Gillian Whitehead: CicadasText: Rachel Bush1. If she were here she would say the cicadas, the cicadas and rest her arms on the frame with the window folded and pushed aside and she would listen, just that, doing nothing but noting, while high tide on a summer night holds her in its sea, how cicada cicada cicada out of the ground after seven white years tight in the crush of earth have crawled to the light, bust out to beat and drum leg to leg, to say themselves over and over. 2. There was just a woman and unnumbered innumerable insects One night In that short season when it must all be said, or never, or never, or never. “When I found Rachel Bush's substantial poem 'Cicadas' in her recent collection 'Nice Pretty Things', published by VUW Press, I decided that two stanzas from it were exactly what I wanted for this piece for Helen and Pepe. I've always loved the sounds of cicadas, redolent of Northland summers, and it's one of the iconic sounds I most miss living in the south. 'Cicadas' draws on various twentieth century harp techniques, including those of Salzedo and the setting focuses on the life cycle of the cicada and its mesmeric song.” Gillian Whitehead grew up in Whangarei and, after spending 15 years as a free-lance composer in Europe and 15 years teaching at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, now lives on the Otago peninsula. She has written for diverse forces - opera, orchestra, ensemble, choral vocal and solo. A number of pieces involve improvisation, and recent works have frequently involved taonga pūoro ‘Cicadas’ is printed here with permission from the writer. |
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