Vespers, not Requiem, of the Blessed Earth

 

John Luther Adams arriving in Philadelphia by train 

John Luther Adams, Praying for the Earth in Music

The composer has long been inspired by nature without sending an explicit political message. But his latest work takes on a newly urgent tone.

On Thursday and Friday of this week a 50 minute orchestral musical work called Vespers of the Blessed Earth  by John Luther Adams premiered in Philadelphia and New York City. Before being captured by the New York Times headline I had never heard of Adams who began as a rock drummer influenced by Frank Zappa, among others. For some time now 70-year-old composer has been creating arresting music influenced by the natural world and a strong sense of place. He lived and composed in Alaska for year and now lives in New Mexico, a state whose landscape I find deeply spiritual. Adam's desire is "to explore the territory of sonic geography" which is a cool phrase I don't really understand, but would like to. He won a Pulitzer Prize for Music a decade ago and a Grammy in 2014. 

I am intrigued by the theme of this latest work and the use of religious vocabulary, words such as "canticles" and "vespers." In the Times article Adams says “Music for me is a kind of spiritual discipline; it’s as close to religion as I get. It’s a way of being in touch with mysteries larger, deeper, older than I can fathom".  

I really don't know if I would appreciate Adams' music, although I plan to search it out. I do know that simply reading about him and what he has to say touches my spirit. It seems that he is brutally honest about what humans are doing to the planet, yet remains hopeful. He has been inspired by young people such as Greta Thunberg and even chose to take the train from New Mexico to the premiers of his latest work, rather than fly. 

Here are a couple more paragraphs from the thoughtful article by David Allen in the New York Times: 

But the “Vespers” are prayers, not a requiem. Even if Adams said that this score is one of the saddest and most austere that he has composed, it still celebrates the splendor of the enduring Earth, and is more melodic than some of his music has been. “If ‘Ocean’ and ‘Desert’ are Brucknerian,” he suggested, “this is almost Mozartean.” 

That dynamic of beauty and grief going hand in hand is especially apparent in “Night Shining Clouds,” a movement for strings alone that depicts cloud structures whose chemistry means that they are “getting more beautiful because we’re polluting the Earth more.”