Mother of Exiles
For Soprano, Flute, and Piano
2023 National Finalist for The American Prize in Vocal Chamber Music Composition
Recorded in March 2022 in Veronica Hagman Concert Hall at Western Connecticut State University.
Margaret Astrup - Soprano
Kerry Walker - Flute
Laurel Larsen - Piano
PROGRAM NOTES
Mother of Exiles explores the contradiction between the United States welcoming immigrants and the socioeconomic pressures which force some immigrants and their families to enlist in the armed forces to survive in our society, perpetuating the wars they fled.
Mother of Exiles examines this conflict between American ideals and reality by collaging two poems that articulate each side into a single libretto. Lazarus’ The New Colossus evokes the image of the Statue of Liberty as a metaphor for the US government’s historically welcoming policies toward immigrants and refugees. Cannan’s August 1914 presents a stark vignette of an unnamed soldier and the emotional impact of his death.
Contrasting dark and light harmonies, Mother of Exiles renders the disparity between truth and ideal in musical terms. Soprano and flute soloists trade melodies in dialog, stretching over long, elided chords in the piano. Somber, lyrical sections depict the unnamed soldier’s death, contrasting with bright, bold sections evoking Lady Liberty. The flute returns in the epilogue, leading Mother of Exiles to a solemn conclusion as the ensemble fades away.
12 minutes | Soprano, Flute, and Piano | 2021
Libretto by Martin Hebel.
Source texts by May Wedderburn Cannan and Emma Lazarus.
Language: English
Mother of Exiles is available in two versions:
Soprano, Flute, and Piano
Libretto
The sun rose over the sweep of the hill
All bare for the gathered hay,
And a blackbird sang by the window-sill,
And a girl knelt down to pray:
‘Whom Thou hast kept through the night, O Lord,
Keep Thou safe through the day.’
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty Mother of Exiles, a woman with a torch,
From whose beacon-hand glows welcome.
The sun rose over the shell-swept height,
The guns are over the way,
And a soldier turned from the toil of the night
To the toil of another day,
The sun sank slow,
And a bullet sang by the parapet
To drive in the new-turned clay.
Cries she with silent lips, “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
Send these, the homeless, the tempest-tost to me.”
The sun sank slow by the shell-swept height,
The guns had prepared a way,
And a soldier turned to sleep that night
Who would not wake for the day,
And a blackbird flew from the window-sill,
When a girl knelt down to pray.
Martin Hebel
Written 2021