Recording: Texas Christian University Wind Symphony | Bobby R. Francis, Conductor
The word "Nocturne" means "of the night"; as a title, the word has been used for centuries by western art music composers. Despite this simple premise—or, perhaps, because of it—each individual brings a different and unique interpretation to what "night music" means and what it may evoke; and so, I have done the same. My Nocturne is set in three movements that semi-programmatically depict 1.) the setting of the sun at dusk, 2.) the "happenings" of the night, and 3.) the rising of the sun at dawn. Beneath this surface, the core of the work is an exploration of my experiences with Major Depressive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety.
Song for the Setting Sun is a gentle, twinkling haiku (figuratively and literally—it is divided in three sections that utilizes phrases of 5 beats, 7 beats, and 5 beats, respectively). It goes as a sunset does, beginning gently and descending into a brilliant canopy of color and light before allowing the night sky to take over. It is a nostalgic nod to my childhood, in the days before I began struggling with mental illness at 12-13 years old. The questions that would come to fill my mind in the following years were extraordinarily heavy ones, and while I'm grateful to have grown and learned, I do still miss the days in which I was, put simply, less aware. Those days weighed much lighter on my mind.
Dancing Behind Closed Doors is a mercurial chronicle of life in the night. I am a night owl and have always been used to spending hours alone in the night since my young teens. This solitude has been both a time of freedom and solace for me and a time of great vulnerability. It is in these hours of night, alone, that I would let my walls down and face myself and my mental struggles head on. This unintentionally-habitual practice of self-exploration has been a crucial part of my journey to recognize what is my illnesses and what is me. This music accesses a decade of self-reflection, curiosity, confusion, anxiety, depression, and all else that I have felt as a kid; and it acknowledges the years of time I spent "in the dark" about the source of my struggles.
Light's Return is an anthem of hope. It begins in darkness and follows the sun's slow rise upward into the sky, bringing light and day with it. While my conditions have impacted my life since my early teens, it was only in my early 20's that I received formal diagnoses and began finding the road to recovery. As I've begun to understand my conditions (through work with my therapist and treatment by my psychiatrist, two concrete resources that I am privileged to have), I've become skilled enough to recognize their patterns and effects clearly: they make me feel as if I am trapped in darkness, unable to find the light I need to make my way forward. And, by extension, I've learned to recognize similar patterns in those I love who also struggle with mental illnesses. As I have supported myself and my loved ones, I have learned how crucial it is to remind myself—no matter how in-the-dark I feel—that I will come out the other side of it. I have found how powerful it is to, at the most personal level, have hope for myself.
Nocturne is dedicated to the people I love who deal with mental illness and to anyone out in the world we share who deal with it. I know very little at my young age, but no matter how dark it is in this moment, I know this: the sun will rise.