To start with, a few more words about the performers. Three soloists (as mentioned before, two sopranos and a countertenor) will be accompanied by strings (obviously, since it’s AUKSO and auksodrone); a quintet of 6, 6, 4, 4, 2. Just in case, let me explain: it means a string orchestra, classically formed by first and second violins, violas, cellos and double basses, with the number of players being, respectively, 6, 6, and so on. It is, in my opinion and experience, a perfect balance of vocalists and instrumentalists. With these numbers, on the one hand, the tutti manages to sound quite powerful without drowning out the soloists (although sometimes it happens; one has to be careful); and on the other hand, there are multiple options for divisi into subgroups with a well-balanced polyphony. Starting from a division into halves, all the way into 22 solo lines. But that’s just the logistics; more importantly, strings are the most versatile and flexible homogenous group of traditional instruments. Their range in terms of the timbre, articulation and dynamics is virtually limitless. They can sound like a monolith; they can “flicker” in multiple colours; they can keep playing one sound forever and with unchanging intensity; they can be barely audible or, as I said earlier, quite powerful. Their intonation possibilities are extraordinarily rich and relatively easy to achieve; there are endless ways of producing the sound of a determined, indetermined or partly determined pitch. Yet what fuels my imagination to the greatest extent is the intimate relationship between the player and the sound they produce. The player shapes the sound directly through the contact between their skin, the string and the bow’s wooden handle. The sound emerges literally at the fingertips. The technology – unchanged for half a millennium – serves, actually, the sole purpose of intensifying the volume; the pitch, timbre and absolute intensity are most closely intertwined with physiology. Only human voice outdoes the strings in this respect, but its capacity for span and movement is much smaller. Such a comparison, clearly, only partly makes sense, but it is not completely without merit, since in the past, the role of musical instruments was first to support, and then, to replace the human voice. The only thing I sometimes regret is that strings are unable to strike a note with certain violence. For the sound to come to existence, there must basically be friction, which generates vibration, which, in turn, gains volume through resonance. Without friction, the string’s sound is weak – merely striking the strings has little effect, so a sharp marking of the onset of a sound is always a compromise between the force and the time it takes for the sound to fully materialise. Therefore, the string ensemble will be complemented by a grand piano – naturally, not only for the sake of its “violent strike”, but also its whole unique spectrum of possibilities. Additionally, there will be two more instruments of particular importance to me.

I have been sure about the first one since I started thinking of the SIREN. It is going to be the saxophone, in a variety of types – most probably, nearly all of them, but I am not entirely sure which exact ones I will use. For sure, a soprano and a tenor; probably also an alto and one of the lowest ones. I owe my closer familiarity with the saxophone to Bartek Duś, who invited me to work with him some time ago. We created “The Heavens in Niedabyl” with a chamber orchestra and last year’s “Colus” with a string orchestra. Both available on YouTube in case someone is interested:

Niebo w Niedabylu (2015)
Colus (2019)
 

Bartek is a remarkable figure and, to my delight, he’ll most probably also be performing at the SIREN’s premiere. However, I’m going to dedicate a separate post to the performers. As for the saxophone, it’s a unique and relatively new instrument: it’s one of the latest inventions in the history of western instrumentation, and one of the few that have stood the test of time by coming into general use. From the very beginning, it was intended to be a symbol of innovation: in the 20th century, it slotted into this role to the fullest possible extent, by becoming a cultural icon. I highly recommend the book “The Saxophone” by Stephen Cotrell, especially the last two chapters concerning this topic. This symbolism relevant here. The Siren urges those who hear her call to explore the unknown, to cross boundaries, both internal and external. Be bold. The saxophone is boldness itself. It crosses the boundaries of genre and classification. It can be vulgar, yet it can also be as lyrical as the highly respected older instruments. It can form part of an ensemble but somehow does not fit in with the orchestra – it stands out in terms of both the appearance and sound. It shines somewhat too bright. It is capable of leading a solo line but it also has a huge potential for harmony: among the wind instruments, it seems to have the richest and, at the same time, the most controllable polyphonic playability. For further reading on these aspects in particular, I can recommend Marcus Weiss and Giorgio Netti’s book, “The Techniques of Saxophone Playing”, whose especially useful extended edition is available on its editor’s website:

https://www.baerenreiter.com/materialien/weiss_netti/saxophon/
 

The saxophone is slightly rebellious; somewhat immature but already strong. Arrogant. This is how I see it.

I hesitated a lot before finally choosing the second instrument. I didn't want to give up what I felt was a very good proportion: a string-piano base and a soloist saxophone of various types, corresponding with human voice yet forming an interesting alternative to a choir thanks to its polyphony, both simultaneous and consecutive, so to speak. But I still felt something was missing. It took me long to realize what it was, but I finally understood it was all about the second rebellious child of the 20th century culture – and for me personally, the unrequited love story of my youth – the guitar. The guitar was where I started; first, I was in love with its wanderers-by-the-bonfire charm; then by its rock’n’roll swagger, especially in the hands of Jimi Hendrix; and at last, in a way less intense yet more consistent, I took up classical guitar. My love for it was unrequited, as I never actually felt an absolute connection to that instrument, or a sense of control over it, of being able to use it as a medium of self-expression. Of making it sound as I’d like it to, as I know it could – instead of its sound being a mere compromise between my expectations and the limitations of my hands and memory. I never felt completely comfortable about it or competent in it. I was perhaps at my best when playing at a restaurant in Gliwice for a year with my friend, a flautist. And maybe also when I was in a makeshift band with my wife and a group of exceptionally lively teenagers; my role there was to recreate the guitar accompaniment in songs of multiple genres, from pop-rock to hip-hop. That time strengthened my belief that one is capable of fulfilling the need for authentic musical expression through any musical genre at all, and any hierarchy in this respect is merely arbitrary. The late Sir Roger Scruton was profoundly wrong on this subject, in my view.

Back to the guitar: its symbolism is to a certain extent convergent with that of the saxophone. Its character has a lot in common with the strings, as well. Apart from the strings being the source of sound, I also mean the far-reaching physiological and acoustic intimacy to an extent even greater in the case of the right hand, which is in touch with the strings without the bow as a medium; although to a lesser extent in the left hand, as the intonation is regulated by the frets. The guitar is subtle and quiet; it can be best heard up close. The fullness and richness of its sound can only be appreciated when listened to carefully. They can easily be overlooked. Or destroyed, when the strings are hit too forcefully.

The guitar in the SIREN will be special, amplified, slightly resemblant of the jazz guitar yet with no improvisation, in principle. With the g string tuned as fis in order to attain the symmetry I want: two perfect fourths up and down, and a major third in between (e-a-d-fis-h-e).

So far, I cannot say a lot about part two. After a week, I am still reading the libretto. I have, however, made an important discovery and a subsequent modification. In one of the very initial versions of the libretto that I received from Szczepan, the first part ended with the Siren’s words: 

My waters are thickening and imprisoning ships, ice crushing their hulls.

Bears tread on the green-white crust with their soft paws. They can already smell your alien scent.

When imagining the whole form, I had the impression as if it did not fit here. That it is a kind of a new opening, or it contributes something new, suggests a tiny bit of a new plot, builds suspense in dissonance with the music calming down and the closed entirety of this part coming to an end. Therefore, I asked Szczepan to give up this fragment, which he accepted reluctantly. He claimed it was important and could, at most, be moved to the third part. I came to the conclusion that it was a good solution, and so it remained. However, now, as I got down to the second part, I realized that the theme of creations devouring one another, and especially animals devouring humans, is a kind of a mini-chorus throughout the whole lyrics. In the first part, there are bears, and in the second part, crocodiles – I will disclose more in due course. Moreover, it refers to a general truth concerning the world. One can only come to be at the expense of other being; a life is limited by the horizon of a need for another life. So it is on every level; such is the reality we live in. Absorption and processing are a principle in many dimensions: both the organic one, among organisms and cells, and the inorganic one, with molecular, planetary and intergalactic levels as well as the psychological and sociological ones. Therefore, reluctantly, as it is never easy, I got back to the first part and reorganized the ending to make room for the bears. After all, it was probably meant to be like this, as in the course of those amendments, the question of ‘what is best for the human being’ has finally taken shape. This question continues to be the definitive culmination of part one, as well as a very important part of the whole.

I’m sailing on. With moderate wind and waves, slightly off the bow.

(transl. Zuzanna Wnuk)