The EB100 project I am proudest of is Suzie LeBlanc’s CD of
settings of Bishop poems by Canadian composers, “I am in need of music.”
Bringing poetry and music together is something of which I deeply approve,
though it does not happen as often as it could and should. But a new CD
launched in Liverpool, England, on 18 May,
Estuary, is a stirring merge of poetry,
music, reading and singing. I wrote a post about Seán Street and this exciting project in
late April:
http://elizabethbishopcentenary.blogspot.ca/2017/04/sean-street-and-neil-campbell-estuary.html
. Now that I have listened to the CD several times, I want to write a response.
I am not a musician and know little about the compositional aspects of music. I
respond to it emotionally, but I won’t let that stop me.
(Seán Street reading at the launch. Photo by Adrian Wharton.)
Estuary: a place where realms meet and merge — salt and
fresh water, land and air, light and night; a place where there is changing
weather because of the convergence of so many elements. A poem is an estuary.
So, this title is provocative and right.
The more I listened to the ebb and flow, the surfacings and
submergings between the poems and the music, the words spoken and the words
sung, the deeper I fell into this haunting, haunted world, an inter-space both
clearly itself and utterly mysterious. As the first poem, “Change,” says,
“Sound shows us.” Here that sound is first the clear, cadenced voice of the
poet, then the liquid rhythms of the guitar, then the warm texture of the
singer’s voice.
Many of the tracks have Seán reading his highly tangible,
sensory poems, an unfolding that often happens with the pulse of music
surrounding (above, below, from within) the words. How did I respond to these
dialogues? I felt always calm and clear-headed, pulled by a quiet surety, a
knowing of place and time.
Another track, “Shipping Forecast,” as well as several
others, carry a punctuation of the kinds of marine weather radio reports that I
remember hearing on CBC Radio when I was a child. These are no more. The
through-line of these highly specific and elemental collections of practical
yet poetic words, a hypnotic repetitiveness built in, is both deeply unsettling
and profoundly comforting. Perhaps the
definition of a good poem.
Seán collaborates with musician and composer Neil Campbell,
whose guitar opens the first track, and jazz singer Perri Alleyne-Hughes.
Perri’s voice is first heard in “Fog Redux,” a distant chanting of a single
word: “island,” cutting through a percussive through-line and a repeating sigh
that must be a human voice — or is it? — as another forecast surfaces out of
the soundscape. The complexity is so beautifully handled, seamlessly flowing,
it feels utterly of a piece.
Words and weather. Words as weather. Words are weather.
I could write about each track because there are pleasures
and hauntings in each one. I will close with two late tracks: “Sestina” and
“Sestina (Part 2).” I choose “Sestina” because it is a poem inspired by Sable Island
and Halifax, N.S., and the 1917 Halifax Explosion. It is one
of the longest poems and has a tight, formal structure, with six end words
repeating. It is filled with questions asked and not asked, the tensions are
palpable, the compassion present. The reading is followed by a marvellous
setting of the six end words of the poem, only the end words. Each word has its
own note, each one sung softly, distinctly at first, then slowly the words, the notes form an ever-changing, Gregorian-chant-like song that is meditative
and hypnotizing, intensifying, like watching a river flowing into the ocean: the same and
never the same.
(Neil Campbell and Perri Alleyne-Hughes performing
at the launch. Photo by Adrian Wharton.)
Each time a track faded to its own echoes, then into
silence, I felt at peace. As “Pier Head” offers, “Departing lights shape
darkness,” even as they disappear into the fog. The mind holds all sensation
in memory.
This elegant collaboration has added something materially
and spiritually good to this troubled world.
On Thursday, 18 May, Seán and his colleagues launched
Estuary with a multi-media performance in Liverpool. I wish I could have been there!
Seán kindly sent me a few photos from what looks like a memorable event, which
he has kindly said I can share. The photographs were taken by Adrian Wharton.
(Rachel Sweeney performing at the launch,
with video projection. Photograph by Adrian Wharton.)