Tides

From the Composer:
The inspiration for the musical elements presented in “Tides” was derived during the social unrest following the events of 2020. The collective entrenchment of dueling idealisms led to a futility of meaningful dialogue. This dialogue becomes the musical basis of this piece.

“Tides” begins with a piano ostinato that depicts the occurrences of the past few years laced with violin and viola that paint the vision of the 2 sides presenting their points in the court of public opinion. This is immediately followed by shouts of injustice and the noise of riots and protests across the country. You’ll hear the waves of turbulence and uncertainty which finally gives away to the rising tide of hope. This theme is interspersed through the remainder of the song as we come to the realization that we can try again: better this time, more compassionate this time, more loving this time, more understanding this time.

Of course, the well of emotions in Wilbye’s madrigal is truly inspiring, and I’ve endeavored to capture this melancholy and irony in my own version for 8 voices. Additionally, I’ve tried to add a sense of mystery and gravitas as a personal expression of my own unrequited love. The work opens with a sparse texture featuring two solo sopranos, gradually becoming richer and darker in colour as the music unfolds. The music swells similar to the Wilbye, but as it falls (or “drowns”), jazz harmonies offer intimacy and warmth, a kind of musical escapism from the pains of love and loss, before transitioning back to the mystery of the opening.

– Reginal Wright, 2021

From the Poet:
I wrote “Tides” in the fall of 2020 when our country felt so fractured: the increasing threat of COVID; the continued wrestling with racial and social injustice; political division and anger that was reaching fevered pitch. Everyone was so loud, yet we couldn’t hear what was being said. It was hard some days to engage with the bombardment of hurt and anger, loss and grief, division and so, so much fear. It was in one of those moments, when I felt paralyzed by hopelessness, that I framed the piece that would become “Tides.” I needed a reason to keep loving well and leaning in to my neighbors and listening, even when I didn’t agree. I needed hope. We are all broken and hurting in different ways; we are all capable of allowing sound discourse to succumb to a wave of fear. I’ve found that when I am willing to turn down the noise and listen with patience and compassion, I can really hear people. I still may not agree, but I can engage. It’s when we give up trying have we truly lost.

– Cara Cullen, 2021