Ponderings of Solitude
This three-movement work for solo euphonium was inspired by three poems: “The Loneliness One dare not sound” by Emily Dickinson, “Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe, and “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” by William Wordsworth. The three poems take unique perspectives on the mental effects of being by oneself.
Writing solo music for a monophonic instrument was an immense challenge. It’s not exactly surprising, but it is remarkable how writing for a one instrument can at times be much more challenging than writing for a large ensemble. Every decision you make in solo music is crucial, whereas there’s some more freedom (I hesitate to say “room for error,” but I just did) with an orchestra. Of course, this piece had to be written for a solo instrument, being a collection of musings on loneliness. And what better instrument than the euphonium, one of the least-known instruments in western music? And what better euphonist to play a piece about loneliness than Baxley?
That’s a joke, of course (though Baxley did make it himself several times…). Baxley not only has many friends who love him dearly, he also takes on every challenge presented to him. While that has little to do with the topic of loneliness, it was essential to the process of bringing this music to life. When I gave him the music for Ponderings of Solitude, it was clear to both of us I did not have much experience writing solo music, and especially not for the euphonium. I had done a good bit of research, and had discussed with Baxley not only the instrument’s abilities and limitations, but also his own. I then followed up those conversations by pushing every boundary that was set. But Baxley didn’t back down. He took my nonsensical scribbles and vaguely musical gestures and turned them into something beautiful.
from Baxley Roberts, euphonist:
This piece was a true challenge to perform. It utilized nearly my entire four and a half octave range. Any performer tackling this piece must have great fluidity navigating through the different registers of the euphonium. When preparing this piece, I spent some time studying and meditating on the poems that each movement is based on. I found it difficult to isolate each movement’s character and how they related to being alone. I don’t believe that this process is the same for any two musicians, as everyone has different perspectives on what being alone means. The poems where a key element in this process for me to figure out how it related to me at this point in my life experience. It was a true joy and worthy challenge of my musicianship to perform this piece. Smith did a wonderful job researching the capabilities of the euphonium and utilizing its versatility in his writing. I am truly grateful for the opportunity to collaborate on this work.
The first movement, One dare not sound, dwells on the terror of being alone. Dickinson speaks of a loneliness so profound and terrifying that one can hardly face it. It becomes nearly impossible for the individual to confront due to “the Horror not to be surveyed—”.
There have been many times in the last few years when I’ve been horrified of the concept of being alone. I spent a long time doing everything I could to avoid my deepest thoughts. This, believe it or not, was counter-productive, and only reinforced my own fear of myself and my core, which was becoming progressively darker and more difficult to access.
This movement is a sort of a cry for help, though I wouldn’t have identified it as such at the time. The gestures and figures, the descending leitmotif of two whole steps and a half step, and the sporadic dynamics are all the agonized cries of someone looking for a way out of his loneliness.
The Loneliness One dare not sound—
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size—
The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see—
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny—
The Horror not to be surveyed—
But skirted in the Dark—
With Consciousness suspended—
And Being under Lock—
I fear me this—is Loneliness—
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate—or seal—
If you’d like to purchase the score and/or audio for Ponderings of Solitude, please contact me for rates.
Poe’s outlook dwells instead on the idiosyncrasy of his childhood. “From childhood’s hour, I have not been as others were—I have not seen as others saw….” Even in his observation of some of the beauties of the world around him, he is haunted by his own disparity. “...the cloud that took the form (when the rest of Heaven was blue) of a demon in my view.”
From childhood’s hour is the least musically abstract of the three movements, and for good reason. I think this is a common sentiment, but I resonate with a good deal of Poe’s reflection on his eccentricity; I’ve often felt that I simply experienced life differently than most people around me. But that didn’t always haunt me—sometimes it brought me a sad sort of comfort.
This movement, rather than a cry for help, is more of a contented settling into my peculiarity. It’s not until the last few lines of the poem (and the last few measures of the music) that things take a decidedly dark turn. The theme that has been stated a couple of times in the movement (with slight variation) is repeated, but in a minor mode, as the comfort I’ve found suddenly becomes twisted and bizarre. In the final two measures, the work’s leitmotif returns for the first time, symbolizing the uneasiness of my condition which which I’d grown so comfortable.
From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—
If you’d like to purchase the score and/or audio for Ponderings of Solitude, please contact me for rates.
The final movement, inspired by Wordsworth’s poem, takes a much more lighthearted approach to solitude, emphasizing the fact that being alone allows for one to be more observant of the beauty all around. “A host of golden daffodils; beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”
I wanted to start this movement with a dance-like tone, to starkly contrast it from the previous two. Coming out of the terror, despair, and foolish comfort of the first two movements, I wandered as a cloud was an experiment in mentally and emotionally investing in the discovery—both of self and surroundings—that can come from solitude. (I invested fully in this concept by going on a (mostly) solo cross-country road trip this summer, and since have considered musically expanding on this idea even further.)
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
If you’d like to purchase the score and/or audio for Ponderings of Solitude, please contact me for rates.