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After a lot of thought, research, and consultation, the title of my new, three movement choral work has been determined.  It is a single Latin word that sums up the expressive intention of the intermingled words, pitches, and rhythms set forth in my composition:

SEMPITERNA

First, why Latin? Latin is the historical language of the Roman Catholic Church, and remains to be the case today. This piece is dedicated to my grandfather, who was an ardent and faithful Catholic, and often reminisced of the “good ol’ days” when the use of Latin during Mass was the norm, rather than the exception. When considering the texts for this composition, I chose to use Psalms derived from the Latin Vulgate to honor my grandfather.

Latin is widely sung by most choirs around the world, and this gives the piece an opportunity to cross the language barrier. In this same spirit of universality, I chose short excerpts from Psalms that have a wide emotional and spiritual appeal, and foreseeably could be sung with comfort by choirs in Christian, Jewish, Muslim, other religious, and secular communities.

Second, why Sempiterna? My initial understanding of the word “sempiternam” was that it means “everlasting,” and since the piece was inspired by the life and death of my grandfather, “everlasting” seemed to evoke the natural sentiment of the work.

I considered “sempiternam” reluctantly, as the word appears nowhere in the texts I used. I also wondered how grammatically correct “sempiternam” would be for a title, so I e-mailed an inquiry to my friend and colleague, Sam Smith, who in response wrote for me a near treatise on its meaning and proper use. Sam offered some insight that demonstrated the depth of the word, and how powerful it actually is in the context of the composition.

The word “sempiternam” is actually composed of two words smashed together: “semper,” meaning “always,” and aeternus, meaning “eternal,” or “forever.” Always . . . eternal . . . forever. Each of the words, English expressions of the original Latin, surpass the seemingly infinite imagination of the human mind, and reach into a realm that mystifies even the most thoughtful among us.

According to Sam, “sempiterna” (without the “m” at the end) is the “neuter plural spelling for ‘everlasting things,’” and he recommended it because of its “suggestiveness and its play on subtly interrelated but distinct senses.”  Sam asked, “what precisely is the everliving thing that you evoke in your piece? Is is the spirit of God? Is it your Grandpa’s soul? Is it life? Or is it some intangible essence?” As Sam pointed out, all of these elements are distinct, yet interrelated. And these things are what the piece is about: my grandfather, the soul, God, life, death, the unknown.

Each movement illustrates the progression of the soul from the temporal body to eternal peace and rest. In “De profundis,” the soul demands to be heard by God as he wearily climbs a steep ladder to shout at God’s feet, saying, “Lord, hear my voice!” “In manus tuas” marks the moment when the body relinquishes control of the soul to the trust of God, accompanied by an anxious heartbeat fueled by a tinge of fear. “In pace” is like a still-image of a sleeping child held in the embrace of his mother, and conveys a sense of perfect peace, an eternity of profound and pure satisfaction.

Sempiterna is a beautiful and fitting title, and is much greater than what I first understood it to be.  This led me to the final determination, to call the piece Sempiterna, because it fulfills the overarching message of the work as one of doubt and of assurance, of mystery and of certainty.

I must thank Sam for helping me with the title. I owe so much of what I discovered to his knowledge and wisdom, and for that, I am forever grateful. He should expect to be thanked in the published score!

As of last Friday, all three movements have been fully composed, and my next blog entry will display performance notes for each movement. Please come back for more.
 

My 4th visit to New York City ended yesterday as I trekked from a cab in Queens to JFK, JFK to SFO, SFO to Bart, Bart to Muni, and Muni to my front door. It’s hard to believe that was just 36 hours ago.

This visit was different from my first three trips to New York. In June of 2000, I went to New York for the first time with the UCLA Chorale for a Carnegie Hall performance of Mendelssohn’s Elijah.  In the span of 5 days, I rehearsed quite a bit in Cami Hall, saw the necessary tourist attractions, and spent several late nights roaming the city with friends.

October of 2002 marked my second visit, just after I received my bachelor’s degree from UCLA.  I checked out Juilliard and the Manhattan School of Music for grad school, hoping to be a resident of the great metropolis.  I met up with my friend, Joseph, who once lived in Manhattan, and he showed me some wonderful spots on the island; places I would not have seen if he hadn’t been there to guide me.

I chaperoned a 6-day trip to NYC with my high school kids on my third expedition in June of 2006, which included lots of B’way shows, tourist traps, and meals at chain restaurants.  Our accommodations were fantastic, just a few blocks from Times Square.  It was a great time!

The most recent vacation in New York entailed staying most nights at Frankie’s pad in Queens, a couple nights at his friend’s place in Manhattan (28th and 3rd…great location!), endless day/night walks in colorful neighborhoods, waiting for subway trains, watching fireworks atop a 20 story building, enduring the summer heat and humidity, spending way too much money on food, and walking home from the train station back to Frankie’s place as the sun rose (quite a few times).

What made this trip different was the fact that I stayed in Queens.  It’s an interesting place, fairly depressed, but with a bustling, yet neighborhood, environment.  Parts of it look and feel like Hollywood depictions of 1970’s and 80’s New York: graffiti on every other building, large older cars made of heavy metal, a multiplicity of cultures/ethnicities, and people loitering around their front yards.

I realized how hard it is to live in New York.  I once aspired to live there, but now I’m not sure I would be as happy as I am here in San Francisco.  New York is tough as nails, jagged and edgy, and it seems to have tempered the people who live there to adopt that same coarseness.  I like the way San Francisco has kept me soft, and one could argue it has given me the opportunity to become even softer. Still, New York will continue to be a great place to visit.

At Mass on Sunday, the organist at St. Patrick’s Cathedral played a very interesting postlude.  I captured some of it on film as I walked through the tall, mammoth church.  Check it out below.

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Isn’t it hilarious?  Who knew the piece could sound so great on the organ, in church, nonetheless?

New York was a fantastic time, and I hope my next visit isn’t too far in the future.  I’m aiming to get my new choral work performed there sometime within the next year; and if that happens, I’ll swiftly journey back!