These are the liner notes for the CD As Above, So Below.
 
Heaven Somewhere
Sister Rosetta Tharpe scandalized the gospel community by mixing the sacred and the secular into what might be called gospel-swing, a revolution whose after-effects we are still absorbing.  I've used one of her signature pieces, I Hear Music In The Air as a launching pad for our opening chart, which lets you know right away through the presence of fingersnaps that we are riding the swing thing (fingersnaps, long associated with the bossman handing out orders, have no place in the gospel style).
 
Ezekiel Saw The Wheel; Jacob's Ladder; Jesus Met The Woman At The Well
The following three selections are from the suite, Out of Water Into Air, rearranged here as separate pieces for a single choir. There's a zillion versions of Ezekiel, but I wanted to introduce the single-minded drive of groups like the Golden Gate Quartet and the Dixie Hummingbirds, whose vocal stylings were an important inspiration.  It's often been pointed out how important gospel music was to blues and jazz, but the influence was equally strong on the doo-wop roots that nourished rock and roll. Getting to the mountaintop has long been a traditional symbol for crossing over from one world to the next,  which is why at the words, "when I get to the mountaintop" the music abruptly moves from four sharps to the mirror opposite of four flats. Jesus Met The Woman At The Well also emphasizes the doo-wop connection, and reminds me how so many of the most memorable New Testament stories arise out of Jesus' encounters with women.  The "ladder" was the code word for the Underground Railroad, the secret and hazardous route used by slaves on the run.  If you put a ladder on the ground it even looks like a railroad.  And so the famous Jacob's Ladder is not only about the triumph of spiritual freedom, but about another kind of freedom as well.
 
Kyrie from Missa Brevis
Each movement of the Missa Brevis draws on the folk traditions from a different part of the world; the Kyrie takes an ancient Scottish burial rite as its starting point, and introduces some Christian numerology, blooming rapturously into three parts in honour of the Trinity.
 
Carol of the Ladder ; When The Stars Fall
Both these pieces grew out of my desire to write a gentle, old-timey, sing-along hymn, and to see if I could mix some polyphonic voice writing (where the melody is accompanied through the juxtaposition of other melodic lines) into the homophonic hymn style (where the accompaniment works in terms of moving from chord to chord, rather than superimposing additional melodic material). The problem with polyphony is that the results usually sound quite intricate, whereas I wanted a placid, open texture. I feel good about the results. The melody of Carol of the Ladder already exists in the Oxford Book of Carols as a jaunty, swinging little tune with a thousand verses. When The Stars Fall adds my text to a heartstopping melody from the Danish Lutheran tradition.
 
Son de Camaguey
Son is a musical style in Cuban music, as well as meaning "sound" in a more general sense.  Like several other Latin American forms, Son relies on a floating downbeat, where the rhythmic emphasis of the bass line avoids the emphatic first beat usually present in western music. The first chorus is a good place to hear how this works; if you clap along with the music you'll hear that the bass voices, who drive the rhythm, don't sing at the spot where you clap. The strong downbeat is suggested by spaces rather than sound, which helps give Latin music its trademark combination of precision and flexibility.  I took four measures from a Cuban folk song, and then did my favourite thing, coming up with additional melodies and counter-melodies in the appropriate style. The Spanish translates, "It's a beautiful thing, it's a wild and splendid coast. These are our traditions - what a beautiful sound!"
 
Elibama
Remember the stories of Galileo and Newton dropping objects from a height to see if different weights fell at different rates?  In Elibama I take a snippet of a Madagascar song in 5/4, and a Yiddish song in 4/4, and see if I can make them "fall" at the same rate as well. I used these two melodies because of their textual link with the idea of community, even though Elibama turned out to be a nearly wordless piece. The Madagascar song, Oay Lahy E  ("Song of the Songs of the Ancestors") was performed as a blessing to those going on a long journey, while Alle Brider ("All Are Brothers") is a party-hardy celebration of the human family with plenty of Yiddish oomph.  Community was an important theme since the piece was commissioned to celebrate the 10th anniversary of the Amabile Youth Singers - hence the title Elibama, a play on the choir's name. I've always thought of this chart as a conversation between the genders, who also appear to fall at the same rate as each other.
 
Ödi Ödi
A choral composer in North America is going to do a lot of work within the Christian framework, but all sacred traditions are nourishing to me. Ödi Ödi comes from  the radiantly black-skinned Tamil people who live throughout southern Asia, from India to Indonesia. The text translates more or less as, "Millions of people are on the run, constantly seeking, growing desperate and dying, looking for the light that was inside them all the time." There is a gorgeous euphony in the text, aided by mantra-like repetition of four key words: ödi (running), nädi (seeking), vädi (withering, fading), and ködi (tens of millions).  The piece is counted in seven, and we set up a cross-ripple in the surface calm by having the pulse in the men's and women's voices overlap each other. In the men's voices the seven is counted one two, one two, one two three, whereas the women count it one two three, one two, one two. The effect is like an aural version of those slow-motion wave machines that people put on their coffee tables, except your entire soul is supposed to feel that way. No time like the present to start trying.

Ödi ödi ödi ödi    Vädi vädi vädi vädi
Utkalandha jödheeyay   mändru pö na mändhurul

Nädi nädi nädi nädi    Ködi ködi ködi ködi
Nätkalaroom kalindhu poi   yen nirandha ködiyay
 
Ka Hia Manu
Oh, recording this was a good time. We were able to make imaginative use of the filthy dripping heat in the recording hall. I wanted to let choirs dip their toes into Polynesian music with this unscholarly crazy quilt of texts and chants from Tahiti, Tuamotu, Rapa Nui (aka Easter Island), the Marquesas and the Northern Marianas (which are in Micronesia, not Polynesia, but I was on wings of song and scorned such trifles.) The title Ka Hia Manu (Many Birds) recognizes the importance of birds in the folklore and the arts of these island cultures - just think of the symbolic power a flying creature would have to a people surrounded by open ocean. There are springtime bird festivals, and bird dances (Haka Manumanu) performed by girls decorated with feathers, and there is a darker side as well, as we see in the piece. The missionaries, er, shall we say "discouraged" the old chants, but many survived alongside the new musical hybrids that combined native sensibility with the SATB harmonies of missionary hymns - an interesting parallel with the South African Freedom Song. The Polynesian text is corrupt, and there are some diacretical markings missing, but just so you know what's going on...

Hitirere ake te haga i runga - The sun rises high in the skies.
Ua hiti mai te e'ava 'e - The moon is rising.
Toiti toiti - It's raining! It's raining!

Te ariki Hotumatu'a - a ceremonial announcement of the deeds of King Hotumatu'a, founding patriarch of Rapa Nui and hero throughout the islands.

Kaoha! - the breath of life - welcome - similar to aloha

Mato'u tamariki Ganaia - We are the people of Anaa (trad. Ganaia) Island

Ata rahi rumaruma - emerald green clouds. Some of the lagoons - for example, on Anaa Island - are such a brilliant green that the clouds above reflect the colour, and mark the position of the island to canoeists at sea.

Ka hia manu - many birds

Ava Moa, Hiva Oa - a sacred waterway, and the traditional island of Hotumatu'a's youth.

Fakateni atu ai te igoa taku fenua - Praise the name of our homeland.

Ta'i no te moe vaikava noho manu ino e, tutuma hakangaro tangi - Someone has been abducted by an evil bird, weeping in grief.

Aue te turu e - Help us!

Tere te vaka o Hotumatu'a - There goes the boat of Hotumatu'a.
 
The Ups And Downs
Here is a different slant on As Above, So Below, courtesy of that ultimate in rapscallion machismo, the drummer boy. His age-old reputation remains as alive today as ever, spawning a thousand jokes such as, "How can you tell when the stage is level?" "The drool comes out both sides of the drummer's mouth." If you've ever wondered why it's always a dairymaid who's taking the walk on the wild side, it isn't merely due to the creamy connotations of her trade. At a time when no unmarried girl could travel from village to village unchaperoned, a dairymaid's job could easily require her to walk her produce to market , and sell it as well, so she had a great deal more opportunity than most girls to be out and about. It must have been quite the cottage industry, because these old folk songs suggest that you couldn't throw a stone on a market road without hitting three dairymaids, four if the stone had a spin on it. By the way, to "live at the sign of the Grapes" or to "live at the sign of the Dog and Duck" is to name the inn you used as your stomping grounds, postal box, etc. Inns in those days were more like community centers than they are now.
 
Don't Bend Down
"Don't Bend Down" is Caribbean slang for "stand up for yourself". This is an original piece in a swampy gospel style, inspired and named by the children's rhyme I quote in the text: "Children, children. Yes, Papa?" In the premier performance children from New York City and Tennessee were combined into the melody voice, and I must say that it was hot, hot, hot. Well done, Chattanooga Sings! Thanks, Rebecca, Jennifer, Elizabeth.
 
As Above, So Below
"The Music of the Spheres" is a concept composers have explored in many different ways, such as having the movement and interdependence of the musical lines reflect that of the heavenly bodies. The earthly and the heavenly art mirror each other: as above, so below. And so I've given each voice part its own circular ostinato, and one by one set them revolving around the downbeat; but like heavenly bodies they exert a magnetic pull on each other as their orbits cross in various ways, leading to counter-rhythms. The revolution of the planets stirs up memories of revolutions on earth: "peace, land and bread" and "when the moon is new" refer to two different kinds of revolution, both of which went wrong. Allusions to nursery rhymes that teach us the days of the week bring up another kind of revolution, the sort that our measurements of time are based on. ("Time and "tide" come from the same root, which was much on my mind when I wrote the piece.) I've packed the piece with musical and verbal puns, in the spirit of hiding little treasures in the cake batter, but also because I want to stress the interdependence of all things, including the meanings of words. Mostly I want the piece to groove - I want it to be impossible to sing standing still. I have to warn you that reading the lyrics may be a drag without the music. They're intended to be a circular text, but for the sake of the page they've been squeezed into linear formation, and they look odd to me. Sort of like those old school maps where Baffin Island is the size of Australia.

So new, so true, so blue, deja vu.
Having deja vu explaining that I'm having deja vu explaining...
Think I'm having deja vu - low tide is turning,
Making all the old world new - could we be learning?
Think I had a second thought - tide is returning
Everything that I forgot - could we be learning?

Peace, land and bread. Peace, land and bread
Explaining that what goes around will come 'round.
So come on people, tell me something I don't know.
I'm learning that what goes around will come 'round.
So come on people, tell me something I don't know.
Well, every revolution gonna run down.
I'm learning that it's as above, 'n so below,
And everything will come around.

The moon's a gift in a smooth blue hand.
The earth's a gift in a smooth blue hand.
The moon, it draws the sea.
The sea, it eats the land.
The land, it draws the moon.
When the moon is new: as above, so below.
When the moon shines through: as above, so below.
The sea, the earth, the moon go around, go around.
What goes around comes around.

I wanna tell the world exactly what I'm gonna tell the world, so listen
'Cause I never had the nerve to tell them that I didn't have the nerve
To tell them that I wanna tell the world exactly what I'm gonna...

So new, so blue, so true, deja vu.
So near, so far, so clear, there you are.
So far to go, so full of woe, so fair of face, so full of grace,
So fair of face so far.

And the moon is a gift, and the sea is a gift,
And the earth is a gift, and your life is a gift,
And it's a gift that they won't take back.

So tell me if you wanna hear the good news
Or do you wanna make it through the bad news first?
We're living in a spinning little tidal pool,
And everything is turning from the best to worst.

As above then so below - we bring you good tidings.
The moon draws the sea.
The sea eats the land.
The land draws the moon.
They dance when the tide is turning.
As above then so below.

The horizon is a unison: the perfect interval between the sky and sea.
I'm learning that we're living in a parallel,
And everything you do is underlining me.

I'm having second thoughts explaining that I never had the nerve
To tell them that I'm having deja vu explaining that I wanna tell the world
That everything is gonna come around 'cause everything that happens up above,
So below.
 
Hard Shoulder
The House of Compassion is a Toronto outreach to people living on the streets: a tough, in-your-face situation where the solutions aren't easy, and people can be their own worst enemies with a vengeance. When the Bell'Arte singers asked me to write something to honour The House of Compassion, I knew I wanted a piece that avoided the platitudes such occasions so often inspire, despite their best - or worst - intentions. If there's no easy solutions in the ministry to the homeless, then I didn't want easy solutions in my piece either - even the very final line of the text can be read as both a statement of utter conviction and a question. It's a chart that is simultaneously deeply reverent and irreverent, a frame of mind not unknown to people in extremity. The march in the second half of the piece is based on a revivalist hymn from the Isle of Wight known as The Good Old Way.

Over, they can turn me over.
Over, let them check where the veins are tied
Over, oh when will this be over?
How do I get over?

Oh, no sir. Just a little low, sir.
No sir. I never planned to be here too long.
I know sir. I'm only reaping what I sow, sir.
Am I free to go, sir?

When there's no place where you can go,
Well then every place is equal.
Take your pick of my bones, Ezekiel.
That's how I'm paying my way for the afterglow.

And when the night's oiled as bright as a gun,
Come on you brute, let's shoot defiance.
Save a bowl of my blood for science:
Drink to me in the burgundy of oblivion.

Now when you can't keep track of who you are
Then you become the creature you're dreamin'.
The angel in me and the demon,
They say their grace and grind my face into caviar.

Where is my angel now? (somebody find me)
Where is my angel now? (someone rewind me)
Where is my angel now? (somebody guide me)
Where is my angel now? (somebody hide me)
Hide me in the cellar, deaf and dumb as Helen Keller
With my heart a-pumpin' yeller, goin' boom-boom-ba-doom.

Where is my demon now? (hot on my tail, sir)
Where is my demon now? (I see the trail, sir)
Where is my demon now? (posting my bail, sir)
Where is my demon now? (he be roasting the jail, sir)
Tell my emanation I bin chosen for probation
Of impossible duration from the cradle to tomb.

Compassion never was the fashion.
We only ration the way we feel that we ought to feel.
Attention! To everyone who serves detention:
Honourable mention.

Where is your honour now? (out on the street, sir)
Where is your honour now? (looking to eat, sir)
Where is your honour now? (it ain't yet defeat, sir)
Where is your honour now? (let's say in retreat, sir)

Inasmuch as anyone has done it for the least of these...
Listen up nice you lads and lasses,
Plenty good advice from the middle classes.
Listen up nice you lads and lasses,
How you gonna preach if you never practise?

When Lord, did you ever hunger?
And when Lord had you no coat on a winter's day?
When Lord was there no place to rest your head, Lord?
Just a thing I read, Lord?
Blessed are they that mourn. (I can't remember why.)
How blessed are they that mourn. (Tell me why.)

'Cause if you're selling yourself so you can eat
And the spirit is not very willing,
It's the flesh that is making the killing.
When I lay me down for good, may my rest be sweet.

For even Christ, he could not cure the likes of me.
He said the poor ye have always with you.
So then what should a saviour give you
When your hell fits you so well you live in harmony?

And when your blood turns to mud in your arm
And every breath is death inside you,
Halleluja! And woe betide you!
Give me strength to live my length.
Give me a charm against all harm.
Give me a soul that can pay the toll.
Give me a brain to survive the pain.
Give me grace so I can face what I know I've done.

I was on the gin 'cause the pogey was in.
I knew I'd be good for a day or two.
And the church was out with pamphlets about
The kind of slump I've been going through.
And they tell me that I still have glory in my soul,
I have a sweet hope of glory in my soul.
Don't I know I have, don't I feel I have
A sweet hope of glory in my soul.

"Your conflicts here, though great they be,
Shall not prevent your victory
If you but trust, and watch, and pray
And change your life a day by day."
And they tell me that I still have glory...

I would like to think it's pain that I drink
And pain can save when nothing can
When your life has been on hold between
The crack house and the Sally Ann.
And they tell me that I still have glory...

Who can be sure what life will endure,
And who can look me in the eye
And say, "Well done!" when my war is won,
And who knows what it takes to cry
That I have a sweet hope of glory....

When Lord did you ever hunger?
And when Lord had you no coat on a winter's day?
When Lord was there no one else to see you through, Lord?
Am I just like you, Lord?
Blessed are they who mourn - they shall be comforted.
How blessed are they who mourn.
 

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