Last Sunday the choir which meets at my house for a weekly practice recorded a piece I recently composed.
I've always had an interest in writing music but alas, my hazy grasp on the space-time continuum insinuates itself into every possible scenario, including the one wherein music has the audacity to demand not only a penchant for melody but the ability to measure and divide notes in an orderly fashion.
Sorry--will someone please turn off the lights?--those last eight words just gave me a raging headache.
At any rate, over the years I've made up many melodies but when it came time to commit them to paper, I'd get so frustrated with the meter my ensuing fits made Beethoven look like an altar boy.
Enter Finale. It's a computer program many composers use to write music, which I purchased and figured out how to use all by myself.
Perhaps you're not as impressed with this claim as I clearly am. Would it help you to know in our marriage I'm the girl who can bring down a caribou using nothing but her bare hands, while my husband is the guy who knows how to program our house to talk? Yes, it's true. It's very much like medieval girl meets boy from the future around here, so anytime I demonstrate any degree of facility with anything more modern than a water pump, it actually shocks my husband to the point he's willing to accept the possiblity of witchcraft.
For my part, I never know if the house is going to let me in or not.
Back to Finale: it certainly doesn't do the work for the composer, but it helped me stay within the boundaries of the meter and see more readily how to fix problems as they occurred.
At any rate, here is the song. It's a first take recording (on my iPhone, franchement), completely unplugged, but I assure you the performance was very moving in person.
And yes, I'm still accepting applications for the choir. I would love for you to join! The only prerequisites are you must protest you have no idea how to sing, plus affirm your adoration of sticky buns.
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psalm (click here for audio)
Redeem me, Lord, in thy mercy,
Do not forget the troubles of my heart,
For unto thee, I lift my spirit,
Please keep me close, I cannot bear to part.
Remember, Lord, thy tender loving kindness,
Distill it now as in the days of old,
Come back for me when from thy paths I wander,
Please find me, Lord, and bring me to thy fold.
Oh, leave me not to find my way alone, Lord,
The path is dark, and shadows linger still,
Hide not thy face, turn not away from me, Lord,
Wilt thou with hope, my lonely spirit fill?
Help me to see myself through thine eyes,
Hear thou my voice and answer when I call,
Strengthen my heart and keep me from temptation,
From thine esteem please never let me fall.
Protect me, Lord, and bind my troubled spirit,
Hold me close and soothe my weary soul,
May I find rest in thee for all my sorrows,
And may thy love restore and make me whole.
Redeem me, Lord, in thy mercy.
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When we came home from church later that day, I paused to contemplate the languid suspension of these lemons (from our tree!) until my zen moment was interrupted by two girls fighting.
What was the fight about?
To this day I'm not sure, and if I tried to explain it to you the last three neurons holding my brain together would fizzle and burst.
But that didn't prevent my girls from vociferously (each, at the same time) laying out the details of the dispute: the intricacies of blame, the betrayals, the mean looks, the snippy comments...until finally I channeled my inner King Solomon and told them to stop or I'd solve matters Old Testament style.
As it was, I made them hug it out.
Of course they wanted nothing to do with each other.
But they took one look at the look on my face.
And did it.
