…to me from the earth… was commissioned by CAM Raleigh in collaboration with New Music Raleigh and North Carolina Symphony for performance in artist Thomas Sayre’s exhibition “White Gold.” “White Gold” refers to the cotton industry in the American South and the artist’s respect and reverence for the land and the labor from which the cotton grows. …to me from the earth…was premiered by the North Carolina Symphony and New Music Raleigh with Soprano Aundi Marie Moore in four performances in November, 2016.

Political activist and writer Grayson Haver Currin describes the premiere performance as “an absorbing piece of slow-moving music that doubles as site-specific work and triples as political performance art.” Currin continues, “Sparr composed the thirty-one-minute …to me from the earth… after several visits with Sayre, where he would see early models of the installation and ask the artist about his upbringing and inspiration, his motivation and his memories.

The study shows. Like Sayre’s own pieces, which show the toil behind their production in every smear of tar or every heavy chunk of concrete, …to me from earth… is physical and slightly confrontational. Especially near the start, the tones are snarling, with abrasive slashes of violin digging into a sinister drone. At various points throughout, the musicians whisper the Soprano’s words beneath her, suggesting a platform of ghosts with pain and persecution that’s needed an outlet for centuries.”

The work is dedicated to the progress and improvement of the human condition.

I. Introduction (Blue Smoke Rising)
My red pickup choked on burnt oil
as I drove down Highway 99.
In wind-tattered garbage bags
I had packed my whole life:
two pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts,
an a pair of work boots.
My red pickup choked on burnt oil,
and through the blue smoke rising from under the hood,
I saw almond orchards, plums,
and raisins spread out on paper trays,
and acres of Mendota cotton my mother picked as a child.

II. Furrow (Dust That Filled the Air)
My mother crawled through the furrows
and plucked cotton balls that filled
the burlap sack she dragged,
shoulder-slung, through dried-up bolls, 
husks, weevils, dirt clods,
and dust that filled the air with thirst.

III. Field (Told by the Setting Sun)
But when she grew tired,
she slept on her mom’s burlap,
stuffed thick as a mattress,
and Grandma dragged her over the land
where time was told by the setting sun. . . .

IV. Soliloquy: Earth Casting (To Me From the Earth) & Barn (Whispered its Soft Curses)
History cried out to me from the earth, 
in the scream of starling flight, 
and pounded at the hulls of seeds to be set free. 
History licked the asphalt with rubber
sighed in the windows of abandoned barns, 
slumped in the wind-blasted palms, groaned in the heat, and whispered its soft curses.

V. Conclusion (Mi Historia)
I wanted my own history—not the Earth’s (…mi historia)
nor the history of blood, nor of memory (…mi historia)
and not the job founded for me (…mi historia)

...to me from the earth... (live recording at CAM Raleigh)

2. ...to me from the earth... (live recording)

The earth is my witness

I. Introduction (Blue Smoke Rising)
My red pickup choked on burnt oil
as I drove down Highway 99.
In wind-tattered garbage bags
I had packed my whole life:
two pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts,
an a pair of work boots.
My red pickup choked on burnt oil,
and through the blue smoke rising from under the hood,
I saw almond orchards, plums,
and raisins spread out on paper trays,
and acres of Mendota cotton my mother picked as a child.

1. ...to me from the earth... (live recording)

II. Furrow (Dust That Filled the Air)
My mother crawled through the furrows
and plucked cotton balls that filled
the burlap sack she dragged,
shoulder-slung, through dried-up bolls, 
husks, weevils, dirt clods,
and dust that filled the air with thirst.

3. ...to me from the earth... (live recording)

4. ...to me from the earth... (live recording)

III. Field (Told by the Setting Sun)
But when she grew tired,
she slept on her mom’s burlap,
stuffed thick as a mattress,
and Grandma dragged her over the land
where time was told by the setting sun. . . .

5. ...to me from the earth... (live recording)

IV. Soliloquy: Earth Casting (To Me From the Earth) & Barn (Whispered its Soft Curses)
History cried out to me from the earth, 
in the scream of starling flight, 
and pounded at the hulls of seeds to be set free. 
History licked the asphalt with rubber
sighed in the windows of abandoned barns, 
slumped in the wind-blasted palms, groaned in the heat, and whispered its soft curses.

V. Conclusion (Mi Historia)
I wanted my own history—not the Earth’s (…mi historia)
nor the history of blood, nor of memory (…mi historia)
and not the job founded for me (…mi historia)

...to me from the earth... (live recording at CAM Raleigh)

D. J. Sparr