Syllables<\/em> is an exploded setting of an old Icelandic text describing the end of the world. I say exploded as I elected to set the text both in English, fragments of Old Icelandic, as well as nonsense syllables taken from both languages. There is a constant, anxious pulse throughout the first section, which ends with a giant unison and the entire choir singing the same text for the first time in the piece. This texture melts into an aquatic, lilting piano accompaniment, over which a long, long line eventually dissolves into unison chordal syllables, as if the last things standing are the fragments of language. <\/p>\n

Syllables was commissioned by the Brooklyn Youth Chorus as part of their 2006-2007 commissioning season<\/a>, alongside works by Paul Morvaec<\/a> and David Lang<\/a>.<\/small><\/p>\n

Read a review here<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Texts<\/strong><\/p>\n

Icelandic texts<\/em>:
\nS\u00f3l t\u00e9r sortna, s\u00c3\u00adgr fold \u00c3\u00ad mar,
\nhverfa af himni hei\u00c3\u00b0ar stj\u00c3\u00b6rnur;
\ngeisar eimi ok aldrnari,
\nleikr h\u00c3\u00a1r hiti vi\u00c3\u00b0 himin sj\u00c3\u00a1lfan.<\/p>\n

Geyr n\u00fa Garmr mj\u00c3\u00b6k fyr Gn\u00c3\u00adpahelli;
\nfestr man slitna, en freki renna.<\/p>\n

S\u00e9r hon upp koma \u00c3\u00b6\u00c3\u00b0ru sinni
\nj\u00c3\u00b6r\u00c3\u00b0 \u00f3r \u00c5\u201cgi i\u00c3\u00b0jagr\u00c5\u201cna;
\nfalla forsar, fl\u00c3\u00bdgr \u00c3\u00b6rn yfir,
\ns\u00c3\u00a1 er \u00c3\u00a1 fjalli fiska vei\u00c3\u00b0ir.<\/p>\n

\u00c3\u017ear munu eptir undrsamligar
\ngullnar t\u00c3\u00b6flur \u00c3\u00ad grasi finnask,
\n\u00c3\u00be\u00c3\u00a6rs \u00c3\u00ad \u00c3\u00a1rdaga \u00c3\u00a1ttar h\u00c3\u00b6f\u00c3\u00b0u.<\/p>\n

V\u00c3\u00b6lusp\u00c3\u00a1 57-59, 61<\/span><\/p>\n

English texts<\/em>:
\nThe sun turns black, earth sinks in the sea,”\u00a8The hot stars down from heaven are whirled;”\u00a8Fierce grows the steam and the life-feeding flame,”\u00a8Till fire leaps high about heaven itself.<\/p>\n

Now Garm howls loud before Gnipahellir,”\u00a8The fetters will burst, and the wolf run free;”\u00a8Much do I know, and more can see”\u00a8Of the fate of the gods, the mighty in fight.<\/p>\n

Now do I see the earth anew”\u00a8Rise all green from the waves again;”\u00a8The cataracts fall, and the eagle flies,”\u00a8And fish he catches beneath the cliffs.<\/p>\n

In wondrous beauty once again”\u00a8Shall the golden tables stand mid the grass,”\u00a8Which the gods had owned in the days of old.<\/p>\n

Trans. Henry Adams Bellows (1923)<\/span>\n<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Syllables is an exploded setting of an old Icelandic text describing the end of the world. I say exploded as I elected to set the text both in English, fragments of Old Icelandic, as well as nonsense syllables taken from both languages. There is a constant, anxious pulse throughout the first section, which ends with […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/134"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=134"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/134\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=134"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=134"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=134"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}