Iain Grandage, Kevin Gillam, Brendon Darby

Composed by Iain Grandage, libretto by Kevin Gillam. Commissioned for and performed by Sara Macliver (soprano), Allan Meyer (clarinet) and Graeme Gilling (piano). Paintings by Brendon Darby (courtesy of Janet Holmes a Court). Commissioned and acquitted by Jody Harrison (Director, Solo to Symphony) through funds by the Australia Council.

In 2005 Blackwood was commissioned by Jody Harrison assisted by a grant through the Australia Council.

Growing up listening to her father Jack perform Schubert’s Shepherd on the Rock gave the initial inspiration for Jody’s desire to add to the limited repertoire for clarinet, soprano and piano. This genesis of an idea grew into the inclusion of a broader inclusion of artists to create this uniquely West Australian project.

Iain Grandage said “These are structurally formal poems, yet they contain deeply expressive language. In setting them to music I have attempted to reflect this duality – syllabic structures of the poems are reflected formally in the metres of the musical settings while the melodic lines inhabit a far more lyrical domain. Similarly, the expansion inherent in both the river’s growth and our own personal journey is reflected in a gradual expansion of musical intervals through the course of the work from 2nds in arterials through to octaves in then sea.

Clarinettist Allan Meyer, soprano Sara Macliver and pianist Graeme Gilling were the selected artists. Composer Iain Grandage envisaged a song cycle and accepted the commission as did poet, Kevin Gillam.

Iain and Kevin discussed a life and love story entwined with the journey of the Blackwood River from the South West to the ocean, linking with the black wood of the clarinet.

Kevin said “I see major value in a work such as this in fusing the art forms of music and poetry with the more general theme of landscape.” Knowing that West Australian artist Brendon Darby built a studio on the banks of the Blackwood River and had spent many hours painting “that beautiful river” Jody approached Brendon to contribute paintings as a backdrop to the performance. Darby said he felt “great affinity” with the Blackwood River and was the ultimate addition to the Blackwood team.

The clarinet (the woodwind family’s own black wood) alternatively plays the roles of lover and landscape – Messiaen-like birdsong and watery figurations on occasion make way for duets with the voice, most notably in the two love songs that delineate the work’s tripartite structure.

The first of these love songs (some nights there are no words) marks the end of the first section of the work and the second (Seine) occurs at the beginning of the final section. Throughout the central section of the cycle, an ever-darkening series of settings incorporate expanding musical means (including a quote from Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire) and end with a clarinet solo – a reflection on the text ‘how great the diameter of solitude’.

Blackwood was premiered on Sunday 13th February 2011 at Government House Ballroom presented by the Perth International Arts Festival and Tura New Music. Janet Holmes à Court added to her art collection Brendon Darby’s diptych Blackwood Song during the interval of this performance and generously allows the art to be included in all performances. Brendon meticulously incorporated parts of Kevin’s poetry into the paintings.

Iain said “My joy in writing this work was that it was in fact not an act of solitude. I was writing for dear friends and colleagues – musicians of the highest order whom I have had the pleasure of making music with for many years. I would like to thanks Sara, Allan and Graeme for their patience, facility and unfailing generosity whilst the piece emerged, Jody Harrison for commissioning it (with assistance from the Music Board of the Australia Council) and of course Kevin for his wonderful words that help transport us all to our own places of calm and deep contentment.”

Iain Grandage 2010

Iain Grandage programme notes (2011):

Text:

The texts of the song cycle Blackwood track the course of the Blackwood River in the South-West of Western Australia from its head to the Indian Ocean. However on another, more personal level they track a very human tale of birth, love and transcendence. The tension between the expanse of landscape and the intimacy of the human being within it is, for me, integrally connected to our sense of Australian identity. It has long been an inspiration to me, as it has many Australian composers.

Reviews:

“This is a uniquely West Australian project inspired by the Blackwood River. It is a beautiful work for voice, clarinet and piano, the unique combinations of which produce several wonderful moments during the work. It is a very engaging piece with great unity from movement to movement leaving the listener often unaware of the change until later.”

APRA/AMC Classical Music Awards Judging Panel

TEXT

prelude

how great the diameter of solitude?

(i) arterials

across the back of this land,

across knots and bones

thin rivulets of leaving

thoughts that fall then join in flow

at gravity’s whim

across the back of this land

and throat’s of crow and logic’s

smooth stones mark these veins,

thin rivulets of leaving

long sentences curling with

sibilance whisper

across the back of this land

(iii) three rivers

(i) the afternoon river

is patient and

festooned with kookaburra

and full up on winter and

the colour

of my shoe with

white froth from upstream

and through old glass are

tuarts on the

far bank

and inwardly rippled with the

worryings of larvae

as a duck cuts

against flow and

seeps into the old stool

lying, half in

half out

and ignores the rusted

sculptings of black cockatoos-

knows sunset is due

many attempts at the one

breath, all bleeding, these

thin rivulets of leaving

as wet bracken gifts to the

distant pull of brine,

across the back of this land

thin rivulets of leaving

(ii) some nights there are no words

some nights there are no words,

just an undressing,

a gradual nakedness

the Blackwood ripples, swarms

and we breathe it in,

us born-agains lying sweet and fragile

by its side,

lingering,

hypnotised by the river’s lick

of wounded land.

marooned beneath the sooty sky

shrubs play chinese whispers

but settle longer now,

luxuriating, shivering a little

as frost too seeks a skin

on which to shrink,

us two freckled blue,

smeared,

but patient, pushing thought

through unbuttoned sleeves

some nights there are no words

(ii) today’s river

like religion, drowning

the old stool,

like new pewter,

knows of rain

(iii) the last river

the last river was before the

last river is old glass the

last river is raven and green

oil drum the last river is

story unseen the last river

knew two ducks the last

river has taken more land the

last river beyond sunlight

the last river before moon the

last river is gnarled bones

of tuart the last river too

dark for dreams the last river

won’t be written down

(iv) night river

gums stand in second-

hand moonlight, river

dark, murmuring its

creed, somewhere close, metallic

notes of night

parrot, frogs ’wooden

reply, careless slap

of wet syllables

(vii) then sea

before mouth, green pearl,

river’s offering

or just forgotten?

moon indifferent

river offering

gush of fresh in brine

moon indifferent

frogs throating their known

against the pylons

of jetty. under-growth servers the purpose

of prayer cushion. how

great the diameter of solitude?

(v) (instrumental)

gush of fresh in brine

wind shaves banks to dune

frogs throating their known

wind shaves banks to dune

but, not forgotten

before mouth, green pearl

(vi) Seine

so we took us to stream, you swum.

I did not. we watched haze of late day

smudge in the banks, you spoke. I did not.

a man with road and line and fly

sewed and burred the murked skin. You dozed.

I did not. We drank, just a bit, sips,

wine your Aunt left a long time back, a

crisp white which tugged us to now. you

moved close. I did too. It could have been

the wine, the time, the way the sun

slunk back to wait ‘til dawn, could have been

the light, how white and hope and ash

and loss etched and webbed and made us taut

but slack and small and one, could have

been the choir of frogs that bumphed and burped

to each and all from the rocks and

scree near the dam. it was, we think, all

of these things. You asked. I said yes

Poems © Kevin Gillam.

Reproduced here with permission of the author.

https://limelight-arts.com.au/reviews/iain-grandage-blackwood-allan-meyer-sara-macliver-graeme-gilling/

https://www.australianmusiccentre.com.au/work/grandage-iain-blackwood

Blackwood is available on Spotify.