Concert I
Friday, February 8, 2008
20.00, Clapp Recital Hall

Sorrowful Beauty

I am always amazed and touched when I see small flowers growing between rocks or in the deserts. These flowers may not be the prettiest ones in the world, but with strength they survive. They are a powerful image for us. Many times when we suffer we ask why we are alive. I think these flowers give us an answer.

In Memoriam

Written in 2005 and revised in 2008, In Memoriam developed as a reflection of tragedy on both a universal and personal level over the course of my lifetime (25 years at the time). A composition entitled as such usually refers to someone specific. Yet, when composing this work I thought more of "us" than "me," and how "we" as a society mourn people lost to us, leaving "us" behind to continue their memory.

Sprawl-Dystopia

Written in September-October 2007, shortly after the composer's relocation to a new city, Sprawl-Dystopia is a commentary on suburban life. Although its programmatic nature and accessible musical language show a common thread with Romantic tone-poems, the work presents an antithesis to the idealized portraits of nature and rural life evoked by Romantic composers. Instead of majestic forests and shepherds' pipes, the landscape here consists of endless strip malls and concrete parking lots, six-lane highways with a constant stream of cars hurtling at breakneck speed, and treeless subdivisions where the streets are nearly always devoid of people, with row upon row of identical houses hiding untold secrets behind closed doors. While the word "dystopia" generally refers to a bleak world in a work of fiction, the listener can decide whether the world portrayed here is real or imaginary.

The Art of Remembering

The Art of Remembering is about my grandmother, Taimi, and more specifically, about the way she tells stories. She was born in Estonia in 1922 but in 1944 was forced to flee when the Red Army invaded. Over the next five years she lived through an amazing series of escapes and adventures finally making it to the United States in 1949. During the war she had lost almost everything - her homeland, husband and promising career as a young concert pianist. In recent years, my grandmother has often told me stories about this time. I love hearing her speak. There is a calm lilt, something serene about her voice, as if she were speaking about something very ordinary. But every now and then her voice will break for a moment, or she will pause and it becomes clear that there is a pain and sorrow beneath the placid surface of her storytelling that is still quite raw. It is this sense that I tried to capture in my piece.

Re-Callings

Re-Callings features a solo violin against the background of a mixed chamber ensemble. The work is loosely divided into three main sections, each of which frequently moves through varied musical ideas and constantly shifts in character and mood - I feel that Re-Callings tries to push this restless surface into some sort of cohesive form. The return of motives is often unpredictable, though the initial music heard in the piano seems to have the greatest structural significance and transformative power.

No Sleep for the Wicked
 

  I. "...Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds.."
- Thomas Gray
IV. "...The clocks are striking, calling to each other,
And one can see right to the edge of time..."
- Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Bly
VI. "In all its raucous impudence
Life writhes, cavorts in pallid light..."
- Charles Baudelaire, trans. Shapiro

No Sleep for the Wicked is a ballet in seven parts based on my battles with insomnia. Each movement evokes a different state of mind that comes as a result of sleep deprivation. As one of my favorite pastimes is reading poetry when I can't sleep, I have chosen a line of poetry as the title for each movement. The poetry has been selected based upon the mood that the music is meant to portray.