Sixth World Symposium on Choral Music ... - NewMusicBox

NewMusicBox May 2003
1. The Appeal of Choral Music
DALE WARLAND: I commend the panel for coming up with the idea to have internationally
renowned composers, in this case representing the Americas, commissioned to write works for
ten outstanding choirs. There are supposed to be five composers here this morning, and one of
them is unable to be here. But we are fortunate to have four of those. I am happy to say that I
have done music by all of the composers you see up here. Ernani Aguiar to my right… and our
last minute interpreter, here and on the spot. As all of you know, each of the composers were
asked to write a four-minute a cappella work to be matched up with one of the performing choirs
for this symposium. In addition to Ernani Aguiar on my right, a few blocks from this very spot
lives Dominick Argento, a Minnesota composer. From Cuba, the gentleman not able to be here is
Guido Lopez-Gavilan. From the United States by way of China is Chen Yi, and from Canada, R.
Murray Schaefer. The question that I would like to ask to get us going, for each of you, is: What
about the choral medium is it that appeals to you? What challenges you? And along with that, are
you currently working on other choral or vocal works (just to see where vocal choral music is at
the present in your lives)? What about the choral medium would you say appeals to you or
challenges you?
ERNANI AGUIAR: I like everything! Choral music ranges from medieval music to
contemporary music. First, as a choral conductor, I am retired. I didn't want to conduct any more
choirs. Between me and the choir, there was an orchestra in the middle. In this moment with
choirs, I am only composing. I don't want to know any more about the -isms of the twentieth
century. I am tired of them. I simply want to write music that singers want to sing and the
audience wants to hear. I want to find direct communication.
DOMINICK ARGENTO: I have always felt that music began in the throat. There is that
beautiful story about Orpheus and the tortoise shell. He strummed on the dried tendons stretched
across it and, voila! Lute music was born. It is a very pretty story but I am convinced that music
originated differently. There was a need for early man to be able to express things for which there
were no words. Some prehistoric mother discovered that producing gentle crooning, humming
sounds comforted her ailing infant, allayed its fears, and best of all, hastened healing sleep; in
another cave down the block, a prehistoric father discovered that indulging in uncontrolled
wailing, keening, moaning noises provided some relief from the unendurable anguish and rage
aroused by the death of his infant; and in still another cave around the corner, some prehistoric
elder wished to placate and gratify those incomprehensible forces responsible for illness and
wellness, for life and death, by chanting wordless, solemn tones. These earliest manifestations of
our art—the lullaby, the lament, the hymn—arose out of basic human needs and began in the
human throat, and I find it interesting that most instrument that I have ever heard are imitations
of the voice: they can play higher or lower, or can go without breathing...whatever. But music
proves its vocal origins even in such simple things as the four-measure phrase, a structure that
has persisted in so much music because that's when the human runs out of breath and needs to
breathe again. I find the essence of humanity in choral music, in groups of combined voices, in
groups of humans expressing what they feel or coming together to express whatever the text asks
Composers’ Dialogue #1, 08/06/2002