Compositions - Choral - Anthem for the Millennium - Awake, Awake, the World is Young Op. 34

A note from the composer:

In a recent issue of the British Music Society Journal, I noted that this year will see the premiere of a whole raft of new works commissioned especially to celebrate the Millennium. All of these works are indebted to a range of commissioning bodies who, like the Charlton Kings and Cirencester Choral Societies, had the vision and that all-important spirit of adventure necessary to engage composers to undertake this important creative endeavour. Of course, the initial planning of these works began a number of years ago, and I was very thrilled to have been approached in 1998 by John Wright, who sounded me out with the suggestion of writing a choral work that would be performed by both choral societies.

John was keen to give me the freedom to respond to the theme of the Millennium without imposing any pre-conditions and so, without further hesitation, I began to trawl my library for a suitable text. I had in mind a work that was broadly reflective in character, centering upon humanity's achievements. However, the more I considered this, the more I felt how little humanity had achieved collectively. I then began to see the work more as a re-affirmation of some of mankind's more noble goals and aspirations.

This was brought into focus when my good friend the author Anthony Boden drew my attention to a section from Tennyson's In Memoriam that began with the lines 'Ring out the old, ring in the new'. Tennyson's jubilant words and simple verse structure in quatrains where ideal for setting. My only reservation was the constant repetition of the words 'Ring out' and 'Ring in' at the beginning of each stanza. I soon realised that this was going to be one of the work's creative challenges, and that it would determine to a large extent the work's subsequent structural development. Another element that I felt was absent from Tennyson's words was the voice of the individual; that profound ontological perspective upon the world, and so I needed to find a complementary text. The answer came in the guise of James Elroy Flecker.

I had first come across him when I heard Gerald Finzi's wonderful setting of To a poet a thousand years hence. I was drawn to Flecker's contemplative spirit and I wondered whether there were more poetic gems waiting to be found. It didn't take me long to discover A New Year's Carol with its inspired opening lines:

Awake, Awake! The world is young,
For all its weary years of thought:
The starkest fights must still be fought,
The most surprising songs be sung

Here was the element of self-renewal that was essential to my vision of what a Millennium work should represent. Humanity may not have gone far along the road to achieving its cherished goals, but we must never forget these noble aspirations or stop trying to reach them. I believe that every individual plays their part in the unfolding of history, and I hope that this work in some small way may help to illuminate that pathway and engage the listener directly in the challenges of this unfinished journey as we embark upon the next thousand years. By placing the Flecker poem at the heart of the work, flanking it on each side of the Tennyson, I had arrived at a loose structure upon which to build the music.

The scoring of the piece for Brass, Percussion, Organ and S.A.T.B Choir was in part determined at the outset by the terms of the commission; however, the character of Tennyson's words strongly suggested the fanfare possibilities of trumpets and the vibrancy of the percussion. The addition of a solo part for mezzo-soprano did not materialise until much later on in the composition. I felt that Flecker's very personal utterance demanded an equally individual response; this is represented by the soloist's role in the central section of the work.

Within each of the three main sections the varying moods and emotions attempts to mirror the specific needs of each of the stanzas. An introduction marked 'Larghetto Pomposo' begins the work: the 'pomposo' marking specifically chosen to mirror the more self-important qualities of mankind. The opening "Ring out the old, ring in the new" and its insistent restatements at various points in the work heralds the collective human desire for renewal and hope. The almost intoned "ring out a slowly dying cause" for chorus and organ is a loftier sentiment, where tubular bells punctuate a more deferential approach to life. After a restatement of the opening choral idea, a bridge passage leads us to the central section for mezzo soprano. Here the 'I' becomes the spokesperson for humanity. The mood is one of extreme reflection and beauty, where a simple organ line accompanies the mezzo soprano's intensely lyrical utterance. In the section that follows, the choir is used in a more contrapuntal way, leading us to a powerful climax on the word 'Truth'. Here we see a glimpse of that 'truth' which will release us from the pathos of existence. Its brief diatonic feel pulls us away from the complexity of the highly chromatic writing that precedes it, and stands as an important and powerful musical metaphor.

The recapitulation of the work's opening words was important both symbolically and structurally. A brief moment of respite from the intensity of the central section is heard in a dialogue between chorus and instrumentalists (in particular the percussion). This brings us to what is perhaps the work's emotional apotheosis. Here, the previously intoned music on the words "Ring out" becomes almost menacing as the writing becomes more tortured and chromatic. The release comes on the words "Ring out the thousand wars of old, ring in the thousand years of peace". On the word "peace" the sound world is one of stillness and repose, and perhaps more importantly, resignation: the slight jarring of harmony in the organ reminding us that while humanity aspires to peace, it is unlikely we shall ever truly achieve it.

How to finish a work can often be problematical for a composer, and this work proved to be no exception. I had originally intended to end with the penultimate stanza. This would certainly have accorded with the universal hope for peace and the end to all war, and it would have given the work a more secular appeal. But what is the Millennium about if it does not celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ? So my task was to round off my Millennium Anthem with a coda that heralded the "Christ that is to be", mirroring Tennyson's message that the world could be reborn through Christ's enduring capacity for spiritual renewal. This was brought home to me when on New Year's Day I opened the Sunday Times. To my astonishment there was the very Tennyson poem that I had just set. I knew then that I had made the right choice. Tennyson's eloquent words are a challenge to us all, and it is my sincere hope that this work will help to promote his noble vision.

From In Memoriam A.H.H. by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (Canto CVI):

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

A New Year's Carol by James Elroy Flecker:

Awake, awake! The world is young,
For all its weary years of thought:
The starkest fights must still be fought,
The most surprising songs be sung.

And those who have no other Gods
May still behold, if they bestir,
The windy amphitheatre
Where dawn the timeless periods.

Then hear the shouting-voice of men
Magniloquently rise and ring;
Their flashing eyes and measured swing
Prove that the world is young again.

I was beyond the hills and heard
That old and fervent Goddess call,
Whose voice is like a waterfall,
And sweeter than the singing-bird.

O stubborn arms of rosy youth,
Break down your other Gods,and turn
To where her dauntless eyes do burn -
The silent pools of Light and Truth.