SSAA a cappella, approx. 6 minutes
Premiered June 8 and June 15, 2019: Accord Treble Choir, New York City
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New England Song: Program Notes
I was born in Connecticut. I grew up amongst red oaks and sugar maples, sassafras and skunk cabbage. After four glorious years of college in the wilds of New Hampshire, and six decidedly unglorious months in New York City (it was me, New York, not you), I followed in the footsteps of many an easterner and sought a new life out west. Three years later, with a good thing going in San Francisco, I was suddenly overcome by a wave of homesickness for the hardwood forests of New England, the four seasons—the whole life I had left behind. I picked up my ukulele and wrote "New England Song." My old band, Stand Up Eight, had recently broken up, and I was experimenting with performing as a solo singer-songwriter. I sang this song in public exactly once. It was so intensely personal, and so perfectly stuck a finger in the open wound of my longing for home, that to sing it out loud was almost literally painful. I never performed it again. But I did keep singing the song to myself, over and over again, for years. Eventually it occurred to me what was going on: I was grieving. And this song was helping me heal. It felt silly, in a way. I had a great life in California. I remained of my own free will. And here I was pining for a place, when I'd left plenty of loved ones behind as well. Where was their song? Well, I missed them too. But somehow, this longing was different. I couldn’t call New England just to hear its voice. I could fly out for a visit, but I could never again experience the slow turning of the seasons in all their fullness. I could never again truly inhabit this place that was still home to me. There are worse things, to be sure. Still. I was sad, and alone in my sadness. But I had this song. Eighteen years on, I am still in California. Part of me will always, always long for the hills and forests of home. But that open wound of longing has slowly but surely healed over. When Accord invited me to write a piece for their Longing program, I knew it was time for New England Song to be sung again. It was a deeply meaningful experience to create this new arrangement, and I deeply appreciate Accord for giving it voice. By the way: in the process of arranging the song for Accord, I realized something interesting. The song contains a descending chromatic line that happens over and over again; it wasn't until I was in grad school, well after writing the song, that I learned this type of line was widely used by Renaissance composers to depict a certain emotion: grief. |
Words by Michael T Roberts
One day I left my world behind And headed West away from you Said my prayers and swore to you I’m coming back And in the West I could not find All your subtle shades of blue Your gentle sun, your morning dew So I’m coming back I’m coming back Well I recall the joy of sacrifice November rain, December freeze Springtime bloom and summer breeze You bring them back Autumn fire and winter ice A pool of honey from the trees God, they bring me to my knees They bring me back Western songs, the past is gone And a memory is all I have to praise Did you cry for what you’d lost When I turned and walked away? Well I don’t care what they say I’m coming back You gave me life in summertime When I dipped beneath your waves Drank of you and I was saved You brought me back Such peculiar peace of mind To walk among your weathered graves The sacred histories I crave You bring them back Western dawn, the past is gone But if I close my eyes again you take me back And I run through seas of pine The smell like music from the earth Slick and sweet, you holy earth Will you take me back? Western songs go on and on And I miss you like I’d miss a lovely lady A beautiful lady With starlight in your eyes And hill-wind in your breath And you lie among the leaves And kiss them as they fall There’s honey on your lips Printing circles on my heart And you hold me to your breast And smile as I whisper: Spread me over the river when I’m gone When my season comes |