Melanie Sparrow, who sings alto in the GSA Choir, writes about her experience of rehearsing Margaret’s Moon – composed by Ailie Robertson, with lyrics by Scots Makar, Jackie Kay – the first new work rehearsed by the ensemble for Composeher.
There’s something about music, and about poetry, that can reach out and speak to each of us directly, helping us reconnect to feelings and emotions that lie quietly, or not so quietly, inside – which can be cathartic. And the beauty is that those emotions tend to be universal; so when we read a poem or listen to a piece of music – and feel that emotional pull – we are actually participating in a kind of shared experience which begins with the author or composer’s personal feeling and inspiration, but now reaches out to encompass each person who interacts with it.
If that is the case with music and poetry separately, then it can be even more powerful when the two come together, as is the case with Margaret’s Moon, originally a poem by Scots Makar, Jackie Kay, and now set to music by composer and harpist, Ailie Robertson.
In 2020 – a year in which we have all been thrown headlong into a period of great uncertainty – in both an individual and collective sense – it is perhaps more important than ever to find ways to connect, or reconnect, with those universal shared experiences and emotions of anxiety, fear, frustration, hope, love and grief. When lockdown started it surprised me that I struggled with concentration when reading, something I normally enjoyed and found relaxing and an escape. Likewise, TV could only hold my attention for so long. Like so many others affected by the insecurity and strangeness of the new world we all found ourselves living in, I found myself looking for new sources of comfort and connection.
I studied the piano when I was younger and sang in a choir while at junior school and, whilst I remember enjoying both, in later years I never quite left behind the feeling that classical music was something that I ‘ought’ to listen to but – aside from attending the very occasional concert – never quite found time for. It certainly wasn’t something I reached for, or felt like I needed. But, through a combination of joining the GSA Choir in late 2019 and the unusual events that have followed us into this year, I’ve found a growing enthusiasm and love for classical music (both older and contemporary) – maybe because it reaches and expresses that something inside all of us that can’t always readily find expression or release.
The choir, in particular, has been something of a lifeline at this time. It’s funny remembering how our early Zoom rehearsals, when lockdown started, seemed so alien and awkward for me, not being confident with the technology or set up. But now I look forward to our sessions as an opportunity to see friendly faces, and to connect with our group through our shared love of music and singing; even if, for now, we can only hear the sounds of our own voices in our living rooms, the music itself brings us together for a shared experience.
I was initially surprised at how my own personal experiences of grief and loss and love surfaced when we started learning this new piece. The ‘complicated grief’ Jackie herself has described, expressed in the words of the poem, relates to the death of her birth mother from her perspective as someone who was adopted. It is clearly a very personal subject, but Jackie’s words still manage to express those emotions in a very universal and generous way, allowing each of us to feel and connect with them. To quote Ailie’s recent blog about her own creative process and connection with Jackie’s poem, ‘I think there is…something potentially very powerful about performing such an individual text with such a large number of people. In some ways, perhaps, it acknowledges that in the moments when we feel most alone, we never truly are.’
Ailie’s music, and her setting of the words of the poem in the context of a work meant to be sung together as group, makes the most of its poignancy, skillfully expressing both the complexity and the beauty of those emotions. Making full use of the possibilities of each of voice part within the choir, we are taken on a journey through haunting melodies, the various sections moving back and forth between dissonance and harmony. Towards the conclusion of the work the name ‘Margaret’ is repeated; at first almost as a plaintive refrain, but eventually being transformed by the underlying harmony, resulting in an ending that is ultimately hopeful and uplifting.