David T. Little SOLDIER SONGS innova 852 Prelude Part One: Child I. Real American Heroes (Age 6-12) II. Boom! Bang! Dead! (Rated 'T' for Teen) (Age 13-17) III. Counting The Days (for Gene Little) (Age 18-21) Part Two: Warrior IV. Still Life with Tank and iPod (Age 22-24) V. Old Friends with Large Weapons (for Michael Lear) (Age 25-27) VI. Hollywood Ending (for Justen Bennett) (Age 28-29) VII. Steel Rain (Age 30-31) Part Three: Elder Introduction VIII. Hunting Emmanuel Goldstein (Age 32-42) IX. Every Town has a Wall (Age 43-52) X. Two Marines (Age 52-57) XI. War After War (Age 58-66) Coda: The Closed Mouth Speaks COMPOSERS NOTE I wrote "Soldier Songs" to try to figure things out. In 2004 I was invited by my former high school to speak with students about my life as a composer. Following my talk was my old friend, Justen Bennett, who was asked to talk about being a soldier. Justen had just returned from Iraq where, among other things, he had been a field medic, and had been among those who stormed Saddam Hussein's palace. I felt a little silly. Exiting the auditorium I saw a display case, which I remembered as having been used to celebrate student achievements: a victory for the football team, or the marching band, or photos from the musical that had happened the previous week. Now it was full of photos of alumni currently serving in Iraq and Afghanistan, driving tanks and carrying machine guns. Here, in the same case where the prom pictures used to go. I remembered back to my days with them in class arguing about the ethics of Vietnam, or even Operation Desert Storm. I remembered my attitude at the time: that war was always wrong, and that those who signed up to fight it were always fools. And yet, here were my friendsâ smart kids all, now in the desert defusing land mines. I then thought of my own family. Although we are not an intensely military family today, my generation is the first in nearly a century to not have a member in the service. My uncles were in Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos, and my grandfathers were in World War II, in Europe. Cracks began to form in my absolutist position, and questions began to arise. To find my own answers, I called everyone I knew and asked them to speak with me about their experience. Everyone I asked said yes. It was from their stories that this piece began to emerge. What struck me most was that for almost all of them, this was the first time they had ever talked about their experience, even though for some they'd left active duty nearly 40 years ago. This became central to the pieceâ what, for me, this piece is about: the impossibility of the telling. I never meant for this piece to prove a point, or even to have any kind of message to deliver. Rather, it is material presented for contemplation. I have selected and edited these interviews more as a way of sharing than as a way of convincing.  By conducting these interviews, and writing this piece, I gained an awareness of the complexity and difficulty of the soldier's situation, and gained empathy and compassion for the men and women who have experienced the one-way door of combat; where once you pass through, you may never fully come back. -- David T. Little, November 2012 DIRECTORS NOTE Music is a weapon of war. Rhythm organizes a soldier's training; song defines an army's morale and camaraderie; Metallica can prepare a soldier for battle. After the war, commemoration never happens without a band. Music is easily co-opted and made to serve a political or ideological message. But music is just as easily a vehicle for reflection, engagement, and emotional connection, and this is certainly what is achieved in Soldier Songs. I've worked closely with David on the realization of this piece's final form, first in workshop format with New York City Opera as part of its VOX Showcase for new opera, then in its first fully realized staging. In conceptualizing the work's theatrical life, David's work made me recall Walter Benjamin's essay, The Storyteller: Was it not noticeable at the end of [World War I] that men returned from the battlefield grown silentâ not richer, but poorer in communicable experience? A generation that had gone to school on a horse-drawn streetcar now stood under the open sky in a countryside in which nothing remained unchanged but the clouds, and beneath these clouds, in a field of force of destructive torrents and explosions, was the tiny, fragile human body. David's piece depicts that solitude of a soldier's experience: one isolated baritone stands alone in this piece and reflects a single vulnerability that speaks for generations. But more powerfully, Soldier Songs deals with the crisis of communicable experience: the soldiers who return from war unable to bear witness to their chaotic memories. The libretto of Soldier Songs comes directly from interviews David did with family and friends who served in various combats throughout the last fifty years, soldiers with the courage to tell their story. Connecting their various experiences, from childhood fascination with war to the nightmares that haunt the return to civilization, David writes an insistent closed-mouth hum: as if the soldier were a ticking time-bomb, the stories of his experience buried just under the surface and yearning, but unable, to emerge. But storytelling is a communication and relies on a receptive audience. What can we, the lucky ones who do not have to experience war first-hand, expect to understand of a soldier's experience? You 'can't know what it was like' is a common refrain of anyone trying to communicate a traumatic experience to one who wasn't there. David grapples with the impossibility of representation perhaps most powerfully in the sound collage that makes up Steel Rain, the chaos and fury of combat is presented as an eerily quiet soundscape, the voice not only song-less but recorded and distant. The impossibility of representation became a crucial aspect of this production: the Soldier is largely obscured by a tent in Part II, re-emerging blood-soaked and terror-stricken, but without us having seen what he has experiencedâ at most, we see his shadow on the sides of the tent. Someone we knew from childhood goes off to war and disappears, suffering traumas we can't expect to comprehend easily, and then returns to us, irrevocably changed. But here is where opera, or perhaps better, music-theater, offers a powerful platform to grapple with these problems: if simple words all too painfully lack the resonance of experience, music transforms them into a spatial phenomenon. If popular media's images of combat, promising a you-are-there experience, only leave the spectator numb, a theatrical visual language can activate your imagination and curiosity. An unresolved counterpoint of the musical and the visual, that essence of a music-theater event, offers us a chance to transcend the limits of our knowledge, making Soldier Songs not just about the soldier's experience but our own as spectatorsâ a fortunate role but one still laden with responsibility. Yuval Sharon, September 2012 LIBRETTO Part One: Child I. Real American Heroes (Age 6-12) I wanna be a "Real American Hero." I wanna be just like my toy soldiers. Killing all the bad guys with the funny names. I'm gonna grow up and be a toy soldier. Big bad machine guns makin' big bad noise. Killing all the bad guys with the funny names. Good guys, bad guys, Get to choose, who will die. II. Boom! Bang! Dead! (Rated "T" for Teen) (Age 13-17) Boom! Bang! Dead! I shot you motherfucker! Boom! Bang! Dead! I shot you in the head! I shot you in the face, So your mother will not recognize you. Put a gun in to your mouth and Blew your brains out the back of your head. Good guy, bad guy, Get to choose who will die If I get shot, I'll just start over. If I get shot, it doesn't really hurt any. If I get shot, I'll play the game again. Boom! Bang! Dead! I shot that evil-doer... Boom! Bang! Dead! ..and earned ten thousand points. Boom! Bang! Dead! Boom! Bang! Dead! Boom! Bang! Dead! Boom! Bang! Dead! III. Counting the Days (Age 18-21) I turned eighteen the other day. I had to sign a paper, That should my country ask me to, I'd go and fight and maybe die. I signed a paper yesterday, That 'til I'm twenty-six years old, I could belong to the government, If they call me. Now that I'm in, I count the days again. But differently, down from the top, Hoping that I make it to one. Part Two: Warrior IV. Still Life with Tank and iPod (Age 22-24) When I enter combat, in my Abrams Tank, I like to bring my iPod to keep me entertained. When I enter combat, in my Abrams Tank, I listen to Metallica to keep me in a rage. It cooks my blood and makes me feel, Like I can conquer anything. It brings me back to when I was a boy... A week ago, I was in Jersey…. Push the button, aim on-screen, Shoot the moving Pixels. (Kill 'em all.) Shoot the moving Pixels. (Not a man.) When I enter combat, in my Abrams Tank, I like to bring my iPod to keep me entertained. Kill 'em all. Not a man. Kill 'em all. Not a man. V. Old Friends with Large Weapons (Age 25-27) Old friends, High school friends, In fatigues, Marching. Marching in, Mile rows, behind Giant flags, Waving. Old friends With large weapons, Marching in Mile rows Death machines on their shoulders, These soldiers, Black metal, Heavy black machines. Flat black metal, Death metal, On their backs, My friends. My dear old friends With large weapons. VI. Hollywood Ending (Age 28-29) Outside our base, Car bombed, blasted. Thirty-five dead or wounded, Moaning. A ghastly movie scene, Without the action hero. Just smoke, and blood From the bodies blown to pieces. Outside our base, Car bomb blasted, Crater making shells, Inside a nice new Mercedes. I ran out. Grabbed my gun. What can I do, To help the bleeding, the dying? When I saw the carnage there, I was held with grief, And shock and awe. Bodies writhing With missing parts Blood-soaked ground. Smoke-filled air. I didn't know what to do. These people are dying right here at my feet. I feel as if there is just nothing to do. This is not what I wanted. Never what I imagined. Someone yell "cut!" Someone yell "cut!" This has all gone terribly wrong, Some one yell "cut!" This movie's out of control. This movie's out of control, Where's the director? Someone yell "cut!" This whole thing has got to stop. Someone yell "cut!" This has all gone terribly wrong, Some one yell "cut!" This movie's out of control. This movie's out of control, Where's the director? Someone yell "cut!" I don’t know what to do. Someone yell "cut!" This has all gone terribly wrong, Some one yell "cut!" This movie's out of control. This movie's out of control, Where's the director? Someone yell "cut!" This whole mess has got to end, and now. VII. Steel Rain (Age 30-31) In the military we call incoming ordnance Steel Rain. "The first thing you feel is non-belief. This can't be what I am hearing. You break out in gooseflesh immediately, and without thinking, you start running. Technically, you are supposed to drop, face down, to the ground, in an effort to get below flying shrapnel. But when you hear that whistle, with a slight vibration beneath it, you can't help but try to run from it. You can feel your heartbeat in your head, and your breathing and footsteps become all you can hear. You run as fast as you can, waiting to hear that explosion, knowing that if you hear it, it means you are still alive. Because if it lands close enough to kill you, you wouldn't even hear it go off. When it does impact, you feel the percussion in your back and legs, and for a second you stop breathing. Your legs go numb and you begin to run faster, or maybe it just seems that way. When you reach safety, you immediately turn to watch, and look for others that might still be caught out there. Finally when the whistling stops, and the last explosion has rocked, and the sirens wail out the all clear, your heart returns to a normal cadence, and you return to work. Business as usual." In the military we call incoming ordnance "Steel Rain." And believe me, when it rains, it pours. Part Three: Elder VIII. Hunting Emmanuel Goldstein (Age 32-43) They say we've got to catch him, The man who can't be caught. They say that he's a threat, A danger to our liberty. They show him on TV, For the two-minute hate. We never see that all this hunting Is what keeps us down. IX. Every Town Has a Wall (Age 44-52) They say that good fences make good neighbors, I guess you could say the same thing about strong walls. In medieval days every town had a wall. A wall for keeping certain people out, And protecting those inside. A wall from which they dropped hot oil, Through things called "murder holes.” Now we use the wall, For listing the names Of the dead when they fall, Protecting the wall. X. Two Marines (Age 53-57) Two Marines Came to my house To tell me that My son... A Letter from The President, "Regretfully..." My son... I did not Answer the door. I knew the speech, Heard it before. "Bravely fought... In combat fell... For Liberty...” My son... I took my grief Out to the yard, and While they knocked, I doused their car With gasoline. I lit a match, Set it ablaze. My grief to see… Set it ablaze, To see my grief As burning flames. Take this to The President, and Tell him that His letter can't… Not even signed By human hand. Not even written By a person. This letter won't, Nor uniforms, Not folded flags, Nor victories won… Your practiced words, From scripts well learned, Cannot bring back… Cannot bring back… Cannot bring back my son. Bring me back my son. XI. War After War (Age 58-66) King fighting king Defending a queen Using the bishops to Rally the pawns. When will the king Fight his own fight? King fighting king Defending a queen Using the bishops to Rally the pawns. Rally the pawns and Send them to die. When will the king Fight his own fight? King fighting king Defending a queen Using the bishops to Rally the pawns. When will the king Fight his own fight? I wish I could tell you, that everything will be alright. =================== David Adam Moore baritone Newspeak * Caleb Burhans , violin, voice Mellissa Hughes, voice James Johnston, piano, toy piano, synthesizer, voice David T. Little, drums, junk metal, electronics, voice Eileen Mack, clarinet, bass clarinet, voice Brian Snow, cello, voice Peter Wise, vibraphone, percussion, voice with special guests: Kelli Kathman, piccolo, flute, alto flute, voice Todd Reynolds, conductor, voice (Newspeak guitarist Taylor Levine does not appear on this recording.) This work is based on and features interviews with the following veterans: Justen Bennett (US Army) Amber Ferenz (US Army) Richard Girardin (US Marine Corps) Gene Little (US Army) Joseph W. Little (US Army) Eugene F. Woznicki (US Air Force) This recording is dedicated to them. For a full transcription of the interviews found in this work, please visit: www.soldiersongs.net Soldier Songs was commissioned by the Pittsburgh New Music Ensemble, who premiered the original version of the work in 2006, conducted by Brett Mitchell and directed by Kevin Noe. The version of the work presented on this recording was completed for the Beth Morrison Projects Production, and premiered at the International Festival of Arts and Ideas in New Haven in the summer of 2011, conducted by Todd Reynolds and directed by Yuval Sharon. Produced by Lawson White Edited, Mixed and Mastered by Lawson White Instrumental tracks were recorded at Avatar Studios, NYC, Todd Whitelock, engineer. Vocal tracks were recorded at Flux Studios, NYC, Lawson White, engineer. Design by David Stith Photography by Jill Steinberg Guitar samples recorded and performed by Andrew McKenna Lee
Innova Director: Philip Blackburn Operations Manager: Chris Campbell Publicist: Steve McPherson Innova is supported by an endowment from the McKnight Foundation. Production Credits: Produced by Beth Morrison Projects Directed by Yuval Sharon Lighting Design by Lucas Krech Animation Design by Corey Michael Smithson Scenic & Costume Design by Chisato Uno Support for this recording was provided in part by: The Puffin Foundation New Music USA Composers Assistance Program Recording Fund Special Thanks Beth Morrison, Kevin Noe, Brett Mitchell, Todd Reynolds, Eileen Mack, Justen Bennett, Amber Ferenz, Richard Girardin, Gene Little, Joseph W. Little, Eugene Woznicki, Joseph T. Little, Joanne Woznicki, James F. Flynn, Utah Philips, David Adam Moore, Caleb Burhans, James Johnston, Mellissa Hughes, Kelli Kathman, Brian Snow, Peter Wise, Mary Lou Aleski, Cathy Edwards, Corey Michael Smithson, Chisato Uno, Lucas Krech, Yuval Sharon, Garth MacAleavey, Missy Mazzoli, Jeffrey Edelstein, Paul Lansky, Rinde Eckert, Steven Mackey, William Bolcom, Royce Vavrek, William V. Madison, OPERA America, American Opera Projects, Andrew Tholl, New York City Opera, James Bobick, Timothy Jones, Christopher Burchett www.davidtlittle.com www.davidadammoore.com www.newspeakusic.org www.toddreynolds.com www.innova.mu © 2013, David T. Little (BMI). All rights reserved