This was intended to be a shortish work
that would make less demands for resources and choir size than my works
for double choir and so be easier for a moderate-sized amateur choir to
put on - but then the Composer goes and makes up for that by asking for
a second set of timpani! What shall we do with him?! Well, in order to
make this work as easy as possible for an amateur choir to programme, I
have produced a part for piano which can be used in place of that for
the second timpani set. It isn't quite so effective, but it does work.
The two sets of timpani, or the timpani and piano, are meant to be
antiphonally placed.
I had strongly in my mind the imposing image of the mountain Ama Dablam towering over the little Nepalese village of Tengpoche and its rather well known gompa (Buddhist monastery) along the main route for trekkers and mountaineers to Everest Base Camp; indeed, Lhotse and the top of Everest can be seen from Tengpoche, further up the valley. The shape of Ama Dablam from this viewpoint is rather like a skyward-pointing very squat thumb and forefinger.
The 'words' for the choir are just the
sacred mantra syllables om - ah - hung
-- the latter syllable elsewhere often being spelled hum,
but in this case I want to keep to the usual Tibetan pronunciation.
These syllables carry a multitude of esoteric sacred meanings that have
been imparted upon them through many centuries of use, but the essence
is that of enlightenment, the meaning of the three syllables
corresponding to some extent with the concept of the Trinity in
Christianity, but with a more mystical and, one might say more
rarefied, less personal emphasis. Although the mantra is much used in
Buddhism, it belongs to all humanity, the cosmos, and is not the
exclusive property of any one religion or spiritual path. By repeating
this mantra, anyone can help open their mind to the divine source in
whatever faith or spiritual path they already follow, without
committing themselves to any contradictory belief system.
Although the mantra syllables are chanted continually, I feel that this work is not in itself a devotional one but rather a work of broader vision which includes a portrayal of a particular type of devotion as part of a landscape. I use no specific traditional chants, at least relating to anything in recorded human history, but the choir's lines nonetheless have the feeling of being based in various ancient sorts of chant. The hypnotic incantatory section which begins at figure H in the score (5'34" in my CD recording of the work) has about it a mysterious and intriguing sense of immense antiquity, as though coming from another world entirely.
With the low sun the mountains cast deep shadows in the valleys, and of course often broken clouds may cast shadows on the mountain itself and punctuate and in many ways accentuate the glory of the sunrise. And so we have it in the music, with moments of sublime radiance, mysterious shadows and rugged severity. The form of the work has been arrived at intuitively and cannot be ascribed to any Earthly traditional form. By working intuitively like that I was actually following guidance from a higher source and so maximizing the work's effectiveness.