I miss you |
for SATB choir, a cappella, with alto and baritone soloists
Duration: ~5'30"
Premiere: June 30th, 2017 by Choral Chameleon; Vince Peterson, director; at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Brooklyn, NY
(Disclaimer: this piece is not autobiographical.) Around the same time I started experimenting with minimalism, I was becoming bored by the sound of a lot contemporary choral music. I took opportunity to write for an ensemble as daring as Choral Chameleon during their Summer Institute as a chance to be more adventurous than working with public domain poetry. While searching for potential lyrics, I recalled riding the bus through Haight Street in San Francisco and hearing a man shouting on the phone to his girlfriend – I was intrigued and uncomfortable with how vulgar and extremely personal the conversation was in a crowded public setting. When I eventually first arrived at the Institute in Brooklyn, I searched online for “texts to exes” and compiled some of my favorites into this loose narrative. Google auto-suggested for my search "drunk texts to exes", at which point I became hooked to the idea.
Despite the humorous nature of these conversations, I felt sympathy for the authors who briefly allowed themselves to be vulnerable. It’s not my intent to make a profound statement about modern romance, or the way we communicate with loved ones, but I wanted to fragment melodic gestures that capture the authors’ longing or loathing together with minimalist repetition that underplays the absurdity of the responses.
Duration: ~5'30"
Premiere: June 30th, 2017 by Choral Chameleon; Vince Peterson, director; at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Brooklyn, NY
(Disclaimer: this piece is not autobiographical.) Around the same time I started experimenting with minimalism, I was becoming bored by the sound of a lot contemporary choral music. I took opportunity to write for an ensemble as daring as Choral Chameleon during their Summer Institute as a chance to be more adventurous than working with public domain poetry. While searching for potential lyrics, I recalled riding the bus through Haight Street in San Francisco and hearing a man shouting on the phone to his girlfriend – I was intrigued and uncomfortable with how vulgar and extremely personal the conversation was in a crowded public setting. When I eventually first arrived at the Institute in Brooklyn, I searched online for “texts to exes” and compiled some of my favorites into this loose narrative. Google auto-suggested for my search "drunk texts to exes", at which point I became hooked to the idea.
Despite the humorous nature of these conversations, I felt sympathy for the authors who briefly allowed themselves to be vulnerable. It’s not my intent to make a profound statement about modern romance, or the way we communicate with loved ones, but I wanted to fragment melodic gestures that capture the authors’ longing or loathing together with minimalist repetition that underplays the absurdity of the responses.
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Text:
A: I miss you. All the time. B: I have never met a more sad person than you. Ever. A: I want my Jamie Oliver cookbook back. -- It's been a year. Leave me alone. -- A: Are you up? B: Unsubscribe -- A: Hey B: Go away A: I just think we need to talk about some things B: We broke up 7 months ago so no, we don't A: You still have my Sonicare® though -- A: You're a real dick, and no, that's not a drunk text A: I lied, that was a definitely a drunk text. My bad. -- I don't want to be reminded of your tiny dick anymore but that doesn't stop you from sending me random dick pics whenever you get drunk off two shots of vodka you fucking cunt punch -- Hope you never get married and die alone! -- A: I called B: I watched it ring |
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