My beloved is mine and I am his

And thus a month in Thomas' company comes to an end with his leaving again, this time for around three months (save for a week back here in early February). His initial month's absence, back in October, had its frustrations, but these proved so beneficial to us that I can face the winter with confidence. Put it this way, being apart for nearly four weeks right at the beginning meant we were able to build a relationship rather than give in to physical attraction before anything more had been established and have it all fizzle out in no time.

By last weekend, it was pretty clear we were on to a good thing, but the opinion of a really close friend such as Luke was always going to be welcome. He and Thomas didn't meet until the party on Saturday (at which, incidentally, we served 20 bottles' worth of mulled wine) and got on beautifully. The fact they went out for a coffee next morning while I was at church says it all.

It's not very often I'll use an old-fashioned expression without some measure of irony, but this is an exception. No matter how optimistic I feel about Thomas being away for the next three months, I'm still going to miss him like the dickens.

A whirlwind of a week

Luke's arriving for a three-day visit tonight, so knowing I'd be short of time to put the flat into some semblance of order, I decided to skip Monday's choir rehearsal - yes, I've joined a third group! - so I could do some much-needed housework. Except I met Tom for a bite to eat, we went back to mine and ... well, let's say other things took precedence.

On Tuesday I had an early start at work, had an interview for a supervisory position in the box office which went very well and went along to Scottish Opera's production of Der Rosenkavalier in the evening. Despite being a very enjoyable day, it left little time for anything else.

Which left yesterday and this morning. I won't say the flat is spotless 'cos frankly that's never likely to happen, but at least it's in a fit state to welcome visitors. Just as well, considering I've one of my semiannual parties coming up this weekend - part of the purpose of Luke's visit, the other one being Scottish Opera's production of Handel's Tamerlano, only we're not so sure about that one now.

The cryptic "bring a mug" line has returned. Anyone care to guess why?

Beati qui lugent: the libretto

(for anyone who's interested, the Biblical passages are taken from the Vulgate Bible and the prayers from the Book of Common Prayer)

I: O vos omnes
O vos omnes qui transitis per viam attendite et videte si est dolor sicut dolor meus. Attendite, universi populi, et videte dolorem meum. [Lamentations 1:12,18)
(trans.: All ye that pass by, behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow. Behold, all ye people, and see my sorrow.)

II: Collect for aid against all perils
Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of thy only Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ.

III: Dominus reget me
Dominus reget me et nihil mihi deerit.
In loco pascuae ibi me conlocavit super aquam refectionis educavit me.
Animam meam convertit deduxit me super semitaxs iustitiae propter nomen suum.
Nam et si ambulavero in medio umbrae mortis non timebo mala quoniam tu mecum es virga tua et baculus tuus ipsa consolata sunt.
Parasti in conspectu meo mensam adversus eos qui tribulant me inpinguasti in oleo caput meum et calix meus inebrians quam praeclarus est.
Et misericordia tua subsequitur me omnibus diebus vitae meae et ut inhabitem in domo Domini in longitudinem dierum. [Psalm 23]
(trans: The Lord is my shepherd: therefore can I lack nothing.
He shall feed me in a green pasture and lead me forth beside the waters of comfort.
He shall convert my soul and bring me forth in the paths of righteousness, for his Name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff comfort me.
Thou shalt prepare a table before me against them that trouble me; thou hast anointed my head with oil, and my cup shall be full.
But thy loving-kindness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.)

IV: Prayer for those in sorrow
O heavenly Father, whose blessed Son Jesus Christ did weep at the grave of Lazarus his friend: look, we beseech thee, with compassion upon those who are now in sorrow and affliction; comfort them, 0 Lord, with thy gracious consolations; make them to know that all things work together for good to them that love thee; and grant them evermore sure trust and confidence in thy fatherly care; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.

V: Beati qui lugent
Beati qui lugent quoniam ipsi consolabuntur. [Matthew 5:4]
(trans: Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.)

VI: Collect for All Souls
Father of all, we pray to thee for those we love, but see no longer: Grant them thy peace; let light perpetual shine upon them; and in thy loving wisdom and almighty power, work in them the good purpose of thy perfect will; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

VII: Expecto resurrectionem
Expecto resurrectionem et vitam venturi saeculi. Amen. [Ordinary of the Mass]
(trans: I await the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Amen.)

Contrasts

Among Beethoven's lesser works is a pair of Italian songs, L'amante impatiente, in which the same words are set in very contrasting moods: in one the singer sighs longingly for his/her lover, while in the second he/she is exasperated at the other's tardiness. While not among the composer's best outpourings, it is nonetheless a fascinating example of how one set of words can be interpreted (in this case, by one person) in markedly different ways.

It's comparatively rare for a composer to make multiple use of the same words - one obvious exception being settings of the Ordinary of the Mass - and indeed composers tend to be particular about their choice of texts in general when it comes to vocal music. Before opera seria fell out of favour, Metastasio (whose words Beethoven used in the example above) was more or less ubiquitous and since then, only Shakespeare can lay any claim to universality. Biblical texts, however, stand slightly apart, as they continue to provide inspiration to composers without being restricted to one language alone.

I've become conscious of this just recently in my own composing. Some years ago I wrote a setting of Lamentations 1:12 - "Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow" - in which the emphasis was very much on the word 'sorrow': that one word is repeated a dozen times in the space of a couple of minutes, more often that not in the form of an echoing sigh. Among the pieces I'm working on at the moment is a work, also for unaccompanied choir, which includes the same text, also in Latin, but from a different perspective: this time, the key word is similis, suggesting the listener's pain is nothing compared the speaker's. The same text, once soothing, is now bold and angry: instead of providing comfort they are an accusation.

That said, there wouldn't be much point in composing two near-identical settings of the same words, now would there?

Hopefully not the road to hell

Good intentions can lead one to terrible places, it appears. Despite my last post, I've not posted anything since - after the trip to my mother's (which went as well as it could have done, in the circumstances), it was back to feeling frustrated about a certain person's absence. Since Tom got back, just over a week ago, let's say my mind has been, well, on other things.

Yes folks, I'm no longer single. Life is good. (That's as much as I'm saying at this stage, because I really ought to check that Tom's okay with my writing about him here.)

On the ever-important musical front, I'm started composing yet another work, entitled Beati qui lugent (i.e. Blessed are they who mourn), which should give a pretty good clue as to the sort of piece it is. Scored for unaccompanied voices (increasingly my medium of choice), it is intended to chart the changing moods of a bereaved Christian, from an angry O vos omnes to an evocation of the afterlife, alternating Biblical passages (in Latin) and prayer settings. I imagine it's the closest I'll ever get to writing a Requiem.

On a more cheerful note, my first date with Tom was at a screening of the 1925 (therefore silent) film of The phantom of the Opera, with Lon Chaney in the title role. Unfortunately the technical wizardry was rather let down by plotholes, hammy acting and unintentionally hilarious caption cards. Somehow the villian became a lot less frightening with the revelation he was an insane criminal named Erik ...