat bass clarinet], violin, cello, percussion [vibraphone, orchestra bells, medium suspended cymbal, large sizzle cymbal, medium tam tam, low tam tam, 3 graduated, mounted triangles, Mark Tree] and piano). Note: version for bass-baritone and piano also available.
Commissioned by David Neal and the Arts at Grace series through the New York State Music Fund.
World Premiere: Society for New Music, David Neal, Bass-Baritone, The Arts at Grace series, Cortland, NY, April 20, 2008.
Premiere of First Movement: Cornell Contemporary Chamber Players, David Neal, Bass-Baritone, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY, Winter, 2000.
Publisher: Bill Holab Music
View Score | Buy Sheet Music | Buy Audio
A version for bass-baritone and piano is also available.
PROGRAM NOTE
Short Version (For Programs)
The idea for Winter Songs occurred to me after I wrote a short song based on the sixth poem from Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens for a group composition project at Cornell University. The original idea was to have each student in the department set a different poem in this work, culminating in an evening long song cycle. There are many compelling settings ofThirteen Ways, so instead of trying to contribute yet another, I decided to compose a song cycle using winter-themed poems by a variety of poets. David Neal, the bass-baritone who sang my initial song, Icicles Filled the Long Window, liked the idea so much that he asked me for a complete cycle. I spent months collecting and reading as many poems about winter as I could find. Winter-themed poems seem to fall into two categories: those that are playful and fun, and those that are quite serious. I chose to set six serious poems, including another one by Wallace Stevens, and one each by Robert Creeley, Richard Wilbur, A.R. Ammons and Billy Collins.
Winter Songs was commissioned by David Neal and The Arts at Grace through the New York State Music Fund and was premiered by David Neal and the Society for New Music in April 2008.
Long Version
The idea for Winter Songs occurred to me after I wrote a short song based on the sixth poem from Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird by Wallace Stevens for a group composition project initiated by Steven Stucky at Cornell University. The original idea was to have each student in the department set a different poem in this work, culminating in an evening long song cycle. There are many compelling settings of Thirteen Ways, so instead of trying to contribute yet another, I decided to compose a song cycle using winter-themed poems by a variety of poets. David Neal, the bass-baritone who sang my initial song, Icicles Filled the Long Window, liked the idea so much that he asked me for a complete cycle. I spent months collecting and reading as many poems about winter as I could find. Winter-themed poems seem to fall into two distinct categories: those that are playful and fun, and those that are quite serious. I chose to set six serious poems, including another one by Wallace Stevens, and one each by Robert Creeley, Richard Wilbur, A. R. Ammons and Billy Collins.
As I studied the poems, I tried finding ways of connecting them, either by subject or theme—all poems about snow and ice or death and loss, for example—or by something frivolous, such as poets who wrote about winter with the first name of Robert: Frost, Pack, Bly, Creeley and Hayden. I also considered interspersing funny poems in-between serious ones, but that seemed to break the flow.Ultimately, I decided to set poems by contemporary poets that resonated most strongly with me; emotional quality and listener comprehension—whether a poem would be understood when set to music—became more important to me than subject matter. By coincidence, these poems are all by poets having ties to the American Northeast. Perhaps my growing up in snowy Buffalo, New York made me feel these particular poems more than the others I read.
The poems are also meaningful to me on a personal level. The first one, Icicles Filled the Long Window by Wallace Stevens, is the poem that initiated this commission. The second, Dark Day, Warm and Windy by A. R. Ammons, reminds me of the walks I took while a doctoral student at Cornell. Although I never met Ammons while at Cornell, I like to think that we shared the experience of taking similar walks in and around Ithaca. I included the third poem, The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens, because I feel that since the first poem is quite short and Stevens wrote so many wonderful poems about winter, it seemed right to include another. The fourth poem, Boy at The Window by Richard Wilbur, is dedicated to my son Dylan who was two years old when I wrote this movement. It seems to perfectly capture the all-encompassing fear of pain and loss that every child goes through at a young age. (The entire cycle is also split in half with two poems about "snow men.") The fifth poem, Old Story by Robert Creeley, is special to me because I grew up in Buffalo, NY, and Creeley taught for a while at the State University of New York at Buffalo, the same school where my father taught for over thirty years. The last poem, Neither Snow by Billy Collins, was originally published in The Cortland Review, an online literary audio magazine located in the same town where Winter Songs was premiered. Collins describes a cab ride down the Avenue of the Americas during a snowstorm. I have lived in New York City for over twenty years, and I know first-hand what that feels like. Since this poem has ties to Cortland and New York, and since it is also the fastest movement, and since Billy Collins himself gave me permission to set it, it seemed like a good idea to end with this one.
Winter Songs was commissioned by David Neal and The Arts at Grace through the New York State Music Fund and was premiered by David Neal and the Society for New Music in April 2008.
-
WINTER SONGS
For bass-baritone and instrumental sextet
I.Icicles filled the long window
from Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
Wallace Stevens
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, from The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens by Wallace Stevens, Copyright © 1954 by Wallace Stevens and renewed 1982 by Holly Stevens. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc.
II. Dark Day, Warm and Windy
A. R. Ammons
Dark day, warm and windy,
light breaking through
clouds
coloring the sides of tall furrows,
thaw decaying
snow, the wind stirring
time up to a rush, I come home
from work midmorning
dark with contemplations,
that the infant finds
his hand unopened
and the old man forgets
his has closed—that rondure:
I sit down at the piano
and try the “Fuga I” in The
Well-Tempered Clavier and
my feelings lighten,
the melody so incredible,
the counter-melody incredible,
the workings in and out
precise and necessary
From The Snow Poems by A. R. Ammons. Copyright © 1977 A. R. Ammons. Published by W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. Used with permission.
III. The Snow Man
Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
The Snow Man, from The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens by Wallace Stevens, Copyright © 1954 by Wallace Stevens and renewed 1982 by Holly Stevens. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc.
IV. Boy at the Window
Richard Wilbur
Seeing the snowman standing all alone
In dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
A night of gnashings and enormous moan.
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a god-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to Paradise.
The man of snow is, nonetheless, content,
Having no wish to go inside and die.
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
Though frozen water is his element,
He melts enough to drop from one soft eye
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
For the child at the bright pane surrounded by
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear.
Boy at the Window from Things of This World, Copyright © 1952 and renewed 1980 by Richard Wilbur, reproduced by permission of Houghton Mifflin Publishing Company.
V. Old Story
Robert Creeley
Like kid on float
of ice block sinking
in pond the field had made
from winter’s melting snow
so wisdom accumulated
to disintegrate
in conduits of brain
in neural circuits faded
while gloomy muscles shrank
mind padded the paths
its thought had wrought
its habits had created
till like kid afloat
on ice block broken
on or inside the thing it stood
or was forsaken.
From The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1975-2005, by Robert Creeley, Copyright © 2006 The Estate of Robert Creeley. Published by University of California Press. Used with permission.
VI. Neither Snow
Billy Collins
When all of a sudden the city air filled with snow,
the distinguishable flakes
blowing sideways,
looked like krill
fleeing the maw of an advancing whale.
At least they looked that way to me
from the taxi window,
and since I happened to be sitting
that fading Sunday afternoon
in the very center of the universe,
who was in a better position
to say what looked like what,
which thing resembled some other?
Yes, it was a run of white plankton
borne down the Avenue of the Americas
in the stream of the wind,
phosphorescent against the weighty buildings.
Which made the taxi itself,
yellow and slow-moving,
a kind of undersea creature,
I thought as I wiped the fog from the glass,
and me one of its protruding eyes,
an eye on a stem
swiveling this way and that
monitoring one side of its world,
observing tons of water
tons of people
colored signs and lights
and now a wildly blowing race of snow.
Published on The Cortland Review website. Copyright © 1999 Billy Collins. Used with permission from Billy Collins.