FROZEN TIME

N. BOULANGER: Heures ternes with Myra Huang, piano live at WQXR

Writing the other day, I noted that one of the most trying aspects of this extraordinary time of pandemic is not knowing when this period of sheltering in place will end. The not-knowing when we can resume outside life as a society and when it will be safe again to gather with loved ones can make this time feel as if it is suspended. It is easy to feel as if there no end in sight…simply because the unknown-ness of it all means that there is none to be seen right now.

The last performance I gave before the world ground to a halt was as part of WQXR’s celebrations of International Women’s Day on March 8. Hindsight being 20 / 20, it’s funny to note how prescient Nadia Boulanger’s song Heures ternes was that day. There are many different translations of the title: some translate it to mean Dull Hours, others interpret it as Idle Hours. I’ve even seen one which calls it Stagnant Hours. Whichever option you choose, I think you get the point. (A complete translation follows at the bottom of this post)

The song is a perfect depiction of many of us are experiencing this moment: Maeterlinck’s poetry describes the iciness of boredom, plans which have been stymied and unrealized, and how time seems frozen. Nadia Boulanger’s introduction is similarly stuck in place: the pianist’s right hand never leaves the F-octave. In fact, her left hand won’t leave that position on the keyboard for the majority of the song. The melody in her left hand also tries to go places, but also doesn’t manage to get very far for most of the introductory page of music.

Things come to a climax as Maeterlinck tells us he is waiting for the sun to shine again, to melt the ice and awaken him from this paralyzed state. As if he is waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel to appear. Boulanger’s rising musical lines in the voice, which each iteration of “moi, j’attends” (Me, I await) ascending higher and higher on the staff, reveals the desperate impatience of Maeterlinck’s text.

I have so much to be grateful for in the midst of this Covid-19 world, including a beautiful home in which to shelter in place and healthy loved ones. Yet like so many others, I still find myself fighting hard against the despair and worry of not knowing when I will be able to get back to work and make music again with beloved colleagues (in person).

Multiple times a day, I remind myself: while we may not be able to see it right now, there is another side to this. Like Nadia Boulanger’s song, I have to be fierce with that reminder in order to keep the despair and fear at bay.

We will emerge on the other side of this, and when we do, we will be singing our songs when that time comes.

Idle hours

Desires of bygone years file by,

So too, the musings of the old,

And dreams surrendered long ago;

And there go former days of hope!

What respite might we find today!

No stars remain to fly to now,

Just boredom ’neath a crust of ice

And linens blue under the moon.

And sobs suppressed, trapped in the throat!

See there the cold hearths of the ill,

And sheep at pasture eating snow;

My God, take pity on it all!

As for me, I’ll wait to awake.

I shall wait for slumber to pass.

I’ll await the warmth of the sun

On these hands now chilled by the moon.

Countless music freelancers’ livelihoods have been threatened as a result of performances which have been canceled during the COVID-19 crisis. Should you wish to help, there are many relief funds to which you can make a tax-deductible contribution to show your support, including the following:

AGMA Relief Fund | MusicCares Covid-19 Relief Fund | Early Music America Relief Fund | New Music Solidarity Fund | Artist Relief