LIGHT & GOLD
LIGHT & GOLD
LIGHT & GOLD
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Five Hebrew Love Songs<br />
In the spring of 1996, my great friend (and brilliant<br />
violinist) Friedemann Eichhorn invited me and<br />
my girlfriend-at-the-time Hila Plitmann (a<br />
soprano) to give a concert with him in his home<br />
city of Speyer, Germany. We had all met that year<br />
as students at the Juilliard School, and were<br />
inseparable.<br />
Because we were appearing as a band of travelling<br />
musicians, ‘Friedy’ asked me to write a set of<br />
‘troubadour’ songs for piano, violin and soprano.<br />
I asked Hila (who was born and raised in Jerusalem)<br />
to write me a few ‘postcards’ in her native tongue,<br />
and a few days later she presented me with these<br />
exquisite and delicate Hebrew poems. I set them<br />
while we vacationed in a small skiing village in the<br />
Swiss Alps, and we performed them for the fi rst<br />
time a week later in Speyer, Hila singing, Friedy<br />
playing violin, and I at the piano.<br />
Each of the songs captures a moment that Hila<br />
and I shared together: “Kala Kalla” (which means<br />
‘light bride’) was a pun I came up with while she<br />
was fi rst teaching me Hebrew; the bells at the<br />
beginning of “Eyze Sheleg” are the exact pitches<br />
that awakened us each morning in Germany as<br />
they rang from a nearby cathedral, and we really<br />
did see the most astonishing snowfl akes falling<br />
from the sky.<br />
In 2001, the University of Miami commissioned<br />
me to adapt the songs for SATB chorus and string<br />
quartet, which is the version presented here. These<br />
songs are profoundly personal for me, born entirely<br />
out of my new love for this soprano, poet, and now<br />
my beautiful wife, Hila Plitmann.<br />
The Chelsea Carol<br />
The Chelsea Carol was commissioned by the Choirs<br />
of Birmingham-Southern College, Lester Seigel,<br />
conductor, to commemorate the 75th anniversary<br />
of the college’s Service of Lessons and Carols.<br />
Original Latin text by my long-time collaborator<br />
Charles Anthony Silvestri, scored for choir and<br />
organ, it was fi rst printed in December 2012.<br />
6 <strong>LIGHT</strong> & <strong>GOLD</strong><br />
A Boy and a Girl<br />
(Composed 2002)<br />
For me, writing music is a very lonely experience.<br />
The process of wrestling the notes from my heart<br />
to my brain to the page is usually a brutal one;<br />
only rarely does it feel as glamorous as the word<br />
“composing” sounds. I spend huge amounts of<br />
time researching texts, and seek to fi nd words and<br />
poems that, to me at least, have music hidden<br />
with the words. “A Boy and a Girl” is such a tender,<br />
delicate, exquisite poem; I simply tried to quiet<br />
myself as much as possible, teasing out the music<br />
that is contained within the words to create this<br />
piece.<br />
I’m often asked which of my compositions is my<br />
favourite. I don’t really have one that I love more<br />
than the others, but I do feel that the four measures<br />
that musically paint the text “never kissing” may<br />
be the truest notes I’ve ever written.<br />
Cloudburst<br />
After a performance of Go, Lovely Rose in 1991,<br />
Dr. Jocelyn K. Jensen approached me about<br />
writing a piece for her High School Choir. She is<br />
an amazing conductor, legendary for doing crazy<br />
things on stage (choralography, lighting, costumes,<br />
you name it), and I wanted to write something for<br />
her that would really knock the audience out.<br />
I had recently been given an exquisite book of<br />
poems by Octavio Paz, and around the same<br />
time I witnessed an actual (breathtaking) desert<br />
cloudburst, and I guess it just all lined up. The<br />
fi nger snapping thing (all of the singers snap their<br />
fi ngers to simulate rain) is an old campfi re game<br />
that I modifi ed for the work, and the thunder sheets<br />
were giant pieces of tin we took from the side of<br />
the school.<br />
The piece was originally about ten minutes long,<br />
but Dr. Jo-Michael Scheibe sagely convinced me<br />
to “tighten it up”. I did, and the piece (now a lean<br />
eight and a half minutes) was fi nally published in<br />
1995.