02 July 2021

A Northumbrian Anthem for orchestra

 

You may be getting the feeling that I am inordinately proud of A Northumbrian Anthem. If so, you would be slightly off the mark, but it would be my fault. You have seen me publish it in four guises, no less, roughly at yearly intervals. Let me clarify: my insistence on sharing one version after another of this ditty is a sign not of pride, but of the need to ensure that it is put to the service it was designed for: to bridge a chasm, to promote togetherness, to spread love.

 

The piece is, of course, a paean to the part of the world I called home for the longest and most meaningful stretch of my life, and to the handful of people with whom I shared it. Newcastle upon Tyne and, more specially, rural Northumberland are places where I took the fundamental decisions that signal definitive commitment. I nailed my colours to the mast in a way that seemed irreversible. To be forcibly uprooted from that settled configuration was more traumatic than I can describe. A situation of enforced separation supervened and it was then that I wrote A Northumbrian Anthem.

 

As I have explained before, I composed it to a commission which came with specific requirements demanding simplicity, accessibility and, of course, an anthemic character. This, added to the challenge of writing for solo organ, would have made for a testing brief at the best of times. The additional ingredient that I was facing a personal cataclysm gives the resulting piece, in my own perception at least, the quality of a testimony. The fact that the commissioners decided that they did not want my piece for the designated event after all does, in retrospect, fit rather well with the moment’s drama. I hear that they chose to use a composition by John Treherne instead.

 

To write the original organ version, I studied organ scores and took advice from a professional organist. To arrange it for brass band, I had no one to ask, so I studied what brass-band scores I could lay hands on. In both cases I was in unfamiliar territory. Writing for the orchestra is a different matter; I have been doing that since the age of seventeen, by which time I had been working as a player in an orchestra for over a year. I won’t waste everybody’s time counting how many orchestral pieces and arrangements I have written. Suffice it to say that with the orchestra I feel on home ground. Although it did take the best part of a week, it would be fair to say that the orchestration of A Northumbrian Anthem wrote itself. The music knew where to go, what orchestral spaces to occupy. It was easy to feel that the orchestra is where the piece belongs.

 

To address the issue I started with: do I feel proud of A Northumbrian Anthem? Pride is not the word, but the piece is enormously special to me. Although I wrote it away from the Northeast of England (or because of that?) all the circumstances around its composition invest it with the quality of a summation of everything I did and experienced in the region. The resulting piece moves me, which is more than I can say of most of my music. The Northumbrianness of it stirs me. Define Northumbrianness? I can’t. In my time there I was regularly exposed to traditional music of the area, but I cannot objectively say that my piece has any audible traces of any of that. What it probably does share with those splendid tunes is the love, that depth of feeling that is most quotably expressed in Wilfrid Wilson Gibson’s famed peroration:

 

God bring me to Northumberland, the land where I was born.

 

In some important respects, I was born there, too. I desperately yearn for the day when I can again see the landscape I love and I can again be with the people I love. I know that there is no true or fair reason why that should not be possible. If anything in these deranged times still makes any sense, I am not alone in knowing that.

 

I cannot promise that this will be the end of the series. I have in mind versions for choir and for choir and organ, and maybe more after that. I feel a need to fill the space with versions that will make this music accessible to as many as possible of those who love Northumberland and the Northeast of England, and of those who share with me the belief that love, truth, loyalty and respect (including self-respect) are values worth living for and, if necessary, worth dying for.  

 

 

 

 

 

12 June 2021

On Diary of Exile

Those who were in the habit of following my blog Diary of Exile will have been either disappointed or relieved to find that it has been withdrawn from public access. It has not been closed or deleted; it has been switched from “public” to “invitation-only”. I have volunteered invitations to a few key people. Others can request access by emailing agustin@agustinfernandez.com.

 

The paucity of requests received so far, in contrast with the unsettlingly high readership stats Diary of Exile was returning before the switch, suggests a number of explanations, any of which I am happy with. The most likely is that the majority of erstwhile readers used to come to the blog out of simple curiosity, and that once the blog was out of easy reach they directed their interest elsewhere. I know there were some who were genuinely concerned about my case; I know that because they contacted me through the blog’s private-comment facility. I can only conjecture that these readers may have had second thoughts about sending me a request lest their contact or their access, once given, may become known to others. I doubt whether reputable blogging platforms would allow that kind of snooping, but I would understand that concern.

 

I am also aware of another contingent of readers, those who read hastily and selectively to extract passages they can use to further undermine my position. Some of them even egged me on to write more of the kind of thing, I was later to learn, they wanted me to say to fit the story they were wanting to tell. I am glad I resisted their urgings, even though, without the need for them, I did unwittingly give them some material to twist and distort. Whatever is lost by foregoing a platform on which to bring my plight to public attention, much is gained by not exposing myself to that kind of tendentious prurience.

 

In any case, Diary of Exile is not gone for good. It is up and running, and in due course I may make it public again. For the moment, a more targeted and discreet approach is called for. My battle is far from over.


 
Site Meter