BY STEPHANIE ESLAKE
A requiem is a mass for the dead. But through the music of composer Paul Stanhope, the medium may be better described as a celebration of community, collaboration, and life.
Paul started working on his own requiem more than two decades ago, and it evolved throughout the story of his life, changing shape through his connection to the Sydney Chamber Choir, the birth of his two children, and a creative partnership with Yuin composer Brenda Gifford.
Crafted in the context of a lifetime, and slated to premiere in the midst of a pandemic, we sit down with Paul to talk about the story of his work.
Paul Stanhope: A New Requiem marks the world premiere of his work, and it will be performed this 13 March at the City Recital Hall.
Paul, how are you feeling about the world premiere of Requiem in the City Recital Hall?
There is always a mixture of excitement and nerves, especially with a big work. I had the opportunity to workshop some of the piece at the end of 2019 and it was great to get a really positive reaction from the choir then. The premiere was supposed to happen mid-2020, but this was again postponed until March this year.
We are forging on optimistically, despite the tumult of the present pandemic. I think the circumstances may make the subject matter especially poignant.
Take us back to when Requiem was first started, long before the pandemic. Why was it commissioned?
It wasn’t formally commissioned until 2018, but elements and ideas of the requiem go back to 1999 when I composed a commemorative choral piece, a setting of the Lux Aeterna (Light Eternal) text from the requiem, which had elements of grief and also consolation in it. In the same year, I composed two settings for soprano and ensemble of texts by Oodgeroo Noonuccal around themes of grief and loss.
Then in 2016, I was asked to compose another commemorative choral work, this time a setting of the Agnus Dei, where I juxtaposed a setting of Mary Elizabeth Frye’s famous poem Do not stand at my grave and weep with the Latin requiem text. This juxtaposition of elements worked really well, and I later continued that sense of conversation of elements in the requiem.
Conversations about a major commission from Sydney Chamber Choir eventually settled on the idea of a requiem, and at that point began assembling existing elements with a view to create new movements.
I was able to think a lot about the architecture and shape of the piece as a whole, reflecting on how the conversation of old and new elements would give the piece momentum.
So what is your requiem about?
In every age, composers have repurposed or personalised the narrative and themes of the requiem, and it is certainly the case with mine. Following Britten’s lead of interspersing English language texts in the requiem, the setting of poetry by Emily Dickinson, Mary Elizabeth Frye, and Oodgeroo Noonuccal sets to disrupt the ancient narrative.
There are two solo and one duo arias, which use the texts by Oodgeroo. The insights her poetry brings, around the grieving and mourning process from an Indigenous perspective, brings depth and insight into the themes of the requiem. I can’t imagine a purely European set of texts or a straight liturgical requiem actually being appropriate any more! So the idea of locating a death ritual on country is an important theme.
In this concert, that theme is enriched by the inclusion of Brenda Gifford’s piece Mother Earth / Minga Bagan.
The composition of Requiem has spanned a lifetime. How have you changed throughout the duration of the process, and how has the composition changed along with you?
I don’t think I could have completed a requiem 20-or-more years ago. It hadn’t occurred to me to do this – I had lots of other projects and ideas to go on with in 1999! I moved to London in 2000 to do a sort of finishing school at the Guildhall School of Music. My career was just starting then, and I was looking for opportunities to compose for orchestras, chamber ensembles, and getting a foothold on this strange career choice.
Inevitably, you change over time. Fortunately, as you get older as a composer, you acquire technique and experience. I’ve now had practice at writing a few larger-scale pieces, and this certainly teaches you about elements of drama, contrast, and momentum. I think I’ve been able to put a few lessons I learnt into practice in this piece.
Despite the large timeframe of composition, I find there is a substantial sense of consistency of compositional voice, which I’m relieved about! In composing new movements, I’ve been able to hint at textures and motifs of the already completed movements. This also gave me permission to explore some things which I’ve become interested in, which might be seen to be in conversation with the earlier me.
Circumstances change enormously over 20 years! One of the important things that happened to me was becoming music director of the Sydney Chamber Choir between 2006 and 2015. Standing up week after week directing a choir gives you a real sense of the medium. The choir’s voices have really gotten inside my head — yes, I should probably see a doctor about that! — and in turn, my choral work reflects that practice.
I should also say that getting married and having two kids is pretty important too, in case of the unlikely event they are reading this!
You have included a range of music traditions, including old styles and new composition. What does it bring to Requiem to draw from such a broad palette of styles?
The main ancient musical style is that of simple, unadorned chant. The requiem begins and ends with fragments of traditional Gregorian chant, and the Agnus Dei similarly references forms of solo chant as well. These elements are juxtaposed or incorporated into my own style, which includes extended vocal techniques to create atmosphere and also some unusual instrumental colours.
This is all part of the idea of this requiem being a conversation of narratives, and themes found both in the Latin Mass for the Dead and the observances of the poets I’ve chosen.
One of the collaborations in this requiem was with Yuin composer Brenda Gifford. How did this collaboration come about, and what did it teach you after so many years of composing this work?
As a member of staff at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, I have the great honour of hearing the creative works of many students. I heard Brenda give a presentation of some of her work, including a fabulous piece written in collaboration with Sydney Dance Company, and thought it would be great for the choir to commission Brenda a new piece — and this would work really well to further explore some of the themes in the requiem, and on the idea of acknowledging Country more generally.
I discussed the idea with Sam Allchurch, the choir’s artistic director, and he agreed it was an important idea. It’s great to see the choir will be performing this piece in multiple programs.
Russell Mills, who commissioned the work, and music educator Richard Gill, to whom you dedicate the work, have passed away before having heard it performed for the first time. In what way can your requiem teach us about grief, loss, and hope?
I think everyone will take away something different from this requiem. There are many messages contemplating grief and loss, both the spiritual and the earth-bound.
The final movement sets the beautiful Emily Dickinson poem Hope is the thing with feathers, alongside the In Paradisum text which talks of a chorus of angels leading away the soul. The message is one of resilience; that in death there is rest, and solace that life goes on through the storm. A pretty apt message in the current climate I think!
As you come to the premiere of Requiem, you have worked with and involved so many members of Australia’s creative community. How would you reflect on the relationships you have built through the creation of this music?
What a privilege it is as a composer to collaborate with the creative community.
There is something intense about working with musicians, though, on a piece of music that seems to create a depth of connection that can’t help but be personal. Every time I run across members in orchestras or choirs who have been a part of that process, that connection is somehow rekindled. That’s really special, I think.
What do you hope will go through the minds of listeners in the City Recital Hall?
I welcome their own thoughts and encourage listeners to explore the way different ideas bounce off each other. But I’ll have to wait until the last bar is performed to find out whether the audience decides to clap or not!
Do you have any parting words before the big event?
A new requiem is a bit like an eclipse. They don’t happen that often! In which case, grab a ticket and be a part of the experience! I hope to see you there at City Recital Hall!
See Paul Stanhope: A New Requiem this 13 March, with Sydney Chamber Choir performing at at City Recital Hall.
Images supplied.
