When I composed this work I had briefly come under the spell of Tibetan Buddhism, because reading a particular book about that had caused me to actually cross the threshold of enlightenment while I was composing the final movement of the 6th Symphony. I therefore had a completely new outlook on the nature of myself and of reality, and now I was open to a completely new direction in my composing. So I composed this work, which at the time I persuaded myself was a sort of elaborated devotional work which I called Supplication of Compassion. However, the sense of the work taking the listener on a journey which included powerfully dramatic elements was really inconsistent with my notion of it being a devotional or indeed Buddhist work, and really to call the work a supplication just didn't add up. After some soul searching in 2004 with regard to the true nature of my apparently religion-related works, I decided to rename this work to acknowledge its true nature.
The 7th Symphony marks a departure from my previous approach to symphonic structuring, and branches out into a new and rewarding area of my output. Unlike my previous works, this uses the chanting of a mantra as its basis, and parts of it will inevitably draw comparison with relatively recent works of Arvo Pärt, although I composed the piece from first principles without any conscious emulation of other composers apart perhaps from early polyphonic church music - though it feels to me as though the work has come from a deep source in my consciousness that is much more ancient still, and indeed as though it is a re-creation of a work that had previously been composed an unimaginably long time ago, perhaps not even on Earth.
The work is repetitive, with little rhythmic or tempo variation, no real animation and little play on dynamics apart from the two main climaxes. It is simply a multitudinous chanting of the sacred mantra variously known as the Six-Syllable Mantra, the Mani Mantra or the Mantra of Compassion -- om mani padme hum. In the score I use the pronunciation familiar in Tibetan Buddhism - om mani peme hung, where the e's in peme are both pronounced and 'u' in hung is the vowel sound of 'book' in Southern English.
This mantra is not the exclusive property of any one religion nor indeed any religion at all, and is a sacred icon of peace and compassion for all who are disposed to use it, of any faith or none. May this work be heard alike in churches, cathedrals, synagogues, mosques, gompas and sacred places of all religions, as well as anywhere else in the world at large, outside all religions!
This symphony's form and structuring set a precedent for other works of mine, including the succeeding three symphonies, in which canonic layering, often at more than one speed simultaneously, is used to build large blocks of sound, these latter then being used as much larger-scale building blocks which form each work's macro-structure.
The small orchestra is used minimally, the prime attention going to the choirs. It lacks violins, violas, the oboe family, trombones and tuba, though has a somewhat enlarged percussion section. Apart from a very few coloristic touches, the instruments themselves simply play chants of the mantra, sometimes doubling choir lines, sometimes independently. The two four-part choirs should be separated between left and right, the sections arranged in the outside-towards-middle order of soprano, alto, tenor, bass; this is to emphasize all antiphonal effects and keep individual chanting lines as clear and separate as possible.
The form of the work owes little to any particular Earthly tradition of which I am aware, except that it has the feel of a slowly revolving gigantic prayer wheel. Indeed, it has the feel of a prayer wheel composed of smaller prayer wheels which themselves are slowly revolving. The work is in two parts which play without a break, the second being a repeat of the first (like a second revolution of the prayer wheel) but developing a greater intensity and elaboration of vision.
Serene sparse strands of the chanting eventually build up in close canon to produce a rapturous vision. This leads to a brief but tremendous and even explosive climax. In the second revolution of the prayer wheel the corresponding climax is more extended and includes a climactic visionary idea from my 4th Symphony. The work ends with a return to its beginning, which cuts off inconsequentially, emphasizing that the cessation of the work is for convenience only.
The following excerpt shows the first passage in the work where canonic layering produces a wall of sound consisting of a shifting mix of thirds and major seconds (whole tones). The overall sound of the choir is full of clashes and yet has a haunting melodious and harmonious quality about it. The clashes, rather than making the music sound discordant, give an impression of a great intensity. This canonic layering is considerably elaborated in further sections as the work progresses.
