Nathaniel Parks - but sometimes I worry (2023), for 8 singers and string quartet [score follower] скачать в хорошем качестве

Nathaniel Parks - but sometimes I worry (2023), for 8 singers and string quartet [score follower]

The text for this piece comes from a podcast by writer, Ross Sutherland, called “Imaginary Advice.” I first encountered “Imaginary Advice” during the long treks between Baltimore and my parent’s house in North Carolina. I was immediately enthralled by the wit of his stories and the thoughtful way he spoke about art. While I have a deep love for the whole podcast, the episode “Repeat After Me” has captured my imagination since my first listen and serves as the foundation of this work. This episode is a survey of repetitive artforms. In it, Ross discusses minimalist music, palindromic poetry, Camus’s “The Myth of Sisyphus,” the “Speech to Song Illusion” discovered by Diana Deutsch in the 90’s, and a myriad of other ways repetition appears in both life and art. What makes “Repeat After Me” especially striking is that Ross filters all these thoughts on repetition through the lens of being worried he’s telling his partner “I love you” too often; that by repeating “I love you,” he will cause those words to become empty, hollow. And haven’t we all experienced this feeling? Saying a word so many times, it loses its meaning. Repeating something over and over until it becomes a dull hum, an echo. It’s all too easy to view repetition as a destructive force; a way to erode the value of a thing. What Ross concludes however, and what ultimately inspired me to write this piece, is that repetition doesn’t strip language of meaning. Instead, by repeating the phrase, “I love you” it is transformed into something greater. By repeating, “I love you,” those words have now become song. Text: I love you I love you But sometimes I worry that I say it too much I say it when we end a phone call I say it when we watch the news together I say it when I feel sad and want to feel better I say it because of the tiniest pause in our conversation Immediately those words appear I can feel them changing shape Getting smoother Lighter Is this a sign of things to come? Repetition changes things The first time I told her I loved her We were walking along a canal together It was winter Our hands clasped together in my jacket pocket for warmth We kissed under the orange glow of the street light Preserving us like amber I told her that I loved her Those words felt like lightning Things change repetition Maybe some things need to be weakened If every time I said, “I love you” It felt as powerful as the first I’d never leave the house Perhaps those words need to be diluted Just a little I’m afraid of saying “I love you” too many times Of turning into an echo Like a photocopier running low on ink That repetition is a sign of weakness Instead of strength Perhaps, instead I can start to think of those words becoming music it has migrated to a different sphere Those words have now become song Premiered by: Bergamot Quartet Mira Fu-En Huang, S1 Nicole Stover, S2 Shauna Kreidler Michels, A1 Claire Galloway Weber, A2 Cam Falby, T1 Joshua Bornfield, T2 Michael Manganiello, B1 Richard Bell, B2