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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2020-10-24 16:51:54 -07:00
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writing/sonata/when-we-sang.md
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@ -30,4 +30,10 @@ But then you hit them with a quick one-two-three. You hit them with the Kernis,
And then you hit them with the Walton, those clashing, jarring chords and obsessively precise rhythms drawing them forward. It's dissonant, discordant, but in the frenetically organized way that modern music is. Virtuosity of a different sort, praising brother sun, sister moon.
But then it's time. It's time for *Friede auf Erden*. It's time for that vision of peace on earth that is beautifully intricate in its structure, perfectly suited to the more operatic voices without necessarily leaving the lyric, choral voices behind. That vision that is not wholly tonal but certainly not atonal, draped lace-like across an eight-minute-long I-IV-I progression.
And when you sing, they lift into the air with such grace as would make the albatross envious. They have joined you in the air there, buoyed up by the sound of your collective voices, rich and bright, soft and hard, quiet and loud, and now the movement of the air *is* cyclonic. They stay suspended, buffeted, swirling, and as you belt out the four-note motif at the climax, their eyes close as one, and when that denouement converges into a single plagal cadence, no one breathes, for the sound is coming from somewhere else. It is a platonic sound. It comes from the idea of Choir rather than from you, the chorus. It is a sound that resonates through the hall, from no central source following its signal path to no specific sink as, yes, the audience has become one platonic listener in turn.
And then the sound stops and so does the tornadic motion as the air is frozen in place, thick, honeyed, and the conductor's hands stay up for an achingly long time, and then when he brings them down, you can breathe again, and the audience can breathe again, and the air is once more free to move.
And the audience applauds and cheers with a startling suddenness, and you notice that as you settle back down to the risers and the audience settles back down into the seats, you never quite touch the ground again. Not for weeks. It's ages before you can feel the concrete or carpet beneath your bare feet again.