FRANK STEMPER, COMPOSER
Avuncular (2011)
a setting of AVUNCULAR by Rodney Jones for unaccompanied singer [5 mins.]
Written for and premiered by soprano Lucy Shelton, 10 April 2012.
Opus 72 — A.S.C.A.P. work I.D. 883655577
SCORE
Opus 72 — A.S.C.A.P. work I.D. 883655577
SCORE
NOTES
Avuncular was written for Lucy Shelton, the dynamic soprano and champion of modern music. To say that Lucy’s voice is beautiful would be a gross understatement. It is a rich orchestration of the harmonic series, so complex and full of emotion that a single pitch can express a spectrum of thoughts and ideas for the listener. In addition, Lucy is a schooled and experienced brilliant musician. She understands every aspect of the music she sings, including the accompaniment whether it is string quartet, orchestra, a mass of computers, or a piano. What a grand career she has had, and what an impact she has had on the music she loves, and on so many composers, performers, and students, who have been lucky enough to learn from her genius.
After reading Avuncular for the 6th or 8th time, I called Rodney. I asked him if his poem was supposed to be funny. I wanted to make sure, because I thought it was, but it is very different that most of his other work. I didn’t want to get it wrong and get a tongue lashing! Rodney’s response was immediate: “Oh it’s a joke – a great joke!!”
In my setting of Rodney’s joke, I mess around with individual words in order to signal them out, especially, at the very beginning, the word “Lust.” That seems to be the cause of Rodney’s joke, like it is to so many people. Lust, or as I like to pronounce it: L-L-L-Lust, has thrown off many people, both male and female, and any of the other assortment of sexes. It fools people. It disguises itself as “mother love,” disrupting actual “mother love,” and ruins lives for absolutely no reason at all.
However, in Rodney’s joke, the protagonist’s lucky turn of the stock market and a willing nymph 50+ years younger than the old goat, allow L-L-L-L-Lust transmogrify for another go.
Avuncular was written for Lucy Shelton, the dynamic soprano and champion of modern music. To say that Lucy’s voice is beautiful would be a gross understatement. It is a rich orchestration of the harmonic series, so complex and full of emotion that a single pitch can express a spectrum of thoughts and ideas for the listener. In addition, Lucy is a schooled and experienced brilliant musician. She understands every aspect of the music she sings, including the accompaniment whether it is string quartet, orchestra, a mass of computers, or a piano. What a grand career she has had, and what an impact she has had on the music she loves, and on so many composers, performers, and students, who have been lucky enough to learn from her genius.
After reading Avuncular for the 6th or 8th time, I called Rodney. I asked him if his poem was supposed to be funny. I wanted to make sure, because I thought it was, but it is very different that most of his other work. I didn’t want to get it wrong and get a tongue lashing! Rodney’s response was immediate: “Oh it’s a joke – a great joke!!”
In my setting of Rodney’s joke, I mess around with individual words in order to signal them out, especially, at the very beginning, the word “Lust.” That seems to be the cause of Rodney’s joke, like it is to so many people. Lust, or as I like to pronounce it: L-L-L-Lust, has thrown off many people, both male and female, and any of the other assortment of sexes. It fools people. It disguises itself as “mother love,” disrupting actual “mother love,” and ruins lives for absolutely no reason at all.
However, in Rodney’s joke, the protagonist’s lucky turn of the stock market and a willing nymph 50+ years younger than the old goat, allow L-L-L-L-Lust transmogrify for another go.
AVUNCULAR
Rodney Jones
He told us lust would turn, transmogrify
to a plural version of mother love.
Friendship improved on that. A few
at sixty would give more
than they kept for themselves.
But parents, they had an expiration
date, like fish or milk.
They were like Jehovah with Jesus.
One day they looked up
and their duties were done.
How late he saw his orphan’s portion of light.
And the spiritual life was surrogate.
Pacifiers and placebos. Only
perspective had meaning now.
Space-time, the anti-hubris, the hope
he might still marry,
if General Electric stayed up,
and become
some fifty-five-year-old’s smiling
eighty-seven-year-old son-in-law.
Rodney Jones
He told us lust would turn, transmogrify
to a plural version of mother love.
Friendship improved on that. A few
at sixty would give more
than they kept for themselves.
But parents, they had an expiration
date, like fish or milk.
They were like Jehovah with Jesus.
One day they looked up
and their duties were done.
How late he saw his orphan’s portion of light.
And the spiritual life was surrogate.
Pacifiers and placebos. Only
perspective had meaning now.
Space-time, the anti-hubris, the hope
he might still marry,
if General Electric stayed up,
and become
some fifty-five-year-old’s smiling
eighty-seven-year-old son-in-law.