Philía

Philía translates into English as brotherhood or comradeship, and is one of the four kinds of love recognized in the ancient Greek language, and discussed by Aristotle in his Nicomachean Ethics. This album celebrates two embodiments of philía: the brotherhood of musicians learning and playing music together, and the brotherhood of soldiers fighting together for freedom.

The first piece, Chordophilía, which literally translates as “brotherhood of strings,” was written for two friends of mine, violinist Anthony Bracewell, and cellist Coleman Itzkoff. Anthony and Coleman have been friends since their teen years, where they got to know each other as students at Rice University. The years of working together have enhanced their ability to anticipate one another, which is palpable in their performance. Their friendship and mutual respect also comes through in the performance, as they so clearly delight in playing together.

Duets are a special genre to begin with. They demand that one focus completely on the other, which makes possible a uniquely wide dynamic range.  When a duet is performed by players who have known each other for years, that range becomes even wider. To see what I mean, take a look at the video of the performance that we have posted on this page.

Chordophilía consists of four movements:  I. Crooked World, II. Vertigo Dream, III. Martyrdom, and IV. Free to Play. The first movement adapts a melody that I wrote for the aria, Easy for Him, from the opera, Gethsemane.  The second movement is a vertiginous dream sequence. The third movement is an adaptation of the song, What Will I Say? from the album, Songs from the Lost and Found. The final movement envisions friends at play, a triumph over all the crookedness, confusion, and suffering that precede it.

The Concerto Grosso Laïko is a tone poem that celebrates the resilience and indomitable spirit of common people, inspired by the Greek Revolutionary experience. The Concerto Grosso Laïko is divided into three movements –Tripolitsa, Mesolongi, and Navarino – which refer to three notable locations of the Revolutionary War’s struggle: an early major victory, a city’s siege and massacre, and the War’s final victorious episode.

In his landmark book, The Greek Revolution: 1821 and the Making of Modern Europe, Mark Mazower writes that “the revolution of 1821 had succeeded because beyond the epic and oft-celebrated moments of individual bravery and self-sacrifice, it was fundamentally a story of social endurance in the face of systemic upheaval. It was not so much their victories that gave the Greeks independence as it was their refusal to accept defeat.”  Enlightenment ideas of freedom, or simply nationalism, may have motivated some of the Greeks’ leaders to take up arms, but it was common peoples’ willingness to sacrifice until victory was achieved that produced the Revolution’s success. That social commitment to sacrifice was not grounded primarily in abstract ideas of polity or culture, but rather in concrete and personal connections among individuals – the philía of brotherhood/comradeship on and off the battlefield that made individuals willing to sacrifice.  Concerto Grosso Laïko is all about that aspect of philía.

When I conceived the piece, I was unsure whether to produce it with a full symphony orchestra or a chamber orchestra. Both have appeal, but I chose the latter for two reasons. First, I am attracted to the transparency and individuality of expression that comes from assigning one instrument to each voice. Second, as in Chordophilía, I wanted to emphasize the relationships between individual performers (the philía) and the unique drama that arises from the duets and trios and quartets that occur within each of the movements, which the chamber structure makes possible.

We were thrilled when Maestro Mark Shapiro agreed to conduct the piece, and working with him was a delightful and instructive collaboration for the Pano Hora Ensemble, and for me personally. We all hope that this is the beginning of many more such collaborations.

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