|
|
Goodnight Moon (rev. 2023)
for singing cellist [16 mins.]
Written for Nathaniel Pearce, Singing Cellist
(or tenor and cello)
World Premiere 24 July 2021 at the Anchorage Chamber Music Festival - Alaska
Preview (virtual) at the First Congregational church, Ann Arbor Michigan
Opus 81 — A.S.C.A.P. work I.D. 910927633
SCORE
(or tenor and cello)
World Premiere 24 July 2021 at the Anchorage Chamber Music Festival - Alaska
Preview (virtual) at the First Congregational church, Ann Arbor Michigan
Opus 81 — A.S.C.A.P. work I.D. 910927633
SCORE
Click on this link to hear Nathaniel Pearce performing GOODNIGHT MOON
https://youtu.be/euVHlBh9TT0?t=1112
or
Listen to Tenor/Cellist Nathaniel Pierce's entire "solo" recital below.
https://youtu.be/euVHlBh9TT0?t=1112
or
Listen to Tenor/Cellist Nathaniel Pierce's entire "solo" recital below.
Goodnight Moon (rev. 2023)
As a composer, I have a problem with my boundless confidence and expectations in the abilities of the professional musicians, who will be performing my music. For example, in my first string quartet (1982) the rhythm is probably impossible to execute. The music is purposely and consistently without an audible pulse. There is rarely a clear downbeat, and there are very few rhythmic unisons joining two or more instruments. Nearly every measure has a different time signature — meters, which because pulse and downbeat are not audible, are theoretically redundant!! Actually, the constant switching of time signatures can only be visual and not aurally perceivable. The music is meant to be extremely over syncopated, even though syncopation — especially the jazz syncopation that is at the heart of all my music — is dependent on maintaining a square, consistent, easily discernable pulse, of which the syncopation bounces off. And to make matters worse, within this pulseless framework, the tempo of the music changes 22 times shifting among 13 different tempos that come and go, sometimes immediate, i.e. without preparation, and often are retained for only a single bar before switching once again! No wonder the cellist lost his place 4 or 5 times during the work’s premiere.
What does this have to do with GOODNIGHT MOON? Well, I have a problem with my boundless confidence and expectations in the abilities of the professional musicians, who will be performing my music. I wrote this piece, because I had listened to Mr. Pierce’s performances of his arrangements for tenor and cellist. His abilities both as a cellist and as a tenor and as a tenor/cellist are gorgeous. I was moved and inspired. I wanted to write for him. I chose a text, the children’s storybook, GOODNIGHT MOON, because I had just become a grandfather. What better text to commemorate that event.
However, I really do have a problem with my boundless confidence and expectations in the abilities of the professional musicians, who will be performing my music. As I began putting Margaret Brown’s words to song and underscoring with cello support, the notion of creating music for two yet performed by one began splitting and multiplying. Like cells in nature, two performers became four, then eight, then more, and more. The notion of a little bunny being put to bed by an old woman in a “great green room” expanded. My confidence and expectation in Mr. Pierce apparently left musical reality! Mr. Pierce the cellist became the little bunny, fidgeting, fighting sleep, and generally being naughty. Mr. Pierce the tenor became the old woman slowly losing her patience with that sassy behavior. The old woman, I mean the tenor, then began reading the story, rather than singing it. But while she, I mean he (the tenor) read the story, the cello – not the cellist, the cello itself – became the little bunny, continuing to sass and frolic, and then dancing and finally falling out of bed as the old tenor, I mean the old woman, yells “HUSH,”, and the little cellist, I mean bunny, finally calms, and begins to fall to sleep. I mean how do you make a cello sound like a bunny falling out of bed?
I had forced Mr. Pierce, a world class tenor and cellist, out of his comfort zone. He was now a vaudeville performer, those old troupers who could sing, dance, tell jokes, juggle, mime, spin pie plates on sticks, and anything else that would get them on stage! My score forced Mr. Pierce to become an actor — no, actors, playing several roles in this one-man show, both comic and serious. Mr. Pierce was also forced to express a wide range of emotions, physical stunts, switching not just between the little bunny and the old woman, but clocks and socks, a comb and a brush, a red balloon, a bowl full of mush, and a mouse in a little house.
As Mr. Pierce slowly begins to doze off, my score pushes him to create twilight hallucinations. Then, as the piece heads toward the double bar, Mr. Pierce finally, finally gets to sing and play the cello. Wasn’t that nice of me. However, I couldn’t have planned it better, if accidentally. Through the first half of the piece, forcing the singer/cellist to expand his roles to what could only make him feel off-balanced, perplexed, like a fish way out of water, and confused — like the audience probably is. I must say that through it all Mr. Pierce was fearless, but the audience is ready for some calm. By the time we are in the home stretch, Mr. Pierce is solidly, and I presume happily, back in his comfort zone. With the bunny finally sleeping, as is the old woman in her chair, we finally hear music.
The ending song made this aging composer quite emotional as he wrote. I think it was the line, “Goodnight Nobody.” The music was no longer just a setting of a children’s storybook. I was relating it all to life. The old woman was my mother, resting in peace, and I was the bunny, saying “goodnight,” and she was whispering “hush.” Then the old woman was my old woman, my wife, my love, and our five children were bunnies listening to her read to them. And, as Mr. Pierce and his cello delicately sings the ending song that puts us all to sleep, all of us were whispering “hush” and saying “goodnight”
As a composer, I have a problem with my boundless confidence and expectations in the abilities of the professional musicians, who will be performing my music. For example, in my first string quartet (1982) the rhythm is probably impossible to execute. The music is purposely and consistently without an audible pulse. There is rarely a clear downbeat, and there are very few rhythmic unisons joining two or more instruments. Nearly every measure has a different time signature — meters, which because pulse and downbeat are not audible, are theoretically redundant!! Actually, the constant switching of time signatures can only be visual and not aurally perceivable. The music is meant to be extremely over syncopated, even though syncopation — especially the jazz syncopation that is at the heart of all my music — is dependent on maintaining a square, consistent, easily discernable pulse, of which the syncopation bounces off. And to make matters worse, within this pulseless framework, the tempo of the music changes 22 times shifting among 13 different tempos that come and go, sometimes immediate, i.e. without preparation, and often are retained for only a single bar before switching once again! No wonder the cellist lost his place 4 or 5 times during the work’s premiere.
What does this have to do with GOODNIGHT MOON? Well, I have a problem with my boundless confidence and expectations in the abilities of the professional musicians, who will be performing my music. I wrote this piece, because I had listened to Mr. Pierce’s performances of his arrangements for tenor and cellist. His abilities both as a cellist and as a tenor and as a tenor/cellist are gorgeous. I was moved and inspired. I wanted to write for him. I chose a text, the children’s storybook, GOODNIGHT MOON, because I had just become a grandfather. What better text to commemorate that event.
However, I really do have a problem with my boundless confidence and expectations in the abilities of the professional musicians, who will be performing my music. As I began putting Margaret Brown’s words to song and underscoring with cello support, the notion of creating music for two yet performed by one began splitting and multiplying. Like cells in nature, two performers became four, then eight, then more, and more. The notion of a little bunny being put to bed by an old woman in a “great green room” expanded. My confidence and expectation in Mr. Pierce apparently left musical reality! Mr. Pierce the cellist became the little bunny, fidgeting, fighting sleep, and generally being naughty. Mr. Pierce the tenor became the old woman slowly losing her patience with that sassy behavior. The old woman, I mean the tenor, then began reading the story, rather than singing it. But while she, I mean he (the tenor) read the story, the cello – not the cellist, the cello itself – became the little bunny, continuing to sass and frolic, and then dancing and finally falling out of bed as the old tenor, I mean the old woman, yells “HUSH,”, and the little cellist, I mean bunny, finally calms, and begins to fall to sleep. I mean how do you make a cello sound like a bunny falling out of bed?
I had forced Mr. Pierce, a world class tenor and cellist, out of his comfort zone. He was now a vaudeville performer, those old troupers who could sing, dance, tell jokes, juggle, mime, spin pie plates on sticks, and anything else that would get them on stage! My score forced Mr. Pierce to become an actor — no, actors, playing several roles in this one-man show, both comic and serious. Mr. Pierce was also forced to express a wide range of emotions, physical stunts, switching not just between the little bunny and the old woman, but clocks and socks, a comb and a brush, a red balloon, a bowl full of mush, and a mouse in a little house.
As Mr. Pierce slowly begins to doze off, my score pushes him to create twilight hallucinations. Then, as the piece heads toward the double bar, Mr. Pierce finally, finally gets to sing and play the cello. Wasn’t that nice of me. However, I couldn’t have planned it better, if accidentally. Through the first half of the piece, forcing the singer/cellist to expand his roles to what could only make him feel off-balanced, perplexed, like a fish way out of water, and confused — like the audience probably is. I must say that through it all Mr. Pierce was fearless, but the audience is ready for some calm. By the time we are in the home stretch, Mr. Pierce is solidly, and I presume happily, back in his comfort zone. With the bunny finally sleeping, as is the old woman in her chair, we finally hear music.
The ending song made this aging composer quite emotional as he wrote. I think it was the line, “Goodnight Nobody.” The music was no longer just a setting of a children’s storybook. I was relating it all to life. The old woman was my mother, resting in peace, and I was the bunny, saying “goodnight,” and she was whispering “hush.” Then the old woman was my old woman, my wife, my love, and our five children were bunnies listening to her read to them. And, as Mr. Pierce and his cello delicately sings the ending song that puts us all to sleep, all of us were whispering “hush” and saying “goodnight”
Goodnight Moon
by Margaret Wise Brown
In the great green room
There was a telephone
And a red balloon
And a picture of -
The cow jumping over the moon
And there were three little bears sitting on chairs
And two little kittens
And a pair of mittens
And a little toy house
And a young mouse
And a comb
And a brush
And a bowl full of mush
And a quiet old lady who was whispering “hush”
Goodnight room
Goodnight moon
Goodnight cow jumping over the moon
Goodnight light
And the red balloon
Goodnight bears
Goodnight chairs
Goodnight kittens
And goodnight mittens
Goodnight clocks
And goodnight socks
Goodnight little house
And goodnight mouse
Goodnight comb
And goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody
Goodnight mush
And goodnight to the old lady whispering “hush”
Goodnight stars
Goodnight air
Good night noises everywhere
by Margaret Wise Brown
In the great green room
There was a telephone
And a red balloon
And a picture of -
The cow jumping over the moon
And there were three little bears sitting on chairs
And two little kittens
And a pair of mittens
And a little toy house
And a young mouse
And a comb
And a brush
And a bowl full of mush
And a quiet old lady who was whispering “hush”
Goodnight room
Goodnight moon
Goodnight cow jumping over the moon
Goodnight light
And the red balloon
Goodnight bears
Goodnight chairs
Goodnight kittens
And goodnight mittens
Goodnight clocks
And goodnight socks
Goodnight little house
And goodnight mouse
Goodnight comb
And goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody
Goodnight mush
And goodnight to the old lady whispering “hush”
Goodnight stars
Goodnight air
Good night noises everywhere