How To Go On
Dale Trumbore
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Dear Dale,
Congratulations on your new album! What can you tell us about your collaboration with Choral Arts Initiative? I love this ensemble. I've been working with CAI for about four years now, since Brandon Elliott, CAI's director, reached out about commissioning what turned out to be my piece “I am Music”. Our collaboration has grown over the years, and I'm delighted to call Brandon and many of the singers friends as well as frequent collaborators. |
Dale Trumbore & Choral Arts Initiative |
Can you share with us a moment or two of the work that went on behind the scenes focused on CAI’s latest project, the release of their first album “How to Go On"?
Brandon, the CAI singers, our producer Rich Messenger, our recording engineer Paul Sobosky, and I recorded for three consecutive weekday evenings, August 1, 2 & 3, ending at midnight each day. On the last day of recording, just after we'd finished, many of the singers and I didn't want to leave the space, even though by then it was after midnight on a Wednesday. We knew when we left the entire recording process would be over, so we just stayed there talking and making excuses not to leave. Someone joked that it was like a high school graduation, where you've spent so much time working in a place, but then when you're finally done—and should be happy to leave that space—you stay as long as you can, delaying the inevitable.
What was your initial reaction to the poetry of Barbara Crooker, Amy Fleury, and Laura Foley before setting their words to your own music? What were the deciding factors in picking poetry by these three authors to set in music for your own work "How to Go On"?
I adore these writers, and in reading each of their work for the first time, I recognized that each poem could be an excellent fit for music. That quality isn't always easy to define, but in poems by these writers, it's a mix of inherent, almost effortless lyricism and inventive imagery.
I collected poems for this project for years; Amy's text for the final movement, "When at Last" came first. I'd worked with Barbara several times in the past, so I reached out to her to see if she had any poems that might work, and she sent over something like twenty poems! Laura Foley's book "Syringa" served as inspiration, too. I'm still working my way through setting practically the entire book to music.
I found a through-line in this poetry: it all addresses loss, and in much of the text, whether it's addressing the reader or listener directly or speaking in the first person, there's a sense of reassurance and of knowing, if not the answers, then the right questions to ask.
Where do you find the energy and motivation to keep going forward "However Difficult" the road ahead may seem?
Laura Foley's text for the second track on the album, "However Difficult" is in itself an inspiration. "However difficult you think it may be," she writes, "it is yours, this life, / even the failures are yours, / even the garden, though it be unkempt, / is yours."
That track has practically become an anthem in my life over the course of making the album. I find myself consciously or unconsciously coming back to Laura's poem when things start going wrong. "Even the failures are yours" becomes "Even the [second cold this month / sick cat / broken hard drive / overdue deadlines] are yours." I try to rest when I need to take a break—sometimes I'm good at this, more often not—and then keep going. Either way, Laura's poem helps.
Brandon, the CAI singers, our producer Rich Messenger, our recording engineer Paul Sobosky, and I recorded for three consecutive weekday evenings, August 1, 2 & 3, ending at midnight each day. On the last day of recording, just after we'd finished, many of the singers and I didn't want to leave the space, even though by then it was after midnight on a Wednesday. We knew when we left the entire recording process would be over, so we just stayed there talking and making excuses not to leave. Someone joked that it was like a high school graduation, where you've spent so much time working in a place, but then when you're finally done—and should be happy to leave that space—you stay as long as you can, delaying the inevitable.
What was your initial reaction to the poetry of Barbara Crooker, Amy Fleury, and Laura Foley before setting their words to your own music? What were the deciding factors in picking poetry by these three authors to set in music for your own work "How to Go On"?
I adore these writers, and in reading each of their work for the first time, I recognized that each poem could be an excellent fit for music. That quality isn't always easy to define, but in poems by these writers, it's a mix of inherent, almost effortless lyricism and inventive imagery.
I collected poems for this project for years; Amy's text for the final movement, "When at Last" came first. I'd worked with Barbara several times in the past, so I reached out to her to see if she had any poems that might work, and she sent over something like twenty poems! Laura Foley's book "Syringa" served as inspiration, too. I'm still working my way through setting practically the entire book to music.
I found a through-line in this poetry: it all addresses loss, and in much of the text, whether it's addressing the reader or listener directly or speaking in the first person, there's a sense of reassurance and of knowing, if not the answers, then the right questions to ask.
Where do you find the energy and motivation to keep going forward "However Difficult" the road ahead may seem?
Laura Foley's text for the second track on the album, "However Difficult" is in itself an inspiration. "However difficult you think it may be," she writes, "it is yours, this life, / even the failures are yours, / even the garden, though it be unkempt, / is yours."
That track has practically become an anthem in my life over the course of making the album. I find myself consciously or unconsciously coming back to Laura's poem when things start going wrong. "Even the failures are yours" becomes "Even the [second cold this month / sick cat / broken hard drive / overdue deadlines] are yours." I try to rest when I need to take a break—sometimes I'm good at this, more often not—and then keep going. Either way, Laura's poem helps.
What do you concentrate on in your artistic and private life especially "Knowing the End"?
The sixth track, "Knowing the End" is about recognizing your own mortality in the face of loss, and Barbara Crooker's single line of text ("How can we go on, knowing the end of the story?") weaves throughout “How to Go On” in that movement and another.
Lately I've been thinking about this question—how to go on, “knowing the end”—in two ways:
First, what do I want to accomplish over the course of my life? "How to Go On" was a "bucket list" composition, and the album was a dream project. Now that it's over, I've been wondering what long-term goals I'd like to focus on next.
And second: We do have a life ahead of us, hopefully, and to that end there are some things we don't have to rush. We can set goals for the future, sure, but we also need to enjoy what we have now. We can recognize that our time is limited but still create space for rest and renewal.
CAI’s debut album includes your other works, In the Middle, Lodestar, and After the Storm. What goes through your mind as you listen to the final product of CAI’s interpretation of your mesmerizing music?
In co-producing the album, I've listened to it at so many stages of production that it's almost as if I hear those previous incarnations when I'm listening to the final version, as if the album is overwritten with the entire process of writing, premiering, recording, and editing each track, along with everything that was happening in my personal life. When I listen, it's weirdly like I'm reliving any and every aspect of the entire process!
Do you worry about how CAI’s album will be received by listeners and critics or do you feel a sense of relief having this project available to a wide range of people?
So far, the reception has been great. Honestly, I can be really critical of my own work, and I don't know if any review could say anything bad about the album or my music in general that I haven't at one time already thought myself. That's not necessarily a positive thing, but that attitude does feel sometimes like a protective shield around my work, like: "I've already thought the worst of this and emerged unscathed, so whatever negative things you have to say can't harm me."
Above all, I'm relieved and happy that this project is finally done, and it sounds great. I'm glad people besides the singers and production team can hear it now, and I hope they find something in this music to love.
Before composing How to Go On, what was your playlist in which you found solace in times of distress or moments of pain?
I love Regina Spektor's song "Ghost of Corporate Future": "Maybe you should just drink a lot less coffee and never ever watch the 10 o'clock news." It's kind of a silly song, but there's some good advice in there for when you're feeling stressed out: "People are just people, they shouldn't make you nervous. The world is everlasting; it's coming and it's going."
On a very selfish level, I wrote "How to Go On" to serve a very specific kind of distress: those times when, usually in the middle of the night, you're faced with the gripping, desolate realization that someday you're going to die. There may be no solution for what causes that feeling, but I do think that music can help us move from that paralyzing moment back into our lives.
Why are music, poetry, and the arts in general, essential to the well being of individuals and communities?
On an individual level, the arts help with knowing and processing our emotions. At least for me, it's no exaggeration to say that music and writing (creating both, and taking them both in) contribute on a daily basis to my mental health and stability. I think the arts can reveal us to ourselves and help us know and understand others. They're vital.
No matter what budget cuts may come to the arts in the United States, artists will keep going. We might have to get more creative about how we fund and distribute our art, but the art itself cannot and will not be stopped.
Congratulations and Thank you!
The sixth track, "Knowing the End" is about recognizing your own mortality in the face of loss, and Barbara Crooker's single line of text ("How can we go on, knowing the end of the story?") weaves throughout “How to Go On” in that movement and another.
Lately I've been thinking about this question—how to go on, “knowing the end”—in two ways:
First, what do I want to accomplish over the course of my life? "How to Go On" was a "bucket list" composition, and the album was a dream project. Now that it's over, I've been wondering what long-term goals I'd like to focus on next.
And second: We do have a life ahead of us, hopefully, and to that end there are some things we don't have to rush. We can set goals for the future, sure, but we also need to enjoy what we have now. We can recognize that our time is limited but still create space for rest and renewal.
CAI’s debut album includes your other works, In the Middle, Lodestar, and After the Storm. What goes through your mind as you listen to the final product of CAI’s interpretation of your mesmerizing music?
In co-producing the album, I've listened to it at so many stages of production that it's almost as if I hear those previous incarnations when I'm listening to the final version, as if the album is overwritten with the entire process of writing, premiering, recording, and editing each track, along with everything that was happening in my personal life. When I listen, it's weirdly like I'm reliving any and every aspect of the entire process!
Do you worry about how CAI’s album will be received by listeners and critics or do you feel a sense of relief having this project available to a wide range of people?
So far, the reception has been great. Honestly, I can be really critical of my own work, and I don't know if any review could say anything bad about the album or my music in general that I haven't at one time already thought myself. That's not necessarily a positive thing, but that attitude does feel sometimes like a protective shield around my work, like: "I've already thought the worst of this and emerged unscathed, so whatever negative things you have to say can't harm me."
Above all, I'm relieved and happy that this project is finally done, and it sounds great. I'm glad people besides the singers and production team can hear it now, and I hope they find something in this music to love.
Before composing How to Go On, what was your playlist in which you found solace in times of distress or moments of pain?
I love Regina Spektor's song "Ghost of Corporate Future": "Maybe you should just drink a lot less coffee and never ever watch the 10 o'clock news." It's kind of a silly song, but there's some good advice in there for when you're feeling stressed out: "People are just people, they shouldn't make you nervous. The world is everlasting; it's coming and it's going."
On a very selfish level, I wrote "How to Go On" to serve a very specific kind of distress: those times when, usually in the middle of the night, you're faced with the gripping, desolate realization that someday you're going to die. There may be no solution for what causes that feeling, but I do think that music can help us move from that paralyzing moment back into our lives.
Why are music, poetry, and the arts in general, essential to the well being of individuals and communities?
On an individual level, the arts help with knowing and processing our emotions. At least for me, it's no exaggeration to say that music and writing (creating both, and taking them both in) contribute on a daily basis to my mental health and stability. I think the arts can reveal us to ourselves and help us know and understand others. They're vital.
No matter what budget cuts may come to the arts in the United States, artists will keep going. We might have to get more creative about how we fund and distribute our art, but the art itself cannot and will not be stopped.
Congratulations and Thank you!