Symphony No. 2 Crime in the House of Names for orchestra and mezzo-soprano solo (2008)
Written for the Eugene Contemporary Chamber Ensemble
Premiere: November 2008, Beall Concert Hall, Eugene OR
Finalist: 2009 ASCAP Morton Gould Young Composer Awards

I. On the last night, there were vultures in the air and wolves outside the door; with arms raised and throats wide, a cry went up to heaven.


II. The mirrors reflected the play, and the joy.


III. Sparkling fools, they were aglitter and aflame.

IV. Alone, but not afraid, it was the clocks that sang the world to sleep.

Live recording, November 2008
Eugene Contemporary Chamber Ensemble
Scott J. Ordway, conductor
Jill Windes, mezzo-soprano

Note

CRIME IN THE HOUSE OF NAMES is a testament to a deeply felt belief of mine that the world, in all of its horror and brutality, is nevertheless held together by a central core of meaning and of goodness, something reinforced by our capacity for kindness and joy, and demonstrated by humanity’s profound desire to recognize the great beauty that exists in our world, a beauty that is the manifestation of the goodness of all things. More immediately, CRIME is my assurance, to myself and to the world, that, in the face of all calamity, in the presence of the terror and the collapse of reason and the desertion of hope, that this core will hold, that we will together stand, and sacrifice, and learn, and change, and that we will all of us rise above our own places to stay in goodness, and in beauty.

This symphony is an expression of my belief and my faith in this ideal.

Text

“Autumn Day”

Lord, it is time. The huge summer has gone by.
Now lay thy shadows on the sundials
and on the meadows let the wind go free.

Command the fruits to swell on tree and vine;
grant them these more warm transparent days,
urge them on to fullness then, and press
the final sweetness into heavy wine.

Whoever has no home now, will never have one.
Whoever is alone will stay alone,
will sit, read, write long letters through the evening
and wander boulevards, up and down,
restlessly, while the dry leaves blow.

Text by Rainer Maria Rilke, freely adapted for music by the composer