A few years ago I joined The Old Croydonians' Association, a group for people who attended the Selhurst Grammar Schools in England. On their website I found the and decided that sometime I'd like to write an arrangement for orchestra and choir. Fresh from my summer break I finally got around to doing that and the result is now available for your listening pleasure from the News Playlist.
"IO, SELHURST!" - Composed by: J A Wright and C W Scott
1. Felix ubi nemorum, saltus arridebat,
Schola nostra condita, genio sit praedita,
Tum qui praesidebat, tum qui praesidebat,
Io Selhurst, silva felix,
Io Selhurst, cara nutrix,
Viget, vigeat, vigebit.
2. Cara nutrix, ardui nihil, te iuvante,
Nobis nec molestia ulla sint proposita,
Te auxiliante, te auxiliante.
Io Selhurst, silva felix,
Io Selhurst, cara nutrix,
Viget, vigeat, vigebit.
3. Cum praetextis positis lucta exercemur,
Almae Matri debita quae ab illa habita,
Semper recordemur, semper recordemur.
Io Selhurst, silva felix,
Io Selhurst, cara nutrix,
Viget, vigeat, vigebit.
4. Laus sit senioribus qui et adspexerunt
Mortem, et qui vulnera, pugnantes pro Patria,
Laeti acceperunt, laeti acceperunt.
Io Selhurst, silva felix,
Io Selhurst, cara nutrix,
Viget, vigeat, vigebit.
Arrangements of two songs composed by my wife
These songs played a part in how my wife Jan and I first got together. At the time I was getting into composing with synthesizers and she asked if she could see my equipment - meaning my music studio set-up!
When she came over to see it she played these songs on my keyboard and I captured them in my DAW music software. We worked on some rough orchestraions of them at the time, but it's only recently that I finished the job.
So here they are, instrumental arrangements of a pop song - A love that was beyond us, and a romantic ballad - Waited so long, over on the News Playlist..
- Winter / Spring 2019 -
The Raven
The Raven is a setting of the well-known by American writer Edgar Allan Poe, and is available for your listening pleasure from the News Playlist.There is also a video where you can follow the poem along with the music. .
The Raven Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “’Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating “?’Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door — Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door; — This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you” — here I opened wide the door; —— Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!” — Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore — Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;— ‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door — Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore — Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered — Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before — On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore — Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never — nevermore’.”
But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee Respite — respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! — Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore — Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore — Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting — “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!” Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore!
The piece is written for orchestra and a choir supplemented by a somewhat larger contingent of tenors and altos than is usual. These singers perform most of the poem's text, with the basses largely in support of the tenors, and the sopranos providing an eerie backdrop in the higher register.
The poem has 18 verses, each constructed in a similar manner, resulting in 27 minutes of music. Quite often settings of such verses use the same musical structure (for example in hymns or anthems). However, (partly to avoid the obvious monotony of the same music repeated 18 times!) in The Raven I have chosen not to follow this structure, but rather to treat each verse as a separate movement with different music that reflects the subject of each verse. Intesrestly, in his essay The Philosophy of Composition Poe wrote: "What we term a long poem is, in fact, merely a succession of brief ones — that is to say, of brief poetical effects".
While each verse contains different music, there are a number of unifying elements (unity being something that Poe also felt important). Firstly, the entire piece is in minor keys, reflecting the overall feeling of melancholy in the poem. The piece uses many different keys, both between and within movements, but listeners will probably notice that chord sequences often provide those time-worn feelings of horror movies - eeriness, spookiness - especially in the soprano ooohs and ahs! Also, the music for the refrain in the final line of each verse ("nothing more"; "evermore"; "Nevermore") is similar but slightly varied. You may also notice that the music for the first and last verse is actually the same, albeit in different keys and tempo.
The poem captured my imagination, and I thoroughly enjoyed setting it to music. I hope that you may enjoy it.
- In Progress -
A new pop/soul styled version of my setting of Shakespeare's poem "Live with me and be my love".
