For MingMing. A flickering candle, bearing light, warmth, and prayers raised in gratitude.

Jennifer Slowik, oboe
David McMullin, composer
recorded December 13, 2021

Votive

Patrick Mason, baritone
Curtis Macomber, violin
William Anderson, guitar
David McMullin, composer

Live recording of premiere performance
November 9, 1999
Washington Square Contemporary Music Society
Merkin Hall, New York

Li Bai Songs, for baritone voice, violin, & guitar, are settings, in Mandarin Chinese, of Tang Dynasty poetry by Li Bai (701-762). They are dedicated to Dr. Su Yu Xu and Dr. Pei Chen Ning, who introduced me to the poetry and revealed for me its sound and meaning. 

Li Bai, also known as Li Po, is one of the most renowned poets of the Tang dynasty, which is widely considered the golden age Chinese poetry. He briefly managed to hold a position in the imperial academy, but because of his rebellious temperament and his notorious drinking habits, he was not well suited to life at court. He was twice forced into exile, and spent most of his adult life wandering the country, writing poetry, and drinking. Chinese musicians have sung Li Bai’s poems for twelve centuries; Western composers who have worked with translations of them include Harry Partch, Charles Wuorinen, Anton Webern, and Gustav Mahler, among others.

English translation of texts:

I.

Have you not seen how the Yellow River, which flows from heaven
And hurries toward the sea, never turns back?
Have you not seen how at the bright mirrors of high halls,
men mourn their white hairs,
At dawn black silk, by evening changed to snow?
While there is pleasure in life, enjoy it,
And never let your gold cup face the moon empty!
Heaven gave me my talents, they shall be used;
A thousand in gold scattered and gone will all come back again.

II.

Moonlight in front of the bed,
Or is it frost on the ground?
I raise my head and look at the bright moon,
Lower my head and think of my homeland.

III.

Where Heaven’s Gate Mountain ends, the Chu River begins,
Emerald water flows east and returns north.
The two banks’ blue-green peaks face each other,
A single sail comes, in sunlight.

IV.

Among the flowers, a bottle of wine,
I drink alone, without loved ones.
Lifting my cup, I toast the bright moon.
Facing my shadow, we are three.
But the moon does not drink,
And the shadow just follows my body.
For now, with the moon and shadow I keep company;
We should make merry while it is spring.
I sing, and the moon paces back and forth.
I dance, and the shadow jumbles in disarray.
While sober we share happiness,
Once drunk, we go our separate ways.
In a bond eternal but passionless, we travel.
We will meet far beyond the cosmos.

V.

The sun shining on Incense-Urn waterfall makes purple smoke.
From the distance I see the pouring cloth hanging in front of the mountain.
It flies, flowing straight down three thousand feet.
It could be the Silver River [Milky Way] falling through nine heavens.

VI.

From the boat going to Guangling,
The moon shines brightly over Zhengluo pavilion.
The mountains blush with floral embroidery.
The lanterns on the river flow like fireflies.

(Poem I translated by A.C. Graham, poems II-VI translated by P.C. Ning.)

Li Bai Songs VI

Li Bai Songs V

Li Bai Songs IV

Li Bai Songs III

Li Bai Songs II

Patrick Mason, baritone; Curtis Macomber, violin; William Anderson, guitar
David McMullin, composer

Live recording of premiere performance, November 9, 1999
Washington Square Contemporary Music Society
Merkin Hall, New York

Li Bai Songs, for baritone voice, violin, & guitar, are settings, in Mandarin Chinese, of Tang Dynasty poetry by Li Bai (701-762). They are dedicated to Dr. Su Yu Xu and Dr. Pei Chen Ning, who introduced me to the poetry and revealed for me its sound and meaning. 

Li Bai, also known as Li Po, is one of the most renowned poets of the Tang dynasty, which is widely considered a golden age Chinese poetry. He briefly managed to hold a position in the imperial academy, but because of his rebellious temperament and notorious drinking habits, he was not well suited to life at court. He was twice forced into exile, and spent most of his adult life wandering the country, writing poetry, and drinking. Chinese musicians have sung Li Bai’s poems for twelve centuries; Western composers who have worked with translations of them include Harry Partch, Charles Wuorinen, Anton Webern, and Gustav Mahler, among others.

English translation of texts:

I.

Have you not seen how the Yellow River, which flows from heaven
And hurries toward the sea, never turns back?
Have you not seen how at the bright mirrors of high halls,
men mourn their white hairs,
At dawn black silk, by evening changed to snow?
While there is pleasure in life, enjoy it,
And never let your gold cup face the moon empty!
Heaven gave me my talents, they shall be used;
A thousand in gold scattered and gone will all come back again.

II.

Moonlight in front of the bed,
Or is it frost on the ground?
I raise my head and look at the bright moon,
Lower my head and think of my homeland.

III.

Where Heaven’s Gate Mountain ends, the Chu River begins,
Emerald water flows east and returns north.
The two banks’ blue-green peaks face each other,
A single sail comes, in sunlight.

IV.

Among the flowers, a bottle of wine,
I drink alone, without loved ones.
Lifting my cup, I toast the bright moon.
Facing my shadow, we are three.
But the moon does not drink,
And the shadow just follows my body.
For now, with the moon and shadow I keep company;
We should make merry while it is spring.
I sing, and the moon paces back and forth.
I dance, and the shadow jumbles in disarray.
While sober we share happiness,
Once drunk, we go our separate ways.
In a bond eternal but passionless, we travel.
We will meet far beyond the cosmos.

V.

The sun shining on Incense-Urn waterfall makes purple smoke.
From the distance I see the pouring cloth hanging in front of the mountain.
It flies, flowing straight down three thousand feet.
It could be the Silver River [Milky Way] falling through nine heavens.

VI.

From the boat going to Guangling,
The moon shines brightly over Zhengluo pavilion.
The mountains blush with floral embroidery.
The lanterns on the river flow like fireflies.

(Poem I translated by A.C. Graham, poems II-VI translated by P.C. Ning.)

Li Bai Songs I

Mimesis ensemble: 
Jonathan Engle, flute; Mara Plotkin, clarinet; Scott Elliott, trombone; Sean Kleve, percussion; Nicholas Ong, piano; Sarah Lemons, viola; Erich Schoen-Rene, cello; David McMullin, conductor
David McMullin, composer
Live recording of US premiere (revised version), March 7, 2009, 
Peter J. Sharp Theatre at Symphony Space, 2537 Broadway, New York, NY

A Still Small Voice was composed for Ensemble MD7 of Slovenia, who premiered it on July 9, 2008 at the festival Ljubljana. 

I have always liked the softer side of the trombone, which is not the aspect of it that most people think of first. When Pavel Mihelčič invited me to write a piece for Ensemble MD7, I had the idea for a short work with a prominent role for the trombone, in which the dynamic level remains quiet throughout. The title refers to the following biblical passage, which, among many other things, says something to me about the nature of inspiration, and seemed to fit well with the particular inspiration of this piece:

"And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice." (1 Kings 19:11-12)

a still small voice

MoEns: 
(?), flute; Kamil Doležal, bass clarinet; Martin Hybler, percussion; Hanuš Barton, piano; David Danel, violin; Ludmila Sovadinová, viola; Milada Gajdová, cello; David Pavelka, contrabass; Miroslav Pudlak, conductor.
David McMullin, composer
Live recording of premiere performance, December 3, 2004, at the Martinů Hall of the Lichtenstein Palace, Prague, Czech Republic

Láska a smetí (Love & Garbage) was commissioned by Atelier 90, who presented its premiere by MoEns as part of a full concert of my works during the Prague festival Třídení (Three Days) in 2004. Max Lifchitz conducted the US premiere June 13, 2006 in New York, with North/South Consonance.

The title comes from a novel by Czech author Ivan Klima, about a writer who works temporarily, as Klima himself did, as a street sweeper in Prague. The narrator feels a kind of detachment from everything around him – he is in a way only pretending to be a street sweeper, but while he is not writing he cannot be sure he is really a writer either, and he is at the same time paralyzed by indecision in his personal life. His detachment makes him a rather hesitant participant in life, but an acutely insightful observer.

As he wanders through the streets of Prague with his cleaning crew, he relates their stories and his own, as well as his immediate impressions and reminiscences of other times and places. Klima’s treatment of time was particularly interesting to me. The narrative does not proceed chronologically, but freely covers a span of many years, moving backward and forward fluidly and staying in one time-line for only a few paragraphs or pages at once. These frequent shifts of temporal perspective come without warning or demarcation, but the transitions and juxtapositions are seamless rather than abrupt. The result is not a series of discrete scenes or vignettes, but a masterful overarching meditation that seems to be outside of time.

I have attempted in this piece to reflect both the introspective atmosphere of the novel and its feeling of suspended tension, of being always in-between. As the novel jumps around in time, the piece changes texture often, without, I hope, losing its formal cohesion or sense of direction. Intrigued by the idea of a beautiful book about picking up garbage, I tried to write beautiful music using some sounds made from garbage-type materials, such as aluminum foil, paper and cardboard. My treatment of harmony is also influenced by Klima’s comment in the novel that garbage, like everything else, can never really be destroyed, only moved around and transformed. Similarly, the dissonant intervals of the first chord continue to pervade the entire piece, but they are presented in ways that become less harsh as the piece progresses.

Láska a smetí

New York Virtuoso Singers, Harold Rosenbaum, director
David McMullin, composer
Live recording of premiere performance, May 5, 2000 in New York.

Magnificat, for unaccompanied choir, was written for the New York Virtuoso Singers in 2000. It is dedicated to the loving memory of my great-aunt Dorothy McMullin, Sister of Mercy (1904-1999), whose love of God, joy in life, kindness and good humor inspired all who knew her.

Magnificat anima mea Dominum.
Et exsultavit spiritus meus in Deo salutari meo.
Quia respexit humilitatem ancillae suae:
ecce enim ex hoc beatam me dicent omnes generationes.
Quia fecit mihi magna qui potens est: et sanctum nomen ejus.
Et misericordia ejus a progenie in progenies timentibus eum.
Fecit potentiam in brachio suo: dispersit superbos mente cordis sui.
Deposuit potentes de sede, et exaltavit humiles.
Esurientes implevit bonis: et divites dimisit inanes.
Suscepit Israel puerum suum, recordatus misericordiae suae.
Sicut locutus est ad patres nostros, Abraham et semini ejus in saecula.
Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto.
Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum.
Amen.

My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.
For He has regarded the lowly state of His maidservant;
for behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed.
For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name.
And His mercy is on those who fear Him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with His arm;
he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich He has sent away empty.
He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy,
As He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his seed forever.
Glory be to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.
Amen.

Premiered by the New York Virtuoso Singers (Harold Rosenbaum, director) May 5, 2000 in New York.
Performed by the Taipei Chamber Singers (Yun-Hung Chen, director) at ISCM-ACL World Music Days festival in Hong Kong, November 24, 2007.

Magnificat

Talujon: 
David Cossin, Michael Lipsey, Tom Kolor and Dominic Donato, percussion
David McMullin, composer
Live recording of premiere performance, April 18, 2001 at New York University

Crossings, for percussion quartet, attempts to balance the freedom of collective improvisation within a strictly controlled compositional structure. It consists of three groove sections and a series of transitional episodes, in which the tempo increases incrementally by various metric modulations. There are two ways to play the piece. In the “tight” version, the durations of each section are specified, to take advantage of various proportional structures and symmetries. In the “open” version, the players improvise in each groove until they decide to move on.

The title, “Crossings,” has several connotations. At a technical level, it suggests cross-rhythms and the tempo modulations where the music crosses from one tempo-stream to another. It also implies a journey, such as an ocean crossing, or an encounter, as in “crossing paths.” In the sacred music of the Regla de Ocha (“Santería”) religion of Cuba, which inspired my original conception of the piece, an ensemble of drummers opens each ceremony by playing “the paths” of the spirits. Each deity is addressed in succession, invited with his or her individual “path” or groove. The first invoked is always Eleguá, the spirit of the crossroads–the intersection of the divine and the physical, which is mediated by music. I am not a Regla de Ocha practitioner, however, but a Christian, and the sign of Christ is of course the cross.

This work was composed while in residence at Copland House in Cortlandt Manor, NY, as a recipient of the 2000 Aaron Copland Award, and was substantially revised in 2010. It is dedicated to the Talujon percussion quartet.

Crossings

ABAOA Quartet: David Danel & Midon Hayashi, violins; Julian Veverica, viola; Balász Adorjan, cello
David McMullin, composer
Recorded in live performance, Dec. 3, 2004, Martinů Hall of the Lichtenstein Palace, Prague, Czech Republic

Ordinary Time, for string quartet, was written without any specific image or non-musical association in mind. In retrospect, it seemed to me that the piece wrestles with some of the paradoxical aspects of our experience of time, such as the way time can at once seem to pass quickly and slowly, to press forward and to stand still. I therefore chose the title “Ordinary Time,” borrowing from the church calendar a phrase that has always struck me as ironic in its understatement. The piece is in two movements; the first is in a clearly defined fast-slow-fast form, but the second movement is unstable, constantly digressing, changing moods, and generally resisting formal control. By chance, most of the time I spent working on this piece was during the Lent, Easter, Advent, and Christmas seasons, and hardly any of it in “Ordinary Time.” This composition was premiered April 19, 2002, by the Harmonies of the World at the festival Two Days and Two Nights of New Music in Odessa, Ukraine; and at the 2002 Kazan Festival of New Music in Kazan, Tatarstan.

Ordinary Time II

Ordinary Time I

Michael Avitabile, flute & alto flute 
Hunter Bennett, clarinet & bass clarinet. 
David McMullin, composer
Recorded in live performance, October 30, 2014, Jordan Hall, Boston.

The title "Southwesterly" refers to the prevailing wind on Long Island Sound during the summer — warm and gentle, but also shifty and elusive. Southwesterly was premiered May 6, 1997 in New York, by Jayn Rosenfeld and Jean Kopperud.

Southwesterly

Adiabatic Sextet borrows its title from a meteorological term that has something to do with the interaction of hot and cold air masses on a grand scale. Associated with strong wind and dense fog, “adiabatic” also sounds rather appropriately like scat syllables.

Adiabatic Sextet

A companion piece to Prayer for MingMing, recorded by Doug Dixon in 1994.

Piano Prayer

Rhythms for Marimba & Piano is loosely based on rhythms and formal structures from Afro-Cuban rumba. I wanted to see if I could write a piece held together more by groove than by harmonic and melodic development.

Premiered December 8, 1996 in New York by Chris Nappi, marimba & Lisa Crowder, piano. (Recorded by the same performers October 10, 1997.)

Rhythms for Marimba & Piano

Prayer for MingMing, for solo piano, is a lyrical, romantic piece dedicated to my wife (who was not yet my wife at the time). I consider this my first real composition. We’ve come a long way since I wrote this, and my compositional techniques have changed and developed considerably, but my love for MingMing is stronger than ever, and in some essential way the piece still rings true. Premiered by Raja Rahman December 5, 1995 in New York.
(Recorded in live performance by Hanuš Barton, December 3, 2004 in Prague.)

Prayer for MingMing

David McMullin is a contemporary composer with a medieval mindset. He describes his approach to music as sacramental—as a tactile experience to connect us with the Divine. Each composition is a kind of prayer, designed to unlock a spirit of wonder for each listener. “Beautifully free” while possessing a “vivid internal drive” (Hudební Rozhledy, Prague), his music plays with our sense of time and silence. Listeners have described it as spell-casting, kaleidoscopic; mysterious yet purposeful, and centered in ways that make the unexpected feel inevitable.

David McMullin

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