Full moon tonight … and Diana being the Goddess of the Moon …

But first, a digression. I’ll return to the full moon and Diana, I promise!

One of my favorite films is “Enchanted April.” In a telling scene, near the beginning, Lottie’s husband tells her that they’ve been invited to a party.

“Oh,” she says, squirming, “but there will be artists there. I never know what to say to artists.”

“Praise them!” he says, with the air of a man who knows what he’s talking about. “Just praise them!” he repeats. “You can’t go wrong!”

Ha! He’s right! Let’s admit it. Artists yearn to be praised; his advice is both funny and apt.

Yet the whole truth is not so flip. Praise is all well and good for anyone, but what artists need most, especially young artists, is to connect with someone who takes them seriously.

Do you know a young artist? A painter, a poet, a writer, a composer? Take them seriously; engage with them; ask them about the creative work they’re doing, just now.

How grateful I am to the handful of wonderful musicians who took me seriously, early on, by engaging with my music in ways that went far beyond performance. They inspired me, they asked me to write new works specially for them; they absorbed my music and made suggestions that rendered it more effective. They taught me so much; they raised me to levels I could not have reached by myself.

Among these musicians have been cellist Terry King, clarinetist Angelo Santoro, choral directors Chris Miller, Kevin Kelly and Gregg Smith. And mezzo-soprano Diane Haslam.

Diane once asked for songs she could sing with a flutist friend as well as a pianist. Her first name being the English derivation of Diana, Goddess of the Moon, I thought of setting Walter De La Mare's wonderful little poem about moonlight entitled, “Silver."

The flute itself is silver in color and it makes a silvery sound. In other poems by De La Mare, I found that the word “silver” frequently recurred. For Diane, I wrote a cycle of five short songs, setting five of his poems, all of which featured the word, “silver.”

Take a moment and read “Silver."

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog....
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

“Shoon” is quaint and sweetly affected but “moveless" stops my breath. Only a genius could conceive and position in precisely the right place a word so improbable yet so perfect.

Music can never be ‘moveless.’ It moves through time, sometimes moves us emotionally. Still I did my best to write a “moveless” song. See what you think …

How beautifully Diane Haslam sang my Silvery Songs. I regret we never recorded her renditions. To hear another mezzo friend, Susan Olson, singing “Silver" from Silvery Songs, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

Rick Sowash
Cincinnati, OH
March 12, 2017

🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶 🎶

Once, I wrote a perfect song. It’s titled “Silver.”

I wrote it in 1999 for my English mezzo friend, Diane Haslam. It’s one of 28 songs I wrote for her.

It sets to music a poem of the same title by Walter de la Mare. Because the flute itself is silver-colored and makes a silvery sound I scored the song for mezzo, flute and piano.

The word “silver” apparently held a special significance for de la Mare. I found four other poems by him in which he employed the word and I set those to music as well, making a cycle of five short songs, which I titled “Silvery Songs.”

Take a moment and put yourself under the spell of this poem, “Silver." The first word of the poem indicates the tempo at which it is best read or sung ...

Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog.
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Some curious words there. “Shoon” is sweetly old-fashioned as are “casements” and “thatch.” Their quaintness is touching, but “moveless" stops my breath. An improbable word, never seen it anywhere else that I know of. It is perfect. As if by magic, the word escorts me into the silent, moonlit stream and leaves me hovering there, alongside the fish, moveless, silver and pure.

Music is never ‘moveless.’ It moves through time, its melodies rising and falling and we are moved emotionally. Still, I did my best to write a “moveless” song. It may be untoward to say so but when I listen to this song now, it really does seem to me to be perfect. I wonder if Walter de la Mare would agree.

See what you think as you listen … and remember to watch for the full moon tonight!

How beautifully Diane sang my Silvery Songs. I regret we did not record her rendition. To hear another fine mezzo friend, Susan Olson, along with pianist Dianne Frazer and flutist Jaime Titus, performing “Silver" from Silvery Songs, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.